Introductory & Contents

This is a collection of several non-Leninist Left Communist Marxist texts. All of the texts have been procured from Marxists Internet Archive. Credit them whenever you may cite this resource.

It includes some things by different authors:

Herman Gorter

Open Letter to Comrade Lenin

Why we need the Fourth Communist Workers’ International

Historical Materialism

Paul Mattick

What is Communism?

Workers’ Councils and Communist Organization of Economy

Sylvia Pankhurst

Communism and Its Tactics (both versions)

Anton Pannekoek

The Labor Movement and Socialism

The German Revolution—First Stage

Socialism and Anarchism

Trade Unionism

The Party and Class

State Capitalism and Dictatorship

Otto Rühle

The Revolution Is Not A Party Affair

Report from Moscow

Another excellent book which is helpful for understanding council communism specifically is Worker's Councils by Anton Pannekoek, available as a well-formatted EPUB from the Anarchist Library.

Other useful compilations I direct you to are:

Paul Mattick's anthology Anti-Bolshevik Communism

The Essential Pannekoek

This EPUB was formatted by Ian Schlom.

Open Letter to Comrade Lenin

Herman Gorter

First published: Open letter to comrade Lenin, A reply to “‘left-wing’ communism, an infantile disorder,” in Workers’ Dreadnought, London, 12 March-11 June 1921;
Published: Wildcat pamphlet, London, 1989;
Source: Left-Wing Communism Site;
Transcription\HTML Markup: by Andy Blunden, for marxists.org 2003; Micah Muer, 2019
Proofread: by Chris Clayton, 2006;

I wish to draw your attention, Comrade Lenin, and that of the reader, to the fact that this letter was written at the time of the triumphant march of the Russians to Warsaw.

I likewise request you, and the reader, to excuse the frequent repetitions. They were unavoidable, owing to the fact that the tactics of the “Lefts” are still unknown to the workers of most countries.

Herman Gorter.

Introduction

Dear Comrade Lenin,

I have read your brochure on the Radicalism in the Communist movement. It has taught me a great deal, as all your writings have done. For this I feel grateful to you, and doubtless many other comrades feel as I do. Many a trace, and many a germ of this infantile disease, to which without a doubt, I also am a victim, has been chased away by your brochure, or will yet be eradicated by it. Your observations about the confusion that revolution has caused in many brains, is quite right too. I know that. The revolution came so suddenly, and in a way so utterly different from what we expected. Your words will be an incentive to me, once again, and to an even greater extent than before, to base my judgement in all matters of tactics, also in the revolution, exclusively on reality, on the actual class-relations, as they manifest themselves politically and economically.

After having read your brochure I thought all this is right.

But after having considered for a long time whether I would cease to uphold this “Left Wing,” and to write articles for the KAPD and the Opposition party in England, I had to decline.

Basis Mistaken.

This seems contradictory. It is due, though, to the fact that the starting-point in the brochure is not right. To my idea you are mistaken in your judgement regarding the analogy of the West-European revolution with the Russian one, regarding the conditions of the West-European revolution, that is to say the class-relations, and this leads you to mistake the cause, from which this Left Wing, the opposition, originates.

Therefore the brochure SEEMS to be right, as long as your starting-point is assumed. If, however (as it should be), your starting point is rejected, the entire brochure is wrong. As all your mistaken, and partly mistaken, judgements converge in your condemnation of the Left movement, especially in Germany and England, and as I firmly intend to defend those of the Left Wing, although, as the leaders know, I do not agree with them on all points, I imagine I had best answer your brochure by a defence of the Left Wing. This will enable me not only to point out its origin (the cause from which it springs), and to prove its right, and merits, in the present stage, and here, in Western Europe, but also, which is of equal importance, to combat the mistaken conceptions that are prevalent in Russia with regard to the West-European Revolution.

Both these points are of importance, as it is on the conception of the West-European revolution that the West-European as well as the Russian tactics depend. I should have liked to do this at the Moscow Congress, which, however, I was not able to attend.

Two Arguments Refuted.

In the first place I must refute two of your arguments, that may mislead the judgment of comrades or readers. You scoff and sneer at the ridiculous and childish nonsense of the struggle in Germany, at the “dictatorship of the leaders or of the masses,” at “from above or below,” etc. We quite agree with you, that these should be no questions at all. But we do not agree with your scoffing. For that is the pity of it: in Western Europe they still are questions. In Western Europe we still have, in many countries, leaders of the type of the Second International; here we are still seeking the right leaders, those that do not try to dominate the masses, that do not betray them; and as long as we do not find these leaders, we want to do all things from below, and through the dictatorship of the masses themselves. If I have a mountain-guide, and he should lead me into the abyss, I prefer to do without him. As soon as we have found the right guides, we will stop this searching. Then mass and leader will be really one. This, and nothing else, is what the German and English Left Wing, what we ourselves, mean by these words.

And the same holds good for your second remark, that the leader should form one united whole with class and mass. We quite agree with you. But the question is to find and rear leaders that are really one with the masses. This can only be accomplished by the masses, the political parties and the Trade Unions, by means of the most severe struggle, also inwardly. And the same holds good for iron discipline, and strong centralisation. We want them all right, but not until we have the right leaders. This severest of all struggles, which is now being fought most strenuously in Germany and England, the two countries where Communism is nearest to its realisation, can only be harmed by your scoffing. Your attitude panders to the opportunist elements in the Third International. By this scoffing, you abet the opportunist elements in the Third International.

For it is one of the means by which elements in the Spartakus League and in the BSP, and also in the Communist Parties in many other countries, imposes upon the workers, when they say that the entire question of masses and leader is absurd, is “nonsense and childishness.” Through this phrase they avoid, and wish to avoid, all criticism of themselves, the leaders. It is by means of this phrase of an iron discipline and centralisation, that they crush the opposition. And this opportunism is abetted by you.

You should not do this, Comrade. We are only in the introductory stage yet, here in Western Europe. And in that stage it is better to encourage the fighters than the rulers.

I only touch on this quite perfunctorily here. In the course of this writing I will deal with this matter more at length. There is a deeper reason yet why I cannot agree with your brochure. It is the following

Difference Between Russia and W. Europe.

On reading your pamphlets, brochures and books, nearly all of which writings filled us with admiration and approbation, we Marxists of Western Europe invariably came to a point where we suddenly grew wary, and on the look-out for a more detailed explanation; and if we failed to find this explanation, we accepted the statement but grudgingly, with all due reservations. This was your statement regarding the workers and the poor peasants. It occurs often, very often. And you always mention both these categories as revolutionary factors all the world over. And nowhere, at least as far as I have read, is there a clear and outspoken recognition of the immense difference which prevails in the matter between Russia (and a few other countries in Eastern Europe) and Western Europe (that is to say Germany, France, England, Belgium, Holland, Switzerland, and the Scandinavian countries, and perhaps even Italy). And yet, in my opinion, the fundamental difference between your conception of the tactics concerning Trade Unionism and Parliamentarism, and that of the so-called Left Wing in Western Europe, lies mainly in this point.

Of course you know this difference as well as I do, only you failed to draw from it the conclusions for the tactics in Western Europe, at least as far as I am able to judge from your works. These conclusions you have not taken into consideration, and consequently your judgement on these West-European tactics is false.[1]

And this is all the more dangerous, because this phrase of yours is parroted automatically in all the Communist Parties of Western Europe, even by Marxists. To judge from all Communist papers, magazines and brochures, and from all public assemblies, one might even surmise that a revolt of the poor peasants in Western Europe might break out at any moment! Nowhere is the great difference with Russia pointed out, and thus the judgment, also of the proletariat, is led astray. Because in Russia you were able to triumph with the help of a large class of poor peasants, you represent things in such a way, as if we in Western Europe are also going to have that help. Because you, in Russia, have triumphed exclusively through this help, you wish to make us believe that here also we will triumph through this help. You do this by means of your silence with regard to this question, as it stands in Western Europe, and your entire tactics are based on this representation.

Poor Peasants Decisive Factor.

This representation, however, is not the truth. There is an enormous difference between Russia and Western Europe. In general the importance of the poor peasants as a revolutionary factor decreases from east to west. In some Parts of Asia, China, and India, in the event of a revolution, this class would be the absolutely decisive factor; in Russia it constitutes an indispensable and, indeed, one of the main factors; in Poland, and in a few states of South-Eastern and Central Europe, it is still of importance for the revolution, but further West its attitude grows ever more antagonistic towards the revolution.

Russia had an industrial proletariat of some seven or eight millions. The number of poor peasants, however, amounted to about 25 millions. (I beg you to excuse the inevitable numerical errors; I have to quote from memory, as this letter should be despatched with all speed). When Kerensky failed to give these poor peasants the soil, you knew that before long they would come to you, the minute they should become aware of the fact. This is not so in Western Europe, and will not become so either; in the countries of Western Europe, which I have named, conditions of that sort do not exist.

The poor peasant here lives under conditions quite different from those of Russia. Though often terrible, they are not as appalling as they were there. As farmers or owners, the poor peasants possess a piece of land. The excellent means of transport enables them often to sell their goods. At the very worst they can mostly provide their own food. During the last ten years things have improved somewhat for them. Now, during and since the war, they can obtain high prices. They are indispensable, the import of foodstuffs being very limited. Regularly, therefore, they will be able to get high prices. They are supported by Capitalism. Capitalism will maintain them, as long as it can maintain itself. In your country, the position of the poor peasants was far more terrible. With you, therefore, the poor peasants had a political, revolutionary programme, and were organised in a political, revolutionary party: with the social-revolutionaries. With us this is nowhere the case. Moreover, in Russia there was an enormous amount of landed property to be divided, large estates, crown lands, government land, and the estates held by the monasteries. But the Communists of Western Europe, what can they offer to the poor peasants, to win them to their side?

Nothing to Offer Peasants.

Germany counted, before the war, from four to five million poor peasants (up to two hectares). Only eight or nine millions, however, were employed in actual large-scale industries (over 100 hectares). If the Communists were to divide all of these, the poor peasants would still be poor peasants, as the seven or eight million field-labourers also claim their share. And they cannot even divide them, as they will use them as large-scale industries.[2]

These numbers show that in Western Europe there are comparatively few poor peasants; that, therefore, the auxiliary forces, if there were any at all, would be very few in numbers.

The Communists in Germany, therefore, except in relatively insignificant regions, do not even have the means to win over the poor peasants. For the medium and small industries will surely not be expropriated. And it is practically the same in the case of the four or five million poor peasants in France, and also for Switzerland, Belgium, Holland, and two of the Scandinavian countries.[3] Everywhere small and medium sized industry prevails. And even in Italy there is no absolute certainty; not to mention England, which counts only some one or two hundred thousand peasants.

Neither will they be attracted by the promise that under Communism they will be exempt from rent-paying and mortgage-rent. For with Communism they see the approach of civil war, the loss of markets, and general destruction.

Unless, therefore, there should come a crisis far more terrible than the present one in Germany, a crisis, indeed, far exceeding the horrors of any other crises that ever were before, the poor peasants in Western Europe will side with Capitalism, as long as it has any life left.[4]

Industrial Workers Stand Alone.

The workers in Western Europe stand all alone. Only a very slight portion of the lower middle class will help them. And these are economically insignificant. The workers will have to make the revolution all by themselves. Here is the great difference as compared to Russia.

Possibly you will say, Comrade Lenin, that this was the case in Russia. There also the proletariat has made the revolution all by itself. It is only after the revolution that the poor peasants joined. You are right, and yet the difference is immense.

You knew with absolute certainty that the peasants would come to you, and that they would come quickly. You knew that Kerensky would not, and could not give them the land. You knew that they would not help Kerensky long. You had a magic charm, “The Land to the Peasants,” by means of which you would win them in the course of a few months to the side of the proletariat. We, on the other hand, are certain that for some time to come the poor peasants, all over Western Europe, will side with Capitalism.

You will possibly say that, although in Germany there is no great mass of poor peasants whose assistance can be relied on, the millions of proletarians that side as yet with the bourgeoisie are sure to come round. That, therefore, the place of the poor peasants in Russia will here be taken by the proletarians, so that there is help all the same. This representation is also fundamentally wrong, and the immense difference remains.

The Russian peasants joined the proletariat AFTER Capitalism has been defeated; but when the German workers that are now as yet on the side of Capitalism join the ranks of the Communists, the struggle against Capitalism will begin in real earnest.

The revolution in Russia was terrible for the proletariat in the long years of its development and it is terrible now, after the victory. But at the actual time of revolution it was easy, and this was due to the peasants.

With us it is quite the contrary. In its development the revolution was easy, and it will be easy afterwards; but its actual coming will be terrible – more terrible, perhaps, than any other revolution ever was, for Capitalism, which in your country was weak and only slightly rooted as it were to feudalism, the middle ages and even barbarism, here in our country is strong and widely organised and deeply rooted, and the lower middle classes as well as the peasants, who always side with the strongest, with the exception of a shallow and economically unimportant layer, will stand with Capitalism until the very end.

The revolution in Russia was victorious with the help of the poor peasants. This should always be borne in mind here in Western Europe and all the world over. But the workers in Western Europe stand alone: this should never be forgotten in Russia.

The proletariat in Western Europe stands alone.

This is the absolute truth: and on this truth our tactics must be based. All tactics that are not based on this are false, and lead the proletariat to terrible defeat.

Practice also has proved that these assertions are true, for the poor peasants in Western Europe have not only no programme and failed to claim the land, but they do not even stir now that Communism is approaching. As I have observed before, this statement is not to be taken absolutely literally. There are regions in Western Europe where, as we have mentioned before, landed property on a large scale is predominant, and where the peasants are therefore in favour of Communism. There are yet other regions where the local conditions are such that the poor peasants may be won for Communism. But these regions are comparatively small. Neither do I wish to imply that quite at the close of the revolution, when all things are coming down, there will be no poor peasants coming to our side. They undoubtedly will. That is why we must carry on an unceasing propaganda amongst them. Our tactics, however, must be adopted for the beginning and for the course of the revolution. What I mean is the general trend, the general tendency of conditions. And it is on these alone that our tactics must be based.[5]

From this there follows in the first place – and it should be clearly, emphatically and plainly stated – that in Western Europe the real revolution, that is to say the overthrow of Capitalism, and the erection and permanent institution of Communism, for the time being is possible only in those countries where the proletariat BY ITSELF is strong enough against all the other classes – in Germany, England, and Italy, where the help of the poor peasants is not possible. In the other countries the revolution can only be prepared as yet by means of propaganda, organisation and fighting. The revolution itself can only follow when the economic conditions will be thus much shaken through the revolution in the big States (Russia, Germany, and England), that the bourgeois class will have grown sufficiently weak. For you will agree with me that we cannot base our tactics on events that may come, but that may also never happen (help from the Russian armies, risings in India, terrible crises, etc., etc.).

That you should have failed to recognise this truth concerning the importance of the poor peasants, Comrade, is your first great mistake, and likewise that of the Executive in Moscow and of the International Congress.

What does it mean with regard to tactics, this fact that the proletariat of Western Europe stands all alone: that it has no prospect of any help whatsoever from any other class?

It means, in the first place, that the demands made on the masses are far greater here than in Russia – that, therefore, the proletarian mass is of far greater importance in the revolution. And in the second place that the importance of the leaders is proportionately smaller.

For the Russian masses, the proletarians, knew for certain, and already saw during the war, and in part before their very eyes, that the peasants would soon be on their side. The German proletarians, to take them first, know that they will be opposed by German Capitalism in its entirety, with all its classes.

It is true that already before the war the German proletarians numbered from nineteen to twenty million actual workers, of a population of seventy million, but they stood alone against all the other classes.[6] They are opposed by a Capitalism that is immeasurably stronger than that of Russia – and they are UNARMED. The Russians were armed.

From every German proletarian therefore, from every individual, the revolution demands a far greater courage and spirit of sacrifice than was necessary in Russia.

This is the outcome of the economic class relations in Germany, and not of some theory or idea risen from the brain of revolutionary romantics or intellectuals!

Unless the entire class or at least the great majority stand up for the revolution personally, with almost superhuman force, in opposition to all the other classes, the revolution will fail; for you will agree with me again that on determining our tactics we should reckon with our own forces, not with those from outside – on Russian help, for instance.

The proletariat almost unarmed, alone, without help, against a closely united Capitalism, means for Germany that every proletarian must be a conscious fighter, every proletarian a hero; and it is the same for all Western Europe.

For the majority of the proletariat to turn into conscious, steadfast fighters, into real Communists, they must be greater, immeasurably greater, here than in Russia, in an absolute as well as a relative sense. And once more: this is the outcome, not of the representations, the dreams of some intellectual, or poet, but of the purest realities.

And as the importance of the class grows, the importance of the leaders becomes relatively less. This does not mean that we must not have the very best of leaders. The best are not good enough; we are trying hard to find them. It only means that the importance of the leaders, as compared to that of the masses, is decreasing.

For you, who had to win a country of 160 million, with the help of seven or eight million, the importance of the leaders was certainly immense! To triumph over so many, with so few, is in the first place a matter of tactics. To do as you did, Comrade, to win such a huge land, with such small forces, but with assistance from outside, all depends in the first place on the tactics of the leader. When you, Comrade Lenin, started the struggle with a small gathering of proletarians, it was in the first place your tactics that in the crucial moments waged the battles and won the poor peasants.

But what about Germany? There the cleverest of tactics, the greatest clarity, even the genius of leaders, cannot attain much. There you have an inexorable class enmity, one against all the others. There the proletarian class must tip the scales for itself – through its power, its numbers. Its power, however, is based above all on its quality, the enemy being so mighty and so endlessly better organised and armed than the proletariat.

You opposed the Russian possessing classes, as David opposed Goliath. David was little, but he had a deadly weapon. The German, the English, the West-European proletariat oppose Capitalism as one giant does another. Between them all depends on strength – strength of body, and above all of mind.

Have you not observed, Comrade Lenin, that in Germany there are no great leaders? They are all quite ordinary men. This points to the fact that this revolution must in the first place be the work of the masses, not of the leaders.

To my idea this is something more wonderful and grand than has ever been, and it is an indication of what Communism will be.

And as it is in Germany, it is in all Western Europe, for everywhere the proletariat stands alone.

The revolution of the masses, of the workers – of the masses of workers alone, for the first time in the world.

And not because thus it is good, or beautiful, or conceived in someone’s brain, but because the economic and class relations will it.[7]

In other words, and to read the matter as clearly as possible: the relation between the West-European and the Russian revolution can be demonstrated by means of the following comparison:

Supposing that in an Asiatic country like China or British India, where only one half a per cent of the inhabitants are industrial proletarians, and 80 per cent small peasants, a revolution should break out, and should be successfully carried through by those small peasants under the lead of the politically and socially more trained proletarians that were united in local trade unions and co-operatives. If these Chinese or Indian workers proclaimed to them:

“We have won through our local trade unions and co-operatives, and now you must do the same with regard to your revolution,” what would the Russian workers have replied? They would have said:

“Dear friends, this is impossible. Our country is far more developed than yours. With us not half, but three per cent of the population are industrial proletarians. Our Capitalism is more powerful than yours, therefore we need better and more powerful organisations than you did.”

From this difference between Russia and Western Europe there follows likewise:

1. That when you, or the Executive in Moscow, or the opportunist Communists of Western Europe, of the Spartakus League, or of the English Communist Party, say: “It is nonsense to fight about the question of leader or masses,” that you in that case are wrong as regards us, not only because we are yet trying to find those leaders, but also because for you this question has quite another meaning.

2. That when you say to us: “Leader and mass must be one inseparable whole,” you are wrong, not only because we are striving for that unity, but also because that question has another meaning for you than for us.

3. That when you may: “In the Communist Party there should reign iron discipline, and absolute military centralisation,” this is wrong, not only because we are seeking iron discipline and strong centralisation, but also because this question has a different meaning for us and for you.

4. That when you say: “We acted in such and such a way in Russia (after the Kornilov offensive for instance, or some other episode), or entered Parliament during this or that period, or we remained in the trade unions, and therefore the German proletariat must do the same,” all this means absolutely nothing, and need not or cannot be applicable in any way. For the West-European class relations in the struggle, in the revolution, are quite different from those of Russia.

5. That when you wish to force upon us tactics that were good in Russia – tactics, for instance, that were based, consciously or unconsciously, on the conviction that here the poor peasants will soon join the proletariat – in other words, that the proletariat does not stand alone – that your tactics, which you prescribe, and which are followed here, will lead the West-European proletariat into ruin, and the most terrible defeat.

6. That when you, or the Executive in Moscow, or the opportunist elements in Western Europe, like the Central Board of the Spartakus League or the BSP, try to compel us to follow opportunist tactics (opportunism always seeks the support of outside elements, that forsake the proletariat), you are wrong.

The general bases on which the tactics in Western Europe must be founded are these: the recognition that the proletariat stands alone, that it is to expect no help, that the importance of the mass is greater, and that of the leaders relatively smaller.

This was not seen by Radek when he was in Germany, not by the Executive in Moscow, nor by you, as is evident from your words.

And it is on these bases that the tactics of the Kommunistische-Arbeiter Partei in Germany, the Communist Party of Sylvia Pankhurst,[8] and the majority of the Amsterdam Commission, as appointed by Moscow, are founded.

It is on these grounds that they strive, above all, to raise the masses as a whole, and the individuals to a higher level, to educate them one by one to be revolutionary fighters, by making them realise (not through theory only, but especially by practice), that all depends on them, that they are to expect nothing from foreign help, very little from leaders, and all from themselves.

Theoretically, therefore, and apart from private utterances, minor questions and excrescences, which like those of Wolffheim and Laufenberg, are inevitable in the first phases of a movement, the view taken by these parties and comrades is quite right, and your opposition absolutely wrong.[9]

On going from the East to the West of Europe, we traverse at a given moment an economic boundary. It runs from the Baltic to the Mediterranean, somewhere from Danzig to Venice. This line divides two worlds. West of this line there is a practically absolute domination of industrial, commercial and financial capital, united in the most highly developed banking capital.

Even agricultural capital is subject to, or has been compelled to unite with, this capital. This capital is organised to the utmost degree, and converges in the most firmly established State Governments of the world.

East of the line there is neither this gigantic development of industrial, commercial, transport and banking capital, not its almost absolute domination, nor, consequently, the firmly established modern State.

It would be marvellous, indeed, if the tactics of the revolutionary proletariat west of this boundary-line were the same as in the east!

II. The Question of the Trade Unions

Having brought forward the general theoretical bases, I will now proceed to prove, also by practice, that the Left Wing in Germany and England is right in general principles – on the questions of the Trade Unions and of parliamentarism.

First we will take the question of the Trade Unions.

“As parliamentarism embodies the spiritual, thus the Trade Union movement embodies the material power of the leaders over the masses of the workers. Under capitalism the Trade Unions constitute the natural organisations for uniting the proletariat, and as such Marx, already from the very beginning, has demonstrated their importance. Under a more developed capitalism, and to a greater extent even in the age of imperialism, the Trade Unions have ever more become gigantic unions, with a trend of development, equal to that of the bourgeois State bodies themselves. They have produced a class of officials, a bureaucracy, that controls all the engines of power of the organisation, the finances, the press, the appointment of lower officials; often it is invested with even greater power, so that from a servant of the rank and file, it has become the master, identifying itself with the organisation. The Trade Unions can be compared to the State and its bureaucracy, also in this: that, notwithstanding the democracy that is supposed to reign there, the members are unable to enforce their will against the bureaucracy; every revolt is broken against the cleverly constructed apparatus of official ordinances and statutes, before it has been able even to shake the highest regions.

“Only the most tenacious perseverance over several years can obtain even a moderate result, which mostly remains restricted to a change of persons. In the last few years, before and after the war, in England, Germany, and America, this often gave rise to rebellions of the members, who started strikes on their own account, against the will of the leaders, or the decrees of the union itself. That this should seem natural, and be accepted as such, is an indication in itself that the organisation does not represent the totality of the members, but something altogether foreign to them; and the workers do not control their union, but that the union is placed over them as an outside power against which they can rebel – a power which, all the same, has its origin in themselves: again, therefore, an analogy with the State. Once the revolt is over, the old domination begins again. In spite of the hatred and impotent exasperation of the masses, this domination manages to maintain itself, owing to the indifference and lack of clear insight, and of a united, indomitable will in the masses, and upheld as it is by the inner need for the Trade Unions, the only means the workers have to gain strength through unity, in their struggle against capital.”

Waning of TU Influence

“Fighting against capital, in a constant opposition against its tendency of increasing misery, and enabling the working class, through the restriction of these tendencies, to keep the existence the Trade Union movement, has played its part under capitalism, and has thus become itself a member of capitalist society. It is only at the beginning of the revolution, when the proletariat, from a member of capitalist society, is turned into the annihilator of this society, that the Trade Union finds itself in opposition to the proletariat.

“That which Marx and Lenin demonstrated for the State: that its organisation, in spite of formal democracy, makes it impossible to turn it into an Instrument of the proletarian revolution, must also hold good therefore for the Trade Union organisations. Their counter-revolutionary power cannot be destroyed or weakened through a change of staff, through the replacing of reactionary leaders by radical or revolutionary elements.

“It is the form of organisation that renders the masses as good as powerless, and prevents them from turning the Trade Unions into the organs of their will. The revolution can triumph only if it completely destroys this organisation: that is to say, if it alters the form of organisation so fundamentally as to turn it into something altogether different. The Soviet system, the construction from within, is not only able to uproot and abolish the State, but also the Trade Union bureaucracy: it will constitute not only the new political organs of the proletariat as opposed to capitalism, but likewise the foundation for the new Trade Unions. In the party factions in Germany, the idea of a form of organisation being revolutionary has been mocked at, because it is only the revolutionary sentiment, the revolutionary mind of the members, that matters. However, if the most important part of the revolution consists in the masses conducting their own concerns – the control of society and production – then every form of organisation that does not allow the masses to rule and to guide for themselves, must needs be counter-revolutionary and harmful, and as such it must be replaced by another form, which is revolutionary in so far as it allows the workers to decide matters for themselves.

“Through their very nature the Trade Unions are useless arms for the West-European revolution! Apart from the fact that they have become tools of capitalism, and that they are in the hands of traitors, apart from the fact that through their nature they are bound to make slaves of the members, no matter what the leaders may be, they are also unfit for use generally.” (Pannekoek 1920)

The Harder Task of Europe.

The Trade Unions are too weak in the contest against the most highly-organised capital in Western-European States. These latter are powerful: the unions are not. To a great extent the Trade Unions are Professional Unions as yet, which cannot make a revolution, if it were for that fact alone. And in so far as they are industrial unions, they are not founded on the factories, on the workshops themselves, and are consequently weak. Also they are more unions for mutual aid than for struggle, dating as they do from the days of the small bourgeoisie. Even before the revolution, their organisation was already inadequate for the struggle; for the Revolution itself it cannot serve at all – in Western Europe. For the factories, the workers in the factories, make the revolution, not in the industries and professions, but in the workshops. Moreover, these unions are far too slow-working, complicated instruments, good only for the evolutionary period. Even if the revolution should not succeed right away, and we had once more to revert to peaceful action for a while, the Trade Unions would have to be destroyed and replaced by industrial unions, on a basis of industrial or workshop organisation. And with these miserable Trade Unions, that must be done away with in any case, they want to make the revolution! The workers in Western Europe need WEAPONS for the revolution. The only weapons for the revolution in Western Europe are Industrial Organisations. And these united into ONE big whole!

The workers in Western Europe need the very best weapons. They stand alone: they have no help. And therefore they need these industrial organisations. In Germany and England they need them at once, because there the revolution is nearest at hand. The other countries must have them as soon as possible, as soon as we can build them.

It is no good at all, Comrade Lenin, your saying: in Russia we did it in such and such a way, for in the first place you had no organisations that were so inadequate for the struggle as many of the Trade Unions are here. You had industrial unions. Secondly, your workers were more revolutionary in spirit. Thirdly, the organisation of the capitalists was weak: and the State also. And in the fourth place, and this is the main point: you had help. You did not need the very best of weapons. We stand alone, we must have them. We will not win unless we have them. We will be defeated over and over again, unless we have them.

Other grounds than material ones also demonstrate this.

Recall in your mind, Comrade, how things were in Germany, before and during the war. The Trade Unions, the far too weak but only means, were entirely in the hands of the leaders, who used them as dead machines on behalf of capitalism. Then the revolution broke out. The Trade Unions were used by the leaders and the masses of members as a weapon against the revolution. It was through their help, through their cooperation, through their leaders, nay, partly even through their members that the revolution was murdered. The Communists saw their own brothers being shot with the cooperation of the Trade Unions. Strikes in favour of the revolution were prevented, rendered impossible. Do you hold it possible, Comrade, that under such conditions revolutionary workers should remain in these unions? Especially when these latter are utterly inadequate instruments for the revolution! In my opinion this is a physical impossibility. What would you yourself have done, as a member of a political party, that of the Menshevists for instance, if these had acted thus in the revolution? You would have split the Party (if you had not already done so)! You will reply:

this was a political party, it is different in the case of a Trade Union. I believe you are mistaken. In the revolution, during the revolution, every Trade Union, every workers’ union even, is a political party – either pro- or counterrevolutionary.

In your article, however, you say, and you will do so now: these emotional impulses must be conquered, for the sake of unity and Communist propaganda. I will show you, by means of concrete examples, that during the revolution this was impossible in Germany. For these questions must also be considered quite concretely. Let us suppose that Germany had 100,000 really revolutionary dock labourers, 100,000 revolutionary metal workers, and 100,000 revolutionary miners; that these were willing to strike, to fight, to die for the revolution, and that the other millions were not. What are these 300,000 to do? They must in the first place unite, and form a fighting league. This you acknowledge. Without organisation workers can do nothing. Now a new league against old unions, even if the workers remain in the old ones, is a split already; if not formally, at any rate actually, in reality. Next, however, the members of the new league need a press, meetings, localities, a salaried staff. This requires heaps of money. And the German workers possess next to nothing. In order to keep the new league going, they must needs, whether they like it or not, leave the old one. Thus we see that, concretely considered, that which you, Comrade, propose, is impossible.

Build on New Foundations.

However, there are better material grounds yet. The German workers who left the Trade Unions, that wished to destroy them, that created the industrial organisations and workers’ unions, stood IN THE REVOLUTION. It was necessary to fight at ONCE. The revolution was there. The Trade Unions refused to fight. What is the good then of saying: remain in the Trade Unions, propagate your ideas, you will grow stronger, and become the majority. Apart from the fact that the minority would be strangled, as is the custom there, this would be quite fine, and also the Left Wing would try it, if there were only time to do so. But it was impossible to wait. The revolution had begun. And it is still going on!

IN THE REVOLUTION (mind, Comrade, it was in the revolution that the German workers split the Party, and created their Workers’ Union) the revolutionary workers will always separate themselves from the social-patriots. In the struggle, no other way is possible. No matter what you, and the Moscow Executive, and the International Congress say, and no matter how much you dislike a split in the Party, it will always take place, on psychological and material grounds, because the workers cannot in the long run tolerate the Trade Unions shooting them, and because there has to be fighting.

That is why the Left Wing has created the Workers’ Unions; and as they believe that the revolution in Germany is not over yet, but it will proceed to the final victory, they keep them up.

Comrade Lenin, is there another way out, in the workers’ movement, when two trends come up, but that of fighting? And when those trends are very divergent, if they oppose one another, is there another way out but secession? Did you ever hear of any other? And is there anything more opposed than revolution and counter-revolution?

For this reason again the KAPD and the General Workers’ Unions are quite right.

And, Comrade, have not these secessions, these clearances always been a blessing for the proletariat? Does not this always become evident after a while? I have some experience in this matter. When we as yet belonged to the social-patriotic party we had no influence – after our expulsion we had some – in the beginning, and very soon we won a great, a very great influence. And how about you, the Bolshevists, after the secession? I believe you fared quite well. Small influence at first, very much later on. And all now. It all depends on the economic and political development, whether a group, be it ever so small, does become the most powerful party. If the revolution in Germany lasts, there is a fair hope that the importance and the influence of the workers’ unions will surpass all the others. You should not be intimidated by their numbers – 70,000 against seven millions. Smaller groups than these have become the strongest – the Bolshevists, among others!

The industrial unions and workshop organisations, and the Workers’ Unions that are based on them and formed from them, why are they such excellent weapons for the revolution in Western Europe, the best weapons even together with the Communist Party? Because the workers act for themselves, infinitely more so than they did in the old Trade Unions, because now they control their leaders, and thereby the entire leadership, and because they have the supervision of the industrial organisation, and thereby of the entire union.

Every trade, every workshop is one whole, where the workers elect their representatives. The industrial organisations have been divided according to economic districts. Representatives have been appointed for the districts. And the districts in turn elect the general board for the entire State.

All the industrial organisations together, no matter to what trade they belong, constitute the one Workers’ Union.

This, as we see, is an organisation altogether directed towards the revolution.

If an interval of comparatively peaceful fighting should follow, this organisation might moreover be easily adapted. The industrial organisations would only have to be combined, according to the industries, within the compass of the Workers’ Unions.

The Worker has Power.

It is obvious. Here the workers, every worker, has power, for in his workshop he elects his own delegates, and through them he has direct control over the district and State bodies. There is strong centralisation, but not too strong. The individual and the industrial organisation has great power. He can dismiss or replace his delegates at any time, and compel them to replace the higher positions at the shortest notice. This is individualism, but not too much of it. For the central corporations, the districts and government councils have great power. The individual and the central board have just that amount of power, which this present period, in which the revolution breaks out, requires and allows.

Marx writes that under capitalism the citizen is an abstraction, a cipher, as compared to the State. It is the same in the Trade Unions. The bureaucracy, the entire system of the organisation plane ever so far above, and are altogether out of the reach of the worker. He cannot reach them. He is a cipher as compared to them, an abstraction. For them he is not even the man in the workshop. He is not a living, willing, struggling being. If in the old Trade Unions you replace the bureaucracy by other persons, you will see that before long these also have the same character; that they stand high, unattainably high above the masses, and are in no way in touch with them. Ninety-nine out of every hundred will be tyrants, and will stand on the side of the bourgeoisie. It is the very nature of the organisation that makes them so.

Your tactics strive to leave the Trade Unions as they are, “down below,” and only to give them other leaders somewhat more of the Left trend, is therefore purely a change “up above.” And the Trade Unions remain in the power of leaders. And these, once spoilt, everything is as of old, or at the very best, a slight improvement in the layers up above. No, not even if you yourself, or we ourselves, were the leaders, we would not consent to this. For we wish to enable the masses themselves to become more intelligent, more courageous, self-acting, more elevated in all things. We want the masses themselves to make the revolution. For only thus the revolution can triumph here in Western Europe. And to this end the old Trade Unions must be destroyed.

Industrial Workers Decide.

How utterly different it is in the industrial unions. Here it is the worker himself who decides about tactics, trend, and struggle, and who intervenes if the “leaders” do not act as he wants them to. The factory, the workshop, being at the same time the organisation, he stands continually in the fight himself.

In so far as it is possible under capitalism, he is the maker and the guide of his own fate, and as this is the case with every one of them, THE MASS IS THE MAKER AND LEADER OF ITS OWN FIGHT.

More, infinitely more so, than was ever possible in the old Trade Unions, reformist as well as syndicalist.[10]

The industrial unions and workers’ unions that make the individuals themselves, and consequently the masses themselves, the direct fighters, those that really wage the war, are for that very reason the best weapons for the revolution, the weapons we need here in Western Europe, if ever we shall be able without help to overthrow the most powerful capitalism of the world.

But, Comrade, these are only the weaker grounds yet, as compared to the last, main actual reason, which hangs closely together with the principles I have indicated at the beginning. And it is this last ground which is decisive for the KAPD and the opposition party in England. These parties strive greatly to raise the spiritual level of the masses and individuals in Germany and England.

They are of the opinion that there is only ONE means to that end. And I should like to know whether you know of another means in the Labour movement? It is the formation of a group! That shows, in the struggle, what the mass should be. That shows, fighting, what the mass MUST be. If you know of another means, Comrade, tell me so. I know none other.

In the Labour movement, and especially, I imagine, in the revolution, there is but one way to prove the example – the example itself, the DEED.

The comrades of the Left Wing believe that this small group, in its fight against the Trade Unions and against Capitalism, will win the Trade Unions to its side, or, which is also possible, that gradually the Trade Unions will be directed towards a better course.

This can be attained only through the example. For the raising of the German worker to a higher level, therefore, these new organisations are absolutely indispensable.

The new formation, the Workers’ Union, must act against the Trade Unions, in exactly the same way as the Communist parties act against the Socialist parties.[11]

The servile, reformist, social-patriotic masses can be converted only through example.

Next I come to England: to the English Left Wing.

After Germany, England is nearest to a revolution, not because in that country the situation is revolutionary already, but because the proletariat there is so numerous, and the capitalist and economic conditions most favourable. Only a strong blow is needed there and the fight will begin, a fight which can only end in a victory. And the blow will come. This is felt, this is almost instinctively known by the most advanced workers of England (as we all feel it), and because they feel this, they have founded a new movement, which, whilst manifesting itself in various directions, and searching as yet, just as in Germany – is in general the rank and file movement, the movement of the masses themselves, without, or practically without leaders.[12]

Their movement is very much like the German Workers’ Union and its industrial organisations.

Did you observe, Comrade, that this movement has arisen in two of the most advanced countries only? And from the ranks of the workers themselves? And in many places.[13] This proves already in itself that it is of natural growth, and not to be stopped!

Struggle in England Essential.

And in England this movement, this struggle against the Trade Unions, is needed more almost than in Germany, for the English Trade Unions are not only a tool in the hands of the leaders, for the maintenance of capitalism, but they are at the same time far more inefficient as a means for the revolution than those of Germany. The way they are conducted dates from the time of the small struggle, often as far back as the 19th or even the 18th century. England not only has industries where 25 Trade Unions exist, but most of the unions fight one another to the death for members!! And the members are utterly without power. Do you also wish to retain these Trade Unions, Comrade Lenin?

Must not these be opposed, split up, and destroyed? If you are against the Workers’ Unions you must also be against the Shop Committees, the Shop Stewards, and the Industrial Unions. Whoever is in favour of the latter, is also in favour of the former. For the Communists in either aim at the same things.

The English Communists of the Left Wing wish to use this new trend in the Trade Union movement to destroy the English Trade Unions in their present shape, to alter them, to replace them by new instruments in the class struggle, which can be applied for the revolution. The same reasons that we have brought forward for the German movement holds good here.

In the postscript of the Executive Committee of the Third International to the KAPD, I have read that the EC is in favour of the IWW in America, as long as this latter wishes only political action and affiliation to the Communist Parties. And these IWW need not join the American Trade Unions! But the Executive Committee is against the Workers’ Union in Germany; this latter must join the Trade Unions, although it is communist, and works in cooperation with the political party.

And you, Comrade Lenin, are in favour of the rank and file movement in England (although this often causes a split, and although many of its members want the destruction of the Trade Unions!) and against the Workers’ Unions in Germany.

Executive Committee’s Opportunism.

I can explain your attitude and that of the Executive Committee only by opportunism; and a mistaken opportunism to boot.

It goes without saying that the Left Wing of the Communists in England cannot go as far as in Germany, because in England the revolution has not begun yet. It cannot as yet organise the rank and file movement all over the country into one whole for the revolution. But the English Left Wing is preparing this. And as soon as the revolution comes, the great masses of workers will leave the old Trade Unions as unserviceable for the revolution, and will join the industrial organisations.

And as the Left Communist Wing penetrates everywhere into this movement, seeking to spread the Communist ideas, it raises the workers by means of its example on to a higher level, also there, and already now. And, as in Germany, that is its real aim.[14]

The General Workers’ Unions, and the rank and file movement, which are both founded on the factories, the workshops, and on these alone, are the forerunners of the Workers’ Councils, the Soviets. As the revolution in Western Europe will be very difficult and consequently of probably very long duration, there will be a long period of transition, in which the Trade Unions are no longer any good, and in which there are no Soviets as yet. This period of transition will be filled out with the struggle against the Trade Unions, their re-forming, their replacing by better organisations. You need not fear, we will have ample time!

Once again this will be so, not because we of the Left Wing will it so, but because the revolution must needs have these new organisations. The revolution cannot triumph without them.

Hail the Rank and File Movement.

All hail, therefore, the rank and file movement in England, and the Workers’ Unions in Germany, first forerunners of the Soviets in Europe. Good luck to you, the first organisations that, with the Communist parties, will bring the revolution in Western Europe.

You, Comrade Lenin, wish to compel us to use bad weapons here in Western Europe, where we stand alone, without a single ally, against an as yet extremely powerful, extremely organised and armed capitalism, and where we stand in need of the very best of weapons, the very strongest. Where we want to organise the revolution on the shop floor, and on a shop floor basis, you wish to force the miserable Trade Unions on us. The revolution in Western Europe can and must be organised only on the shop floor and on a shop floor basis, because here capitalism has attained such a high economic and political organisation (in all directions) and because the workers (except for the Communist Party) have no other strong weapons. The Russians were armed, and had the poor peasants. What the weapons and the peasants were for the Russians, tactics and the organisation must be for us for the time being. And then YOU recommend the Trade Unions! From psychological, as well as from material grounds, in the midst of the revolution, we MUST fight these Trade Unions, and you try to hinder us in this fight. We can fight only be means of a splitting-up, and you are preventing us. We wish to form groups, that are to be an example, the only way of showing the proletariat what it is we seek, and you forbid this. We wish to raise the proletariat of Europe to a higher level, and you throw stones in our path.

You do not wish them then: the splitting up, the new formations, the higher stage of development!

And why not?

Because you want to have the big parties, and the big Trade Unions, in the Third International.

To us this looks like opportunism, opportunism of the very worst kind.[15]

Today, in the International, your actions differ widely from what they were in the Maximalist party. This was kept very “pure” (and is so to this day, perhaps). In the International, all elements are to be accepted right away, no matter how poorly communistic they are.

It is the curse of the Labour movement that, as soon as it has acquired a certain “power,” it seeks to enlarge this power by unprincipled means. Social-Democracy also was originally “pure” in almost all countries. Most social-patriots of today were real Marxists. By Marxist propaganda the masses were won, and as soon as the party gained “power” they were abandoned.

Just as the Social-Democrats acted at that time, you and the Third International are acting now. Not on a national scale, of course, but internationally. The Russian Revolution has triumphed through “purity,” through firmness of principle. Now it has gained power, and through it the international proletariat has obtained power, this power is to be extended over Europe, and immediately the old tactics are abandoned!

Instead of applying the same efficacious tactics in ALL the other countries to the inner strengthening of the Third International, opportunism is again resorted to, as before, in Social-Democracy. All elements are now to be affiliated: the Trade Unions, the Independents, the French Centre, parts of the Labour Party. To preserve the semblance of Marxism, conditions are put that have to be SIGNED, and Kautsky, Hilferding, Thomas, etc., are expelled. The great mass, however, the medium quality, is admitted, is driven in by all possible means. And in order that the Centre shall be all the more powerful, the “Left Wing” is not admitted unless it joins that Centre! THE VERY BEST REVOLUTIONARIES, like the KAPD, are excluded!

And when these huge masses have thus been united on one average line, they proceed to one common advance under an iron discipline, and with leaders that have been tested in this most extraordinary manner. A common advance whither? Into the abyss.

Failure of Second International.

What is the use of the finest principles, of the most splendid Theses of the Third International, if in practice we exercise this opportunism? The Second International also had the finest principles, yet it failed through practice.

We, however, the Left Wing, refuse to do so. In Western Europe we wish first to build very firm, very clear, and very strong (though at the outset perhaps quite small) parties, kernels, just as you did in Russia. And once we have those, we will make them bigger. But we always want them to be very firm, very strong, very “pure.” Only thus can we triumph in Western Europe. Therefore we absolutely reject your tactics, Comrade.

You say that we, the members of the Amsterdam Commission, have forgotten or have never known the lessons former revolutions have taught. Well, Comrade, there is one thing about these former revolutions which I remember quite well. It is this: that the extreme “Left” parties have always played a prominent, eminent part in all of them. It was such in the revolution of the Netherlands against Spain, in the English revolution, in that of France, in the Commune, and in the two Russian revolutions.

In accordance with the development of the Labour movement, there are two trends here in the West-European revolution: the radical and the opportunist trend. These can only arrive at sound tactics, at unity, by means of a mutual struggle. The radical trend, however, though in some particulars it may go too far, is much the best. And yet you, Comrade Lenin, go and support the opportunists!

And not only this! The Executive in Moscow, the RUSSIAN leaders of a revolution that triumphed only through the help of millions of poor peasants, forces these their tactics on the proletariat of Western Europe, which stands and has to stand all alone. And in so doing annihilates the best trend in Western Europe!

What incredible foolishness, and especially what dialectics:

When the revolution in Western Europe breaks out, it will work for you blue wonders! But the proletariat will be the victim.

Counter-revolutionary Trade Unions.

You, Comrade, and the Executive in Moscow, know that the Trade Unions in Western Europe are counter-revolutionary forces. This is evident from your Theses. And yet you wish to retain them. You also know that the Workers’ Union, the rank and file movement, are revolutionary organisations. You say yourself, in your Theses, that the industrial organisations must be and are our aim. And yet you want to smother them. You want to destroy the organisations in which the workers, every worker, and therefore the mass, can attain power and strength, and to keep those in which the mass is a dead tool in the hands of the leaders. Thus you strive to bring the Trade Unions in your power, in the power of the Third International.

Why is it you wish to do so? Why do you follow these bad tactics? Because you want masses around you, no matter of what quality, as long as they are masses. Because you believe that if only you have masses obeying you on account of a strict discipline and centralisation, no matter whether they are communist, half communist, or not communist at all, you, the leaders, will win, in a word, because your tactics are leader-tactics.

By criticizing leader-tactics I do not mean to advocate politics without leaders and centralisation, for without these one attains nothing (they are as indispensable as the party). I am criticizing those politics that collect masses, without inquiring into their convictions, their heart; politics that assume that the leaders, once they have great masses around them, will be able to win.

Russian Tactics Useless in Western Europe.

But these politics, which you and the Executive are now following, will lead nowhere in Western Europe. Capitalism here is far too powerful as yet, and the proletariat is much too isolated. These politics will fail here, just as those of the Second International did.

Here the workers themselves must become strong, and, through them, their leaders. Here the evil the leadership-policy, must be seized by the root.

Through these your tactics on the Trade Union question you and the Moscow Executive have proved, to my mind, that UNLESS YOU ALTER THESE TACTICS, YOU CANNOT CONDUCT THE REVOLUTION IN WESTERN EUROPE.

You say that the Left Wing, in following its tactics, can only talk. Well, Comrade, in the other countries the Left Wing has had next to no opportunities as yet to act. But look at Germany, and the tactics and actions of the KAPD in the “Kapp putsch” and with regard to the Russian revolution, and you will have to take those words back.

III. Parliamentarism

Next we have to take up the defence of the Left Wing on the question of Parliamentarism.[16] The same universal theoretical grounds that we dealt with for the Trade Unions, determine the attitude of the Left Wing in this question also. The fact that the proletariat stands alone, the gigantic force of the enemy, and consequently the necessity for the mass to raise itself to a much higher level, and to rely entirely on its own support. I need not repeat these grounds here. Here, however, there are a few more grounds than on the Trade Union question.

Subjects of Bourgeois Democracy.

In the first place, the workers of Western Europe and the working masses in general are completely subjected, as far as ideas are concerned, to the bourgeois system of representation, to parliamentarism, to bourgeois democracy. Much more so than the workers of Eastern Europe. Here bourgeois ideology has taken a strong hold on the whole of social and political life. It has penetrated far more into the heads and hearts of the workers. Here they have already been brought up in that ideology for hundreds of years. These ideas have altogether saturated the workers.

These relations have been very well depicted by Comrade Pannekoek in the Viennese periodical, Kommunismus:

The experience of Germany places us face to face with the great problem of the revolution in Western Europe. In these countries the old bourgeois method of production, and the corresponding highly developed culture of many centuries, have made a thorough impression on the thoughts and feelings of the masses. Consequently the spiritual and mental character of the masses here is quite different from that of the Eastern countries, where they had not experienced this domination of bourgeois culture. And herein above all lies the difference in the progress of the revolution in the East and in the West. In England, France, Holland, Scandinavia, Italy and Germany, ever since the middle ages there has been a strong bourgeoisie, with petty-bourgeois and primitive capitalist production; whilst feudalism was being defeated, an equally strong, independent peasantry sprang up in the country, which was master in its own small sphere.

On this soil bourgeois civic spiritual life developed into a firm national culture, especially in the coastlands of England and France, which were most advanced by capitalist development. In the nineteenth century capitalism, by bringing the whole of agriculture under its power, and pulling even the most isolated farms into the circle of the world economy, has raised this national culture to a higher level, has refined it, and by means of its spiritual methods of propaganda, the Press, the school, and the Church, has beaten it firmly into the brains of the masses it has proletarianised, both those who were sucked into the cities, and those who were left on the land. This applies not only to the original capitalist countries, but also, though in a somewhat modified form, to America and Australia, where the Europeans founded new States, and to the countries of Central Europe, that had until then stagnated: Germany, Austria, Italy, where new capitalist development could link up with old, obsolete, petty-bourgeois economy, agriculture and culture. In the Eastern countries of Europe capitalism found quite different material and other traditions. Here in Russia, Poland, Hungary, and the region to the east of the Elbe, there was no small, strong bourgeois class dominating spiritual life since time immemorial; primitive agrarian relations with large scale landed property, patriarchal feudalism and village communism determined spiritual life.

Here, on the ideological problem, Comrade Pannekoek has hit the nail on the head. Far better than it has ever been done from your side, he has demonstrated the difference between the east and the west of Europe, from the ideological angle, and has given the cue towards finding revolutionary tactics for Western Europe.

This only need be combined with the MATERIAL causes of the power of our opponents, that is to say with banking capital, and the tactics become perfectly clear.

Workers Win Rights for Possessing Class.

However, there is yet more to be said on the ideological question: civil liberties, the power of parliament, has been won in Western Europe by means of wars for liberty, waged by former generations, by the ancestors. And though at the time these rights were only for citizens, for the possessing class, they were won by the people all the same. The thought of these struggles is to this day a deeply-rooted tradition in the blood of this people. Revolutions are always the deepest memories of a people. Unconsciously the thought that it meant a victory to achieve representation in parliament has a tremendous, silent force. This is especially the case in the oldest bourgeois countries, where long or repeated wars have been waged for freedom: in England, Holland and France. Also, though on a smaller scale, in Germany, Belgium, and the Scandinavian countries. An inhabitant of the East cannot realise, perhaps, how strong this influence can be.

Moreover the workers themselves have fought here, often for years, for universal suffrage, and have thus obtained it, directly or indirectly. This was also a victory, which bore fruit at the time. The thought and the feeling generally prevails, that it is progress, and a victory, to be represented, and to entrust one’s representative with the care of one’s affairs in Parliament. The influence of this ideology is enormous.

And finally, reformism has brought the working class of Western Europe altogether under the power of the parliamentary representatives, who have led it into war, and into alliances with capitalism. The influence of reformism is also colossal.

All these causes have made the worker the slave of Parliament, to which he leaves all action. He himself does not act any longer.[17]

Then comes the revolution. Now he has to act for himself. Now the worker, alone with his class, must fight the gigantic enemy, must wage the most terrible fight that ever was. No tactics of the leaders can help him. Desperately the classes, all classes, oppose the workers, and not one class sides with them. On the contrary, if he should trust his leaders, or other classes in parliament, he runs a great risk of falling back into his old weakness of letting the leaders act for him, of trusting parliament, of persevering in the old notion that others can make the revolution for him, of pursuing illusions, of remaining in the old bourgeois ideology.

This relationship of the masses to the leaders has also been excellently characterised by Comrade Pannekoek:

Parliamentarism is the typical form of the kind of fight carried out by means of leaders, in which the masses themselves play but a minor part. Its practice consists in this: that representatives, individual persons, carry on the actual fighting. With the masses it must therefore awaken the illusion that others can do the fighting for them. Formerly the belief was that the leaders could obtain important reforms for the workers through parliament; many had even had the illusion that the members of parliament, by means of laws and regulations, could carry out the transition to Socialism. Today, since parliamentarism acts in a more honest way, the argument is heard that the representatives may do great things in parliament for communist propaganda. Ever again the importance of the leaders is emphasised, and it is only natural that professionals should decide about politics, be it in the democratic guise of congress discussions and resolutions. The history of Social Democracy is a series of fruitless attempts to let the members determine their own politics. Wherever the proletariat goes in for parliamentary action, all this is inevitable, as long as the masses have not yet created organs for self-activity; as long, therefore, as the revolution has not broken out. As soon as the masses can act for themselves, and can consequently decide, the disadvantages of parliamentarism become paramount.

The problem of tactics is how to eradicate the traditional bourgeois way of thinking that saps the strength of the mass of the proletariat; everything which reinforces the traditional view is wrong. The most firmly rooted, most tenacious part of this mental attitude is dependence on leaders, to whom it leaves the decisions in all general questions, and the control of all class matters. Inevitably, parliamentarism has a tendency to crush in the masses the activity necessary for the revolution. No matter what fine speeches are delivered to inspire the workers to revolutionary deeds, revolutionary action does not spring from such words, but from the keen and hard necessity that leaves no other choice whatsoever.

Demands of the Revolution.

The revolution also demands something more than the fighting action of the masses that overthrows the government, and which, as we know, is not under the control of leaders, but can only come from the deeply felt impulse of the masses. The revolution demands that the great questions of social construction be taken in hand, that difficult decisions shall be made, that the entire proletariat be roused to one creative impulse; and this is only possible if first the advance guard, and then an ever greater mass takes things in hand – a mass that is conscious of its responsibilities, that searches, propagates, fights, strives, reflects, considers, dares, and carries out. All this is, however, hard work: so as long as the proletariat thinks there is an easier way, letting others act for it by carrying out agitation from a high platform, by taking decisions, by giving signals for action, by making laws, it will hesitate, and the old ways of thinking and the old weaknesses will keep them pacified.

The workers of Western Europe, let it be repeated a thousand and, if need be, a hundred thousand or a million times – and whoever has not learned and seen it since November 1918 is blind – the West European workers must in the first place act for themselves – in the Trade Unions and also politically, and they must let their leaders act, because the workers stand alone, and because no clever tactics of leaders can help them. The greatest impetus must come from them. Here, for the first time, to a far greater degree than in Russia, THE LIBERATION OF THE WORKERS MUST BE THE WORK OF THE WORKERS THEMSELVES. That is why comrades of the Left Wing are right in saying to the German Comrades: don’t participate in the elections, and boycott parliament – politically you must do everything for yourselves – you cannot win unless you do so for two, five, or ten years; unless you train yourself to it man by man, group after group, from town to town, from province to province, and finally in the entire land, as a party, a union; as industrial councils, as a mass, and as a class. You cannot win unless finally, through incessant training and fighting, and through defeat, you advance to that stage, the great majority among you, where you can do all this, and where, at last, after all this schooling, you constitute one united mass.

And that is why the comrades of the KAPD were right, perfectly right – history demanded it of them – at once to proceed to a secession, to split the Trade Unions; as this covers the entire political question, there is an urgent need for the fight, the example, the lead.

An Example Needed.

But these comrades of the Left Wing, the KAPD, would have committed a grave mistake had they done nothing but preach and propagate this. Here even more perhaps, than in the case of the party, when the Spartakus League, or rather the Spartakus Zentrale, refused to stand this propaganda of theirs. For what the German slaves, what all workers of Western Europe needed in the first place, was an example. In this nation of political slaves, and in this subjected West European world, there had to be a group that gave the example of free fighters without leaders, that is to say, without leaders of the old type – without members of parliament.

And once again all this must be, not because it is so beautiful, or good, or heroic, but because the German and West-European proletariat stands alone in this terrible fight, without help from any other class, because the cleverness of the leaders is of no avail any longer, because there is but one thing that is needed, the will and firmness of the mass, man for man, woman for woman, and of the mass as a whole.

For this higher motive, and because the opposite tactics, parliamentary action, can but harm this higher cause, infinitely higher than the petty profit of parliamentary propaganda, for this higher motive the Left Wing rejects parliamentarism.

You say that Comrade Liebknecht, if he yet lived, might work wonders in the Reichstag. We deny it. Politically he could not manoeuvre there, because all the bourgeois parties oppose us in one united front. And he could win the workers no better in parliament than outside it. On the other hand, the masses, to a very great extent, would leave everything to be done through his speeches, so that his parliamentary action would have a harmful effect.[18]

Big Numbers of no Avail.

It is true that this work of the Left Wing would take years, and those people who for some reason or other, strive for immediate results, big numbers, large amounts of members and votes, big parties, and a powerful (seemingly powerful!) International, will have a rather long time to wait. Those, however, who realise that the victory of the German and West-European revolution can only come, if a very great number, if the mass of the workers believe in themselves, will be satisfied with these tactics.

For Germany and Western Europe they are the only tactics possible. This is particularly true for England.

Comrade, do you know the bourgeois individualism of England, its bourgeois liberty, its parliamentary democracy, as they have grown during some six or seven centuries? Do you really know them? Do you know how utterly they differ from conditions in your country? Do you know how deeply these ideas are rooted in everyone, also in the proletarian individuals of England and its colonies? Do you know into what an immense whole it has developed? Do you know how generally spread it is? In social and personal life? I do not think there is one Russian, one inhabitant of Eastern Europe, who knows them. If you knew them, you would rejoice at those among the English workers who totally break with this greatest political formation of world capitalism.

If this is done with full consciousness, it demands a revolutionary mind, quite as great as that which once broke with Czarism. This rupture with the entire English democracy constitutes the era of the English revolution.

And this is done, as it must inevitably be done in England, with its tremendous history, tradition, and strength; it is done with the utmost firmness of purpose. Because the English proletariat has the greatest power (potentially it is the most powerful on the earth), it makes a sudden stand against the mightiest bourgeoisie of the earth, and with one stroke rejects the whole of English democracy, although the revolution has not yet broken out there.

That is what their vanguard did, just like the German one, the KAPD. And why did they do it? Because they know that they also stand alone, and that no class in all England will help them, and that above all the proletariat itself, and not the leaders, must fight and win there.[19]

A Great Day.

It was an historic day, Comrade, when on this June day in London the first Communist Party was founded, and this Party rejected the entire structure and government apparatus of seven hundred years. I wish Marx and Engels could have been present there. I believe they would have felt a great, a supreme joy at seeing how these English workers rejected the English State, the example for all States of the earth, and which for centuries has been the centre and stronghold of world capitalism and rules over one third of humanity; how they reject it and its parliament, though only theoretically as yet.

These tactics are all the more necessary in England because English capitalism supports the capitalism of all other countries, and will decidedly not scruple to summon auxiliaries from all over the world, against every foreign, as well as against its own proletariat. The fight of the English proletariat, therefore, is a struggle against world capitalism. All the more reason for the English Communists to give the most elevated and brilliant example. To wage an exemplary fight on behalf of the world proletariat, and to strengthen it by example.[20]

Thus there has to be everywhere one group that draws all the consequences; such groups are the salt of humanity.

Here, however, after this theoretical defence of anti-parliamentarism, I have to answer in detail your defence of parliamentarism. You defend it (from page 36 to 68), for England and Germany. The argumentation, however, holds good only for Russia (and at the very utmost for a few other East-European countries), not for Western Europe. That, as I have said before, IS Where your mistake lies. That turns you from a Marxist into an opportunist leader. That causes you, the Marxist, radical leader for Russia, and probably a few more East-European countries, to sink back into opportunism where Western Europe is concerned. And, if accepted here, your tactics would lead the entire West to perdition. This I will next prove in detail, in answer to your argumentation.

Comrade, on reading your argumentation from page 36 to 68, a recollection constantly occurred to me.

Amongst the Social Patriots.

I saw myself once more at a congress of the old Social-Patriotic Party of Holland, listening to a speech of Troelstra’s – a speech in which he depicted to the workers the great advantages of the reformist policy, in which he spoke of the workers that were not social-democratic yet, and that were to be won by compromise; in which he spoke of the alliances that were to be made (only provisionally, of course!) with the parties of these workers, and of the “rifts” in and between the bourgeois parties, of which we were to make use. In just the same way, in almost, nay in absolutely the same words, you, Comrade Lenin, speak for us West Europeans!

And I remember how we sat there, far back in the hall; we the Marxist Comrades, very few in number – only four or five. Henriette Roland Holst, Pannekoek, and a few others. Troelstra spoke persuasively and convincingly, just as you do, Comrade. And I remember how, in the midst of the thundering applause, of the brilliant reformist expositions and the reviling of Marxism, the workers in the hall looked round at the “idiots” and “asses” and “childish fools,” names that Troelstra called us at that time – almost the same as you call us now. To all probability things have been practically the same at the Congress of the International in Moscow, when you spoke against the “Left” Marxists. And his words – just like yours, Comrade – were so convincing, so logical, within the compass of his method, that at times I myself thought, yes, he is right.

Usually I was the one to speak for the opposition (in the years up to 1909, when we were expelled). Shall I tell you what I did, when I began to doubt about myself? I had a means that never failed: it was a sentence from the Party Programme:

“You shall ever act or speak in such a way that the class consciousness of the workers shall be roused and strengthened.”

And I asked myself: is the class consciousness of the workers roused or not by what the man over there is saying? And then I always knew that at once this was not the case, and that therefore I was right.

It was just the same reading your brochure. I hear your opportunist arguments for cooperation with non-Communist parties, with bourgeois elements, for compromise. And I am carried away. It all seems so brilliant, clear and fine. And so logical as well. But then I consider, as I used to long ago, just one phrase which some time ago I made for myself, for the campaign against the Communist opportunists. It is as follows:

Is what yonder Comrade says the sort of thing that strengthens the will of the masses for action, for the revolution, for the real revolution in Western Europe – yes or no?

And with regard to your brochure, my head and heart answer at the same time: no. Then I know at once, as surely as one can possibly know anything, that you are wrong.

I can recommend this method to the comrades of the Left Wing. Whenever you want to know, Comrades, in the severe struggles ahead of us, against the opportunists of all countries (here in Holland they have been waging for the last three years) whether and why you are right, ask yourself this question!

Lenin’s Three Arguments.

In your opposition to us, Comrade, you use only three arguments, that constantly recur all through your brochure, either separately or combined.

They are the following:

1. The advantages of parliamentary propaganda for winning the workers and the petit bourgeois elements to our side.

2. The advantages of parliamentary action for making use of the “rifts” between the parties, and for compromises with some of them.

3. The example of Russia, where this propaganda and the compromise worked so wonderfully well.

Further arguments you have none; I will answer them in turn.

To begin with the first argument, propaganda in parliament. This argument is only of very slight importance, for the non-communist workers, that is to say the social-democrats the Christian and other bourgeois elements do not, as a rule, read one word in their papers about our parliamentary speeches.

Often these speeches are utterly mutilated. With those, therefore, we achieve nothing We only get at the workers through our meetings, brochures and newspapers.

Action Speaks Louder than Words.

We, however (I often speak in the name of the KAPD), get at them especially through action (in the time of the revolution of which we speak) In all bigger towns and villages they see us act. They see our strikes, our street fights our councils. They hear our watchwords. They see our lead. This is the best propaganda, the most convincing. This action, however, is not in parliament!

The non-communist workers, therefore, the small peasants and bourgeois, can be reached quite well also without parliamentary action.

Here one part in particular from your brochure Infantile Disorder, must be refuted; it shows where opportunism is already leading you, Comrade.

On page 52 you say that the fact of the German workers coming in masses to join the ranks of the Independent Party, and not the Communist Party, is attributable to the parliamentary action of the Independents. The mass of the Berlin workers, therefore, had been as good as converted through the death of our Comrades Liebknecht and Rosa Luxemburg, through the purposeful strikes and the street fights of the Communists. Only a speech of Comrade Levi in parliament was lacking as yet! Had he but delivered this speech, they would have come to us, instead of to the double-minded Independents! No, comrade, this is not true. They have gone to the double-minds first because they were afraid as yet of the single-minded: the revolution. Because the transition from slavery to freedom lies through hesitation.

Look out, Comrade, you see whither opportunism is already leading you.

Your first argument is of no importance.

And if we consider that parliamentary action (in the revolution, in Germany and England, and all Western Europe) reinforces the workers’ idea that their leaders will do things for them, and dissuades them from the idea that they must do everything for themselves, we see that this argument does not only bring no good at all, but that it is exceedingly harmful.

The second argument: the advantage of parliamentary action (in revolutionary periods) for taking advantage of the rifts between the parties, and for compromises with some of them.

An Uncongenial Task.

To refute this argument (especially for England and Germany, but also for all Western Europe), I shall have to go somewhat more into detail than with the first. It is most uncongenial to me, Comrade, that I should have to do this against you. This entire question of revolutionary opportunism, for it is no longer reformist, but revolutionary opportunism, is a vital question, literally a matter of life and death for us West-Europeans. The matter itself, the refutation, is easy. We have refuted this argument a hundred times, when Troelstra, Henderson, Bernstein, Legien, Renaudel, Van der Velde, etc., all the Social-Patriots, used it. Why Kautsky, when he was still Kautsky, has refuted it. It was the greatest argument of the reformists. We did not think we would ever have to do it against you. Now we have to.

Well then: The advantage of profiting in parliament from the “rifts” is utterly insignificant, for the very reason that for several years, for a score of years, these “rifts” have been insignificant. Those between the big bourgeois and the petty-bourgeois parties. In Western Europe, in Germany and England. This does not date from the revolution. It was so long before, in the period of peaceful evolution. All parties, including the petty-bourgeoisie and the small peasants, had been AGAINST the workers for a long time already, and between themselves the difference in matters concerning the workers (and consequently on nearly all points), had become very slight, or had often quite disappeared.

This is an established fact, theoretically as well as practically, in Western Europe, in Germany and England.

Theoretically, because capital concentrates in banks, trusts, and monopolies to an enormous degree.

In Western Europe, and especially in England and Germany, these banks, trusts and cartels have assimilated nearly all capital in the industries, commerce, transport, and to a great extent even in agriculture. The whole of industry, including small scale industry, the whole of transport, including the small enterprises, the whole of commerce, big as well as small, and the greater part of agriculture, big and small, has consequently become absolutely dependent on big capital. They have fused with it.

Comrade Lenin says that small commerce, transport, industry and agriculture, waver between capital and workers. This is wrong. It was so in Russia, and it used to be so here. In Western Europe, in Germany and England, they are now so largely, so utterly dependent on big capital, that they no longer waver. The small shop owner, the small industrialist, the small trader, are absolutely in the power of the trusts, the monopolies, the banks. It is from these that they get their goods and credit. And even the small peasant, through his cooperative and his mortgages, is dependent on the trust, the monopoly, and the banks.

Comrade, this part of my argumentation, the argumentation of the “Left Wing,” is the most important of all. The entire tactics for Europe and America depend on it.

What elements do they consist of, Comrade, these lower layers that stand nearest to the proletariat? Of shop owners, artisans, lower officials and employees, and poor peasants.

Let us consider what these are in Western Europe! Follow me, Comrade. Not only in a big shop – there the dependence on capital is a matter of course – but in a small one in a poor, proletarian quarter. Look around you. What do you see? Everything: nearly all the goods, clothes, foodstuffs, implements, fuel etc., are products not only of big industry, but often of the trusts. And not only in the cities, but in the country likewise. The small shopkeepers are for the most part storekeepers of big capital. That is to say of banking capital, for this rules the large factories and the trusts.

Look about you in the workshop of a small artisan, no matter whether in the city or the country. His raw materials, the metals, the leather, the wood, etc., come to him from big capital, often even from the monopolies, that is to say from the banks as well. And in so far as the purveyors are small capitalists as yet, these in their turn depend on banking capital.

And the lower officials and employees? The great majority of them in Western Europe is in the employment of big capital, the State, of the municipality, finally therefore also of the banks. The percentage of employees and officials nearest to the proletariat that are directly or indirectly dependent on big capital is very great in Western Europe. In Germany and England, as well as in the United States and the British colonies, it is enormous.

And the interests of these layers are one therefore with those of big capital, that is to say the banks.

I have already dealt with the poor peasants, and we have seen, that for the time being they cannot be won for Communism, for the reasons already mentioned, and also because they are dependent on big capital for their implements, goods, and mortgages.

What does this prove, Comrade?

That modern West-European (and American) society and State have become ONE big, thoroughly organised whole, which is entirely controlled, moved and regulated by banking capital. That society here is a regulated body, capitalistically regulated, but regulated all the same. That banking capital is the blood, flowing through the entire body, and nourishing all its branches. That this body is one, and that capital renders this body enormously strong, and that therefore all the members will stand by it to the very end – all except the proletariat, which makes this blood: surplus value.

Through this dependence of all classes on banking capital and through the enormous strength of banking capital, all the classes are hostile to the revolution, so that the proletariat stands alone.

And as banking capital is the most pliable and elastic force in the world, and increases its power a thousand times through its credit, it upholds and maintains capitalism and the capitalist State, even after this terrible war, after the loss of thousands of billions, and in the midst of conditions that seem like bankruptcy to us.

And it is through this that, with all the more force, it collects all classes around it, combining them into one whole, against the proletariat. And the force and pliability, and the unison of all classes are so great, that they will last long after the revolution has broken out.

Cause of Revolution’s Delay.

It is true that capital has been terribly weakened. The crisis is coming, and with it the revolution. And I believe that the revolution will win. But there are two things that still keep capitalism very strong: the spiritual slavery of the masses, and banking capital.

Our tactics, therefore, have to be based on the power of these two things.

And there is one other cause through which organised banking capital rallies all the classes against the revolution. It is the great number of proletarians. All the classes feel that if only they could induce the workers (in Germany alone almost twenty million) to work 10, 12, or 14 hours a day, then there would be a way out of the crisis. That is why they hold together.

These are the economic conditions in Western Europe.

In Russia banking capital did not have this power yet, so there the bourgeoisie and the lower classes did not unite. Consequently, there were real rifts between them. And there the proletariat did not stand alone.

These economic causes determine politics. It is through this that those classes in Western Europe (dependent slaves that they are) vote for their masters, for these big capitalist parties, and that they belong to them. In Germany and England, in Western Europe, these elements have hardly any parties of their own.

All this was very strong already before the revolution and before the war. Now through the war it has become intensified to an enormous extent – through nationalism and chauvinism, but especially through the massive trustification of all economic forces. Through the revolution, however, this tendency – unity of all bourgeois parties with all petty-bourgeois elements and all poor peasants – has again been immensely strengthened.

The Russian Revolution has not been in vain! Now we know everywhere what to expect.

Thus in Western Europe, and especially in England and Germany, the big bourgeoisie and the big peasants, the middle classes and middle peasants, the lower bourgeoisie and the small peasants, are all united against the workers, through monopoly, the banks, the trusts; through imperialism, the war and revolution.[21] And, as the labour question encompasses all things, they are united on all questions.

Here, Comrade, I must make the same remark I have already made (in the first chapter) with regard to the peasant question. I know quite well that the little minds in our Party, that lack the strength to base tactics on great, general lines, and consequently base them on the small, particular ones, that these little minds will call the attention to those elements among these layers, that have not yet come under the banner of big capital.

I do not deny that there are such elements, but I maintain that the general truth, the general tendency in Western Europe, is that they are under the banner of big capital. And it is on this general truth that our tactics must be based!

Neither do I deny that there may be “rifts” yet. I only say that the general tendency is, and will be, for a long time after the revolution: unity of these classes. And I say that for the workers in Western Europe it is better to have their attention directed to that unity than to these rifts. For it is they themselves that must in the first place make the revolution, and not their leaders, their Members of Parliament.

Nor do I say that (which the little minds will make of my words) that the real interests of these classes are the same as those of big capital. I know that these classes are oppressed by it.

What I say is simply this:

These classes cling to big capital even more firmly than before, because now they also see the danger of the proletarian revolution ahead.

In Western Europe the domination of capital means to them a more or less sure existence, the possibility of, or at least the belief in, a betterment of their position. Now they are threatened by chaos and the revolution, which for some time to come means worse chaos. That is why they side with capital in the effort to sweep chaos away by every possible means, to save production, to drive the workers to work longer hours, and to endure privation patiently. For them the proletarian revolution in Western Europe is the fall and breakdown of all order, of all security of existence, be it ever so insufficient. Therefore they all support big capital, and will continue to do so for a long time, including during the revolution.

All Classes Fight the Proletariat.

For finally I must yet point out that what I have said applies to the tactics at the beginning and in the course of the revolution. I know that quite at the end of the revolution, when victory draws near and capitalism has been shattered, these classes will come to us. But we must determine our tactics not for the end, but for the beginning and in the course of the revolution.

Theoretically, therefore, all this had to be so.

Theoretically these classes had to cooperate.

Theoretically this is an established fact. But practically as well.

This I will prove next:

For many years already the entire bourgeoisie, all bourgeois parties in Western Europe, also those that belong to the small peasants and middle bourgeoisie, have done nothing for the workers. And they were all of them hostile to the labour movement, and in favour of imperialism, in favour of the war.

For years already there had not been a single party in England, in Germany, in Western Europe, that supported the workers. All were opposed to them; in all matters.[22]

There was no new labour legislation. Conditions grew worse instead. Laws were passed against going on strike. Even higher taxes were levied.

Imperialism, colonisation, marinism and militarism were supported by all bourgeois, including the petty-bourgeois parties. The difference between liberal and clerical, conservative and progressive, big and petty bourgeois, disappeared.

Everything which the social-patriots, the reformists said, about the difference between the parties, about the “rifts” between them, was a fraud. And all this has now been brought forward by you, Comrade Lenin! It was a fraud for all countries in Western Europe. This has been best proved in July-August 1914.

At that time they were all one. And the revolution has made them even far more united in practice. Against the revolution, and consequently against all workers, for the revolution alone can bring actual betterment to all workers, against the revolution they all stand together without a single “rift.”

And as through the war, the crisis and the revolution, all social and political questions have come to be connected in practice with the question of the revolution, these classes in Western Europe stand together in all questions, and in opposition to the proletariat.

In a word, the trust, the monopoly, the big banks, imperialism, the war, the revolution, have in practice riveted together into one class all the West-European big and petty bourgeois and peasant parties against the workers.[23]

Theoretically and practically, therefore, this is an established fact. In the revolution in Western Europe and especially in England and Germany, there are no “rifts” of any considerable importance between these classes.

Here again I must add something personal. On pages 40 and 41 you criticise the Amsterdam Bureau. You cite a thesis of the bureau. Parenthetically, what you say with regard to this is wrong – all of it. But you also say that the Amsterdam Commission, before condemning parliamentarism, ought to have given an analysis of the class relations and the political parties, to justify this condemnation. Excuse me, Comrade, this was not the task of the Commission. For that on which their thesis is based, to wit that all bourgeois parties in Parliament as well as more outside, had been all along, and were even now, opposed to the workers, and did not show the slightest “rift,” all this had been ascertained long ago, and was an established fact for all Marxists. In Western Europe at any rate, there was no need for us to analyse that.

On the contrary, considering you strive for compromise and alliances in Parliament, which would lead us into opportunism, it was your duty to demonstrate that there are any rifts of importance between the bourgeois parties.

You wish to lead us, here in Western Europe, into compromising. What Troelstra, Henderson, Scheidemann, Turati, etc., could not accomplish in the time of evolution, you wish to do during the revolution. It is for you to prove that this can be done.

Opposing Capitalist Forces Unite to Defeat Revolution.

And this not by means of Russian examples; these are easy enough, to be sure, but with West-European examples. This duty you have fulfilled in the most miserable way. No wonder you took almost exclusively your Russian experience, that of a very backward country, not that of the Western Europe of these modern days.

In the entire booklet, in the parts which deal with these very questions of tactics, the Russian examples excepted, to which I will soon proceed, I find but two examples from Western Europe, the Kapp putsch in Germany, and the Lloyd George-Churchill government in England, with the opposition of Asquith.

Very few examples indeed, and of the poorest quality, that there are “rifts” between the bourgeois, and in this case also the social democratic parties!

If ever a proof was needed that between the bourgeois (and in this case also the social democratic parties), there are no important rifts as regards the workers, in the revolution, and here in Western Europe; the Kapp putsch furnishes that proof. The Kappites did not punish, kill and imprison the democrats, the Zentrum people, and the social democrats. And when these came into power again, they did not punish, kill and imprison the Kappites. But both parties killed the Communists!

Communism was too weak as yet. That is why they did not TOGETHER forge a dictatorship. Next time, when Communism will be stronger, they will organise a dictatorship BETWEEN THEM.

It was and is your duty, Comrade, to point out in what way the Communists could at that time have taken advantage in Parliament of that rift – in such a way, of course, as to benefit the workers. It was and is your duty to tell us what the Communist Members of Parliament ought to have said to make the workers see this rift, and take advantage of it – in such a way, of course, as not to strengthen the bourgeois parties. You cannot do this, because during the revolution there is no rift of any importance. And it is of the time of the revolution that we speak. And it was your duty to point out that if in special cases there should be such rifts, it would be more advantageous to direct the attention of the workers in that direction than to the general tendency towards unity.

And it was and is your duty, Comrade, before beginning to lead us in Western Europe, to show where those rifts are, in England, in Germany, in Western Europe.

This you cannot do either. You speak of a rift between Churchill, Lloyd George, and Asquith, of which the workers are to take advantage. This is altogether pitiful. I will not even discuss this with you. For everyone knows that since in England the industrial proletariat has some power, these rifts have been artificially made by the bourgeois parties and leaders and are yet being made, to mislead the workers, to entice them from the one side to the other, and back again ad infinitum, thus to keep them for ever powerless and dependent. To this end they even at times admit two opponents to the one government, Lloyd George and Churchill. And Comrade Lenin lets himself be caught in this trap, that is well nigh a century old! He strives to induce the British workers to base their politics on this fraud! At the time of the revolution, the Churchills, Lloyd George, and the Asquiths will unite against the revolution, and then you, Comrade, will have betrayed and weakened the English proletariat with an illusion. It was your duty to point out not by means of general, fine and brilliant figures of speech (as in the entire last chapter, on page 72 for instance), but accurately, concretely, by means of clear examples and facts, what those conflicts and differences are – not the Russian ones, nor those that are of no importance, or artificially made, but by means of the actual, important, West-European examples. This you do nowhere in your brochure. And as long as you do not give these, we do not believe you. When you give them we will answer you – until then we say: it is nothing but illusions that mislead the workers, and lead them into false tactics. The truth is, Comrade, that you wrongly assume the West-European and the Russian revolutions to be alike. And for what reason? Because you forget that in the modern, that is to say the West-European and North American States, there is a power that stands above the various kinds of capitalists – the landowners, industrial magnates, and merchants banking capital. This power, which is identical with imperialism, unites all capitalists, including the small peasants and bourgeois.

One thing, however, remains to you. You say there are rifts between Labour parties and the bourgeois parties, and that these can be made use of. That is right.

We might aver, to be sure, that these differences between the social democrats and bourgeois in the war and in the revolution have been very slight and have disappeared in most cases! But they might be there. And they may arise yet. Of those we must therefore speak. Especially as you put it, the “pure” English Labour government, Thomas, Henderson, Clynes, etc., in England, against Sylvia Pankhurst, and the possibly “pure” socialist government of Ebert, Scheidemann, Noske, Hilferding, Crispien, Cohn, against the KAPD.[24]

You say that your tactics, which direct the workers’ attention towards these Labour governments, encouraged them to promote their formation, are clear and effective; whilst ours, which are opposed to their formation, are harmful.

No, Comrade, our attitude with regard to these cases of “pure” Labour government where the rift between these parties of workers and those of the bourgeoisie became a split, is again quite clear, and profitable, to the revolution.

It is possible that we shall allow such a government to exist. It can be necessary, it can mean progress for the movement. If this is so, we cannot proceed any further yet, we will let it exist, criticising them as keenly as possible, and replace them by a Communist government as soon as we can. But to promote its arrival in Parliament and in elections, this will not do in Western Europe.

And we will not do this, because in Western Europe and in the revolution the workers stand all alone. For that reason everything – do you understand this? – everything HERE depends on their will for action, on their clearness of brain. And because of these, your tactics of compromising with the Scheidemanns and Hendersons, with the Crispiens and their followers among the English Independents, of the opportunist Communists of the Spartacus League or the BSP – because these tactics inside and outside Parliament confuse heads, here in Western Europe and in the revolution – making the workers elect someone whom they know beforehand to be an impostor, and because our tactics on the other hand make them clear-sighted, by showing them the enemy as enemy, because of all this and, even at the risk of losing a representative in Parliament in periods of illegality, or of missing the benefit, of a “rift” (in Parliament!), we in Western Europe, and under the present conditions, choose our tactics and reject yours.

Here again your advice leads to confusion, and awakens illusions.

But what about the members of the social democratic parties, the German Independents, the Labour Party, and the Independent Party? Must not those be won?

These, the working class and petty-bourgeois elements among them, will be won by us, the Left Wing, in Western Europe, through our propaganda, our meetings and our press, and especially through our example, our slogans, our action on the shop floor. In the revolution, those who are not won thus, through our action, through the revolution, are lost anyway, and can go to the devil. These social-democratic, Independent Labour Parties in England and Germany consist of workers and petty-bourgeois elements. The first, the workers, can all be won in the long run. The petty-bourgeois elements only to a very slight extent, and are of little economic importance; these few will be won over by our propaganda, etc.. The majority of them – and it is on these that Noske and his conjurers rely above all – belong to capitalism, and, in proportion to the revolution’s advance, they rally all the closer around it.

Workshop, not Parliament, the Battle-ground.

But does the fact that we do not support them at the elections imply that we are cut off from the Labour Parties, the independents, the social democrats, the Labour Party, etc.? On the contrary, we seek alliance with them as much as we can. On every occasion we summon them for common action: for the strike, the boycott, for revolt, street fights, and especially for the workers’ councils, the industrial councils. We seek them everywhere. Only not in parliament, as we used to do. This, in Western Europe, belongs to a past epoch. But in the workshop, in the union and in the street – that is where we find them. That is where we win them. This is the new practice, succeeding social democratic practice. It is the Communist practice.

You, Comrade, wish to bring the social democrats, the Independents, etc., into Parliament in order to show that they are deceivers. You wish to use Parliament to show that it is of no use.

You seek to slyly deceive the workers. You put the rope round their neck and let them hang. We help them to avoid the rope. We do this because here we are able to do so. You follow the tactics of the peasant races; we those of the industrial races. This is no scorn, and no mockery. I believe that with you it was the right way. Only you should not – either in this small matter, or in the great question of parliamentarism – force on us what was good in Russia but leads to destruction here.

Finally I have only one remark to make: you say, and you have often upheld it, that in Western Europe the revolution can only begin AFTER these lower classes adjacent to the proletariat have been sufficiently shaken, neutralised or won over. As I have demonstrated that they cannot be shaken, neutralised or won at the beginning of the revolution, this latter, if your statement was correct, would be impossible. This has been told to me over and over again, from your side, and also by Comrade Zinoviev. Fortunately, however, here also your observation in the most important of questions which determine the revolution, is false. And it again proves that you see all things exclusively from the East-European point of view. I will make this clear in the last chapter.

I herewith believe to have proved that your second argument for parliamentarism is for the most part an opportunistic fraud, and that in this respect parliamentarism must now be replaced by another method of fighting, one that lacks its drawbacks and possesses greater advantages.

I recognise that in this one point your tactics can have some advantages. The Labour Government can produce some good, greater clarity. And in illegal times your tactics can be profitable. We recognise that. But just as once we needed to say to the revolutionists and reformists: we prize the development of self-consciousness in the workers above everything, even above small advantages. We now say to you, Lenin and your “Right” comrades: we prize above all the ripening of the masses towards will and deed. Hereto all things have to be made subservient in Western Europe. We will see who is right, the “Left” or Lenin. I do not doubt one moment. We will defeat you, as we did Troelstra, Henderson, Renaudel and Legien.

This here is the place to discuss the mutual relationship between party, class and mass in Western Europe.

This matter is also of the greatest importance: as important as the power of banking capital, and the UNITY of all great and small bourgeois classes it engenders. The relation between party, class and mass in Western Europe differs widely from that of Russia, and like the unity of the bourgeois classes it is due to the power of banking capital.

Our tactics must be directed toward and based on a true understanding of that relationship. Whoever does not understand this relationship, cannot understand the, tactics for Western Europe.

Let us again take Germany as an example. Not only because, with England, it is industrially the most highly developed country, but also because it offers the most developed statistics.

As we have often observed already, it has a proletariat of about twenty million actual workers: about fourteen million industrial and some six million agricultural. What does this mean? That, counting children, non-workers and the aged, this proletariat comprises at least half – and probably more – of the total population of Germany.

We have seen, however, that in the revolution the proletariat stands alone, and that the opponents of the proletariat, of the revolution, by virtue of their arms and their organisation, even to this day are so powerful that they can only be conquered by means of the unity of the entire proletariat. And because of banking capital their power is such that unity alone does not suffice: that a conscious, determined unity, a truly Communist unity is needed.

Two facts therefore are certain: the proletariat is very numerous, it comprises more than half the population; and the opposition, in spite of this, is so powerful that the unity of the proletariat, real Communist unity is necessary.

Only thus can Capitalism be overthrown, and can the revolution conquer.

What follows from these two facts?

Firstly, that the dictatorship of a Party, of a Communist Party, cannot exist here in Germany, as it did in Russia, where a few thousand dominated the proletariat. Here, in order to conquer capital, the dictatorship must be exercised by the class itself, the entire class.[25]

It is not, we insistently repeat, for any radical romantic, aesthetic, heroic or intellectual reason, but for the most simple and concrete fact-one moreover that is only too much felt by the German proletariat: that highly organised German monopoly banking capital is so powerful, and unites the entire bourgeoisie.

The same cause that unites the entire bourgeoisie makes it necessary that the entire class should exercise its dictatorship.

A United Proletariat Necessary.

From the above mentioned causes there follows secondly: that at the beginning and during the course of the revolution the masses are divide into two hostile camps. By masses we mean the proletariat and the other working class combined.

These latter (petty-bourgeois, peasants, intellectuals, etc.) in the beginning and during the course of the revolution are hostile to the greater part of the proletariat. Between the proletariat on the one side and the rest of the masses on the other, there is an antithesis. Class and mass in Western Europe are not one, nor can they become so at the start, and in the first stages of the revolution.

Finally from the numerical relations of the proletariat towards the other classes, and from the fact that the proletariat must be united in order to win, there follows, as I have shown above, that the relative importance of the class, as opposed to the power of leaders, must be very great; that the power of the leaders, with regard to that of the class, must be small, and likewise that in all likelihood in Germany power cannot come into the hands of some few leaders.

If we consider the character of German industry, its concentration in great numbers of centres, this goes without saying. How great, how numerous the leadership will be, cannot as yet be ascertained, it can only be stated that it will be extended over a great number of persons.

And thus, after Germany, it is in the first place in England – and, though to a lesser degree, all over Western Europe.

And this fact that the entire class must exercise its dictatorship, how does it affect the Communist Party?

From this fact follows that the task of the Communist Party in Western Europe consists almost exclusively of preparing the class and making it conscious for the revolution and the dictatorship.

In all its actions and all its tactics the Party must always bear in mind that the revolution must be made, and the dictatorship exercised not by the Party alone, but by the class.

The task can only be fulfilled if the Communist Party consists of politically truly conscious and convinced revolutionaries, who are ready for any deed, any sacrifice, and if all the half-baked and wavering elements are kept off by means of its programme, by action, and especially by the very tactics.

For only thus, only by preserving this purity, the Party will be able to make the class truly revolutionary and Communist, through its propaganda, its slogans, and by taking the lead in all actions. The Party can take the lead only by being always absolutely pure itself.

How large the Communist Party will become through this action cannot be predetermined. We desire, of course, that it may be as big as possible. But the entire tactics and the entire struggle must be dominated by this principle: better a thousand members that are good, than a hundred thousand that are bad. For these latter cannot accomplish the revolution and the dictatorship of the proletariat.

It all depends on the purity and the firmness of the Communist Party, how far its power will reach; and how much it will influence the masses. Also the quality of the leaders depends to some degree on its tactics.

In other words, Comrade Lenin, we must never follow the tactics you followed in 1902 and 1903, when you formed the Party that has made the revolution.

Menshevist Tactics would Ruin Proletariat.

All the social democrats of Russia at that time were of the opinion that a proletarian organisation ought to be created, and they agreed that this organisation was to be obtained by means of a blind imitation of German social democracy; all this has finally crystallised into the Menshevist Party. The later Menshevists dreamed of building a big Labour Party, in which the masses would be able to find the road to their action. Such a party would have to accept all those who adopted its programme, it would have to be democratically conducted, and would find its revolutionary way by means of free criticism, and free discussion. It was against this alluring image, Comrade Lenin, that you directed all the blows of your criticism, and not only because such a party was impossible under Czarism, and an illusion, but mainly because “behind this illusion, there lurked the immense danger of opportunism.”

The tactics of the Menshevists would mean that the most wavering and hesitating elements would obtain a decisive influence on the party of the proletariat. This you wished to prevent, and that is why you took care that the programme (in the well known first article), and the tactics also, should always be such that this was impossible.[26]

As you did then, we of the Left Wing wish to do now in the Third International. Through our very programme and tactics we wish to chase away all vacillating and opportunist elements; we only wish to accept the truly Communist, truly revolutionary ones, we wish to carry out truly communist action. And all this exclusively with a view to inspiring the entire class with communist spirit, and of preparing it for the revolution and the dictatorship.

This latter, the preparation, is of course a process – a process of interaction. Every action, every partial revolution advances the class, brings it nearer to the party, and the stronger class means greater strength for each new struggle, and also for the party. Thus party, a class come into ever closer contact, and finally they grow into one whole.

This, therefore, is our purpose: the Party, small or large, does everything in its power to further the ripening of the class for revolution and dictatorship, as this class stands alone in the revolution, without the help of the peasants.

However, there is yet another means to obtain this. Besides the political party we have as our weapon the Arbeiter-Union, based on the industrial organisation. What the party is for political action, the Union is for economic action.

And just as the numerical and class relations for Germany and Western Europe, which I have quoted, clearly demonstrate that the party cannot exercise the dictatorship, so these figures, these class relations, this unity of all bourgeois classes against the revolution, this inevitable unity of the proletariat against them, and this necessity of the entire class exercising the dictatorship, and becoming for the most part communist, demonstrate the iron necessity that no Trade Union, nor Arbeiter-Union or Industrial League, nor IWU or Shop Stewards’ Movement can ever presume to exercise the dictatorship.

They, both of them, party as well as Arbeiter-Union, each in its own sphere, and with every possible mutual support, must do all they can to prepare the class. For the time being, Party and Union are separate as yet. For, like all Trade Unions, the Union also has to fight for small improvements, and is therefore constantly exposed to opportunist and reformist influences. Only a truly communist party can subordinate everything to the revolution.

From the necessity of this development in Western Europe (which has sprung up through the power of banking capital), it is also clearly evident that those who already now in the beginning and course of the revolution wish to place the Arbeiter-Union, the Industrial Union, the industrial organisation, above the Party, or who even wish to abolish the latter, are wrong.

Gradually, as the Party grows stronger, as the Union grows, as the class becomes more and more communist, as the revolution approaches its goal, class, party and Arbeiter-Union or Industrial Union closely approach one another. In the end the Party, the Union and the class are all equivalent, and are blended into one whole.

Finally, of course, the power and the unity of all bourgeois classes, and the necessary unity of the entire proletariat, make strong centralisation and strict discipline, in the Party as well as in the Union, absolutely necessary.

It is the task of the German and English, the West-European and American proletariat to combine centralisation and discipline with the strictest control of, with power over, the leadership.

For only thus can the West-European and American proletariat conquer, through the blending of centralisation in the leadership, and the control of the membership.

It need hardly be explained here that also after the revolution the dictatorship of the entire class, and the communist spirit of the whole proletariat in Western Europe and America are absolutely necessary. For here the counterrevolution is so powerful, that if these two conditions were not fulfilled – if, for instance, a new class of rulers sprung up, out of the intellectuals and the bureaucracy – the revolution would soon perish. Now already the tactics must be on the lookout to prevent this.

How different from Russia all this is!

How different from Russia where, as a result of the economic conditions, as a result of class relations – and rightly, therefore – a handful of people rule the Party, where an infinitesimally small party rules the class, and a minutely small class the entire nation; where no Arbeiter-Union is needed, where the class, and the great majority of the remaining working masses, the small peasants, were one with the revolution!

Whoever fails to understand from the productive and class relations of Western Europe what the relations between the leaders, the party, the class and the masses are, does not understand a thing of the revolution in Western Europe, nor of its necessary stipulations. Whoever wishes to conduct the west-European revolution according to the tactics and by the road of the Russian revolution, is not qualified to lead it.

The Left Wing Tactics.

From these West-European, and to some extent also from the American and Anglo-Colonial relations, it is therefore perfectly obvious that there is only one kind of tactics that in Western Europe (and North America) can lead to victory, and these are the tactics of the Left Wing, in the name of which I speak. For these claim that the leaders shall have relatively little power in relation to the class, and the class shall have relatively far greater power. They say that for the time being the class and the rest of the masses cannot be one. They claim that the entire class shall become truly communist, through truly communist propaganda, that therefore party and class shall become one. These, in order to obtain that end, wish to destroy the bourgeois Trade Unions, and replace them by communist industrial organisations, thus making those organisations, substitutes for the Trade Unions, the greatest of class organisations (in Germany they number ten million proletarians already), equal to the class. They are against parliamentarism, thus making every worker, and consequently the entire proletariat, independently revolutionary, which is to say communist.

They, the Left party, act in perfect accordance therefore with class relations as they really are in Western Europe, and are entirely in the right against the Executive Committee, the Congress of the Third International, and you, Comrade Lenin.

Only quite recently you said to a British delegation that in England a quite small Communist Party would be able to accomplish the revolution. Here, again, you speak as a Russian, and judge things be the Russian example. And it is on such mistaken notions that the tactics of the Executive and of the International are based!.[27]

Those however who think, and say, and propagate these views, do not understand class relations in Western Europe and North America.[28]

To these observations I need only add that where I speak of the unity of party and class, that is attained at last, and of the possibility of the entire proletariat in Western Europe and America becoming communist, I mean unity as big as possible, and a large part of the proletariat. I represent total unity and the entire proletariat as the Ideal, as the goal towards which we must tend, as the aim of our tactics. In all probability it will be impossible and unnecessary to completely achieve it. But the unity of party and class, and the portion of the proletariat that has to become communist, are so immeasurably greater here than in Russia, that this ideal in the tactics must be brought to the fore.[29]

Lenin’s Third Argument.

Next I come to your third argument: the Russian examples. You mention them repeatedly (on pp. 6-9 they occur several times). I have read them with the greatest attention, and, as I admired them before, I do now. I have been on your side ever since 1903. Also when I did not know your motives as yet – the connections being cut off – as at the time of the Brest-Litovsk peace, I defended you with your own motives. Your tactics were certainly brilliant for Russia, and it is owing to these tactics that the Russians have triumphed. But what does this prove for Western Europe? Nothing, according to my idea, or very little. The Soviets, the dictatorship of the proletariat, the methods for the revolution and for reconstruction, all this we accept. Also your international tactics have been – so far at least – exemplary. But for your tactics for the countries of Western Europe it is different. And this is only natural.

How could the tactics in the East and West of Europe possibly be the same? Russia, a chiefly agricultural country, but with an industrial capitalism that was only partially highly developed, and very small compared to the land. And, moreover, fed to a large extent by foreign capital! In Western Europe, and especially in England and Germany, it is just the opposite. With you: still all the old-fashioned forms of capital, from usury capital upwards. With us: almost exclusively a highly developed banking capital.

With you: immense remains of feudal and pre-feudal times, and even from the time of the tribe, of barbarism. With us, and especially in England and Germany: all things, agriculture, commerce, transport, industry, under the domination of the most developed capitalism. With you: immense remains of serfdom, the poor peasants, and in the country a declining middle class. With us: even the poor peasants in connection with modern production, transport, technique and exchange. And in the city as well as in the country the middle class, including the lower layers, in direct contact with the big capitalists.

You still have classes with which the rising proletariat can unite. The very existence of these classes helps. The same applies of course to the political parties. And with us, nothing of all this.

Of course, compromising in all directions, as you so captivatingly describe it, even making use of the rifts between the Liberals and the landowners, was alright for you. With us it is impossible. Consequently the difference in tactics between the East and the West. Our tactics fit our conditions. They are just as good as yours were under Russian conditions.

I find your Russian examples especially on pages 12, 13, 26, 27, 37, 40, 51 and 52. But no matter what these examples may mean for the Russian trade union question (p 27), for Western Europe they mean nothing at all, as here the proletariat needs far stronger weapons. As far as parliamentarism is concerned, your examples have been taken from a period when the revolution had not broken out (pp. 16, 26, 41 and 51 for instance), and these, therefore, either do not apply to the point in question, or, in so far as you could use the parties of the poor peasants and petty-bourgeoisie, they are so different from conditions here (pp. 12, 37, 40, 41 and 51), as to mean nothing to us.[30]

It seems to me, Comrade, that your utterly wrong judgment, the utterly mistaken conception of your book, and no less the tactics of the Executive in Moscow, are to be attributed exclusively to the fact that you do not know enough about relations over here, or rather that you fail to draw the right conclusions from what you know, that you judge things too much from the Russian point of view.

This means, however – and it should be emphasised here once again, as the fate of the West-European proletariat, the world proletariat, the world revolution depends on this – that neither you, nor the Moscow Executive are able to direct the West-European and consequently the World Revolution, as long as you adhere to these tactics.

You ask: is it possible that you, who wish to reform the world, cannot even form a fraction in parliament?

Labour Movement in False Grooves.

We answer: this book of yours is a proof in itself that whoever tries to do the latter is bound to lead the Labour movement into false grooves, into ruin.

The book deludes the workers of Western Europe by means of illusions, of the impossible; compromise with the bourgeois parties in the revolution.

It makes them believe in something that does not exist: the possibility of the bourgeois parties being divided in Western Europe, in the revolution. It makes them believe that here a compromise with the social patriots and the wavering elements in parliament can lead to any good, whereas it brings hardly anything but calamity.

Your book leads the West-European proletariat back into the morass, from which at the cost of the greatest efforts it has not yet escaped, but is beginning to escape.

It leads us back into the morass, in which men like Scheidemann, Clynes, Renaudel, Kautsky, MacDonald, Longuet, Vandervelde, Branting and Troelstra have landed us. (It must inevitably fill all these with great joy, and bourgeois parties likewise, if they understand it). This book is to the communist revolutionary proletariat what Bernstein’s book has been for the pre-revolutionary proletariat. It is the first book of yours that is no good. For Western Europe, it is the worst book imaginable.

We, comrades of the Left Wing, must stand close together, must start everything from below upward, and must criticise as keenly as possible all those that in the Third International do not go the right way.[31]

Thus the conclusion to be drawn from all these arguments about parliamentarism, is as follows: your three arguments for parliamentarism either mean very little, or are wrong. And, as in the Trade Union question, your tactics also on this point are disastrous for the proletariat. And with these mistaken or insignificant motives you hide the fact that you are bringing hundreds of thousands of opportunists into the Third International.

IV. Opportunism in the Third International

The question of opportunism in our own ranks is of such immense weight that I must deal with it more at length.

Comrade! With the establishment of the Third International, opportunism has not died in our ranks either. We see it in all Communist parties in all countries. Also it would be truly miraculous and against all the laws of development if that which killed the Second International did not live in the Third.

On the contrary, just as the fight between anarchism and social democracy was fought in the Second International, that between opportunism and revolutionary Marxism will be fought in the Third.

This time again Communists will go into parliament to become leaders. Trade Unions and Labour parties will be supported for the sake of votes in the elections. Instead of parties being founded for Communism, Communism will be used to found parties. But parliamentary compromises with social patriots and bourgeois elements will once more come into use, as after all the revolution in Western Europe is going to be a slow process. Freedom of speech will be suppressed, and all good Communists expelled. In a word, all the practice of the Second International will come to life again.

The Left Wing must oppose this; it has to be there, to wage this fight, as it was there in the Second International. Herein the Left Wing must be supported by all Marxists and revolutionaries, even if they are of the opinion that the Left Wing is mistaken in detail – for opportunism is our greatest enemy. Not only, as you say (p. 13) outside, but also within our ranks.

It would be a thousand times worse, that opportunism, with its devastating effect on the soul and the strength of the proletariat, should again slip in, than that the Left Wing should be too radical. The Left Wing, even though at times it goes too far, always remains revolutionary. The Left Wing will alter its tactics as soon as they are not right. The opportunist Right will grow ever more opportunist, will sink ever further into the morass, will corrupt the workers to an ever greater extent. Not in vain have we learned from twenty-five years of struggle.

Opportunism is the plague of the Labour movement, the death of the revolution. Opportunism has brought about all evils; reformism, the war, the defeat and the death of the revolution in Hungary and Germany. Opportunism is the cause of disaster. And it exists in the Third International.

What do I need so many words for? Look around you, Comrade. Look into yourself, and into the Executive Committee! Look into all countries of Europe.

Feeble Criticism.

Read the papers of the British Socialist Party, now the Communist Party. Read ten, twenty numbers of this paper; read the feeble criticism against the Trade Unions, the Labour Party, the Members of Parliament, and compare this to the paper of the Left Wing. A comparison between these two will show you that opportunism is approaching the Third International, in immense masses. Once more (through support of the counter-revolutionary workers) to obtain power in Parliament. A power after the pattern of the Second International. Remember too that soon the USP will enter the Third International, and numerous other Centre parties besides! Do you not believe that if you compel these parties to expel Kautsky that a swarm of tens of thousands of other opportunists will come? The entire measure of this expulsion is childish. An innumerable stream of opportunists is approaching[32] – especially since your brochure.

Look at the Dutch Communist Party, once called the Bolshevists of Europe. And rightly so, taking into account the conditions. Read the brochure about the Dutch Party, how utterly already it has been corrupted by the opportunism of the Second International. During the war, and after it, and even to this day, it has pledged itself to the Entente. This once brilliant party has become an example of equivocality and deceit.

But look at Germany, Comrade, the land where the revolution has started. There opportunism lives and thrives. We were utterly amazed to hear that you defended the attitude of the KPD during the March days. But fortunately we learned from your brochure that you did not know the actual course of development. You sanctioned the attitude of the KPD-Zentrale, that offered loyal opposition to Ebert, Scheidemann, Hilferding and Crispien, but you evidently did not know, at the time of writing the brochure, that this happened at the same moment Ebert organised troops against the German proletariat, whose general strike was still spread all over Germany, and in which the great majority of the Communist mass strove to bring the revolution, if not to victory (perhaps this was hardly possible as yet), at any rate to a higher strength. Whilst the mass by means of strikes and armed revolt, conducted the revolution into a further stage (there has never been anything more hopeful or gigantic than the revolt in the Ruhr region, and the general strike), the leaders offered parliamentary compromises. In so doing they supported Ebert against the revolution in the Ruhr region.[33] If ever an example proved how damnable the use of parliamentarism is in the revolution, this is it. You see, Comrade, that is parliamentary opportunism, that is compromise with the social patriots and the Independents, which we refuse to accept, and which you try to further.

And, Comrade, what has already become of the industrial councils in Germany? You and the Executive of the Third International had advised the Communists to unite with all the other trends, in order to obtain the leadership of the Trade Unions. And what has happened? The opposite. The industrial Zentrale has well-nigh developed into an instrument of the Trade Unions. The Trade Unions are an octopus, strangling everything living that comes within its reach.

Comrade, if you read and investigate everything that is being done in Germany, in Western Europe, I have full confidence that you will come over to our side. Just as I believe that your experiences in the Third International will convert you to our tactics.

However, if opportunism proceeds thus in Germany, how will it be in France and England!

You see, Comrade, these are the leaders we do not want. That is the unity of mass and leader that we do not want. And that is the iron discipline, the military obedience, submission and servility that we do not want.

Permit us to add here one word to the Executive Committee, and especially to Radek: the Executive Committee has had the insolence to demand of the KAPD that they should expel Wolffheim and Laufenberg, instead of leaving them to settle this for themselves. It has threatened the KAPD, and has pandered to the central parties, such as the USP. But it did not demand of the Italian Party that it should expel the Zentrale which, through its offer, was partly responsible for the murder of Communists in the Ruhr region. It did not demand of the Dutch Party that it should expel Wijnkoop and Van Ravesteyn, who during the war, offered Dutch ships to the Entente. This does not mean to say that I myself wish those comrades to be expelled. On the contrary, I hold them to be good comrades, who have gone wrong only because the development, the beginning of the West-European revolution, is so terribly difficult. We, all of us over here, still make many big mistakes. Moreover, expulsion at present, from this International, would be of no avail.

I only point this out to demonstrate by another example how fiercely opportunism is raging already in our own ranks. For the Moscow Central Committee has committed this injustice against the KAPD only, because for its opportunist world tactics it did not want the really revolutionary elements, but the opportunist Independents, etc.. It has deliberately used the tactics of Wolffheim and Laufenberg against the KAPD for the most miserably opportunist of reasons, although it knew that the KAPD did NOT agree with those tactics. Because it wants to have masses around it, like the Trade Unions and the political parties, no matter whether those masses are communist or not.

Two other actions of the Third International prove clearly where it is drifting. The first is the expulsion of the Amsterdam Bureau, the ONLY group of revolutionary Marxists and theoreticians in Western Europe, that has never wavered. The second section, which is almost more serious, is the treatment of the KAPD, the ONLY party in Western Europe which, as an organisation, as a whole, from its very origin onwards, has conducted the revolution as it should be conducted. Whilst the Centre parties, the Independents, the French and English Centre, who always betrayed the revolution, were allured by all possible means, the KAPD, the real revolutionaries, were treated as enemies. These are bad signs, Comrade.

In a word: the Second International is still alive, or alive again, in our midst. And opportunism leads to ruin. And because this is so, and because opportunism is very strong amongst us, far stronger than I could ever have imagined, the Left Wing has to be there. Even if there should be no other good reasons for its existence, it would have to be there as an opposition, to counterbalance opportunism.

Alas, Comrade, if only you had followed the tactics of the Left Wing in the Third International; those tactics, that are nothing but the “pure” tactics of the Bolshevists in Russia, adapted to West-European (and North American) conditions!

If only, as stipulations and statutes for the Third International, you had proposed and carried through economic organisation in industrial organisations and workers’ unions (into which, if need be, industrial unions on a shop floor basis might have been introduced), and political organisation in parties which reject parliamentarism!

Then you would in the first place have had, in all countries, absolutely firm kernels, parties that could really carry out the revolution, parties that would gradually have gathered the masses around them, through their own example, in their own country, and not through pressure from outside. Then you would have had economic organisations that would have annihilated the counter-revolutionary Trade Unions (syndicalist as well as free). And then with ONE stroke you would have cut off the way for all opportunists. For these can thrive only where there is plotting with the counter-revolution.

Then, likewise – and this is by far the most important point – you would have educated the workers into independent fighters to a very high degree, as far as it is possible in the present stage.

If you, Lenin, and you, Bukharin and Radek, had done this, had chosen these tactics, with your authority and experience, your strength and genius, and if you had helped us to eradicate the faults that cling to us as yet, and to our tactics, then we would have achieved a Third International that was perfectly firm internally, and unshakable externally, an International which would gradually have gathered the entire proletariat around it, through the force of its example, and which would have built Communism.

It is true that there are no tactics without defeat. But these would have suffered least defeat, and would most easily have recovered from it; they would have gone the quickest way, and would have won the quickest and surest victory. Yours lead to repeated defeat for the proletariat.

However, you have rejected this because, instead of conscious, steadfast fighters, you wanted partly or totally unconscious masses.

V. Conclusion

Finally I have to make a few observations regarding your last chapter: “Conclusions,” perhaps the most important of your entire book. Again I was delighted with it, as long as I thought of the Russian revolution. But over and over again the thought came into my head: the tactics that are brilliant for Russia are bad here. They lead to defeat here.

You assert here, comrade (pp. 68-74), that in a certain stage of development the masses must be attracted, millions and millions of them. The propaganda for “pure” Communism, that collected the avant-garde, and educated it, suffices no longer in that stage. Now is the time, and next follow once again your opportunist methods that I have already refuted: taking advantage of “rifts,” of petty-bourgeois elements, etc.

Comrade, this chapter is also completely wrong.

You judge as a Russian, not as an international Communist who knows real West-European capitalism.

Almost every word of this chapter, wonderful though it may be for the knowledge of your revolution, is wrong for big industrial capitalism, for the trusts and monopoly capitalism.

I will demonstrate this here: first in small matters.

Still Need for Propaganda.

You write about Communism in Western Europe.

“The vanguard of the West-European proletariat has been won” (p. 70). This is wrong, Comrade. “The period of propaganda is past” (p. 69). This is not true. “The proletarian vanguard has been won over ideologically.” This is not so, Comrade. This stands in line (and it proceeds from the same mentality) with what I read in Bukharin, not long ago: “English capitalism is bankrupt.” I also read in Radek similar fantasies, that were closer to astrology than astronomy. Nothing of this is true. Except for Germany, there is no vanguard anywhere yet. Neither in England, nor France, nor Belgium, nor Holland, nor, if I am well informed, in most of the Scandinavian countries. There are only a few “Eclaireurs,” who do not agree yet about the course that must be followed.[34] “The period of propaganda is past” is a terrible lie.

No, Comrade, this period is just beginning in Western Europe. There is no firm kernel anywhere as yet.

What we need here is such a kernel, hard as steel, clear as glass. And this is where we should begin herewith to build up a big organisation. In this respect we are here in the stage you were in 1903, or even before, in the Iskra period. Comrade, conditions here are far riper than we are, but that is no reason why we should let ourselves be carried away, to begin without a kernel!

For the time being we of Western Europe, the Communist parties in England, France, Belgium, Holland, Scandinavia, Italy, even the KAPD in Germany, must remain small, not because we want to, but because otherwise we cannot become strong.

An example: Belgium. Except for Hungary, before the revolution, there is no country where the proletariat is as corrupted by reformism as Belgium. If at this moment Communism should become a mass movement there (with parliamentarism, etc.), the vultures, the profiteers etc. of opportunism would swoop down on it immediately and drag it to destruction. And it is the same everywhere.

For that reason, because the Labour movement here is very weak as yet, and almost completely trapped in opportunism, because so far Communism is hardly anything, and must fight (on the questions of parliamentarism and the Trade Unions and on all others) until we attain the highest lucidity and clarity, until everything has been made theoretically as clear as possible.

A sect, therefore, says the Executive Committee. Certainly a sect, if that is what you want to call the kernel of a movement that conquers the world.

Comrade, there was a time when your movement, the Bolsheviks, was also small and insignificant. It was because it was small, and voluntarily remained so for a long time that it kept itself pure. And through this, and this exclusively it became powerful. We also want to proceed in this way.

This is a question of the utmost importance. Not only the West-European, but also the Russian revolution depends on this. Beware, Comrade! You know that Napoleon in trying to spread modern capitalism all over Europe was finally wrecked and had to make way for reaction, when he had arrived; where there was not only too much of the middle ages, but especially too little capitalism.

These, your minor assertions, are not true. I will now proceed to the bigger ones, to the most important of all you say: that now the time has come without propaganda to win the millions for “pure” Communism, through the opportunist policy you describe. Comrade, even if you were right in the small matters, if the Communist Parties here were actually strong enough, this would be utterly wrong from beginning to end. Pure propaganda for the new Communism, as I have often said already, will be necessary here in Western Europe, from the beginning of the revolution to the very end. Because (this point is of such importance that it has to be constantly repeated) it is the workers, the workers alone, who must bring Communism. Of the other classes they have nothing to expect, in any considerable measure, until the revolution is finished.

You say (p. 72): that period of the revolution has started in which we have the vanguard, and in which:

1. all class powers that are against us have become sufficiently disarranged, have fought sufficiently amongst themselves, have been sufficiently weakened by the struggle that surpasses their strength;

2. all vacillating, undecided elements, the petty-bourgeoisie, petty-bourgeois democracy, have been sufficiently unmasked before the people, have exposed themselves sufficiently through their bankruptcy.

Well, Comrade, this is Russian. In the Russian government body, which was rotten through and through, these were the conditions for the revolution.

In the modern, really big-capitalist states, however, the conditions will be altogether different. The big bourgeois parties will stand together in opposition to Communism, will not get disarranged, and the petty-bourgeoisie will stand by them. Not in an absolute sense, of course, but to such an extent that it has to determine our tactics.

Character of Western European Revolution.

In Western Europe we must expect a revolution that is a tenacious struggle on either side, with a firm organisation on the part of the bourgeoisie and the petty-bourgeoisie. The immense organisations of capitalism and of the workers prove this.

These, therefore, we have to organise likewise with the very best weapons, the best form of organisation, the best and strongest methods of fighting (not with weak ones).

It is here, and not in Russia, that the real struggle between capital and labour will be fought. Because here there is real capital.

Comrade, if you think that (from a tendency for theoretical purity), I exaggerate, just look at Germany. There you have an utterly bankrupt, almost desperate State. But all classes, big and petty bourgeois alike, as well as the peasant classes, stand firmly united against Communism. Thus it will be everywhere with us.

It is true that just at the end of the development of the revolution, when the most terrible crisis breaks out, when we are quite close to victory, the unity of the bourgeois classes will perhaps disappear, and some of the petty bourgeois and peasants will come to us. But what good is that to us? We must determine our tactics for the beginning and the course of the revolution.

Because this is so, and has to be so (because of the class relations and even more the relations of production), the proletariat stands alone.

Because it stands alone, it can only triumph if it gains greatly in spiritual strength.

And as this is the only way it can triumph, propaganda for “pure” Communism is needed here until the very end (quite the contrary to Russia).

Without this propaganda, the West-European, and consequently the Russian proletariat, is lost.

And the same holds true of the Executive in Moscow.

Whilst I was writing these last few pages, the news came through that the International had adopted your tactics and those of the Executive. The West-European delegates have let themselves be dazzled by the brilliance of the Russian revolution. All right, we will take up the fight in the Third International.

We, Comrade, your old friends Pannekoek, Roland Holst, Rutgers and myself, truer than which you cannot find, on hearing of your West-European tactics, asked ourselves what could have caused them. Opinions differed greatly. The one said: the economic condition of Russia is so bad that, after all, it needs peace. For that reason, Comrade Lenin wants to gather around him as much power as possible: the Independents, Labour Party, etc., so that they may help him to obtain peace. The other said: he wishes to hasten the general European revolution. Therefore millions have to join. That is the reason for his opportunism.

I myself believe, as I have said before, that you misunderstand European conditions, the state of things.

However this may be, Comrade, and from what motives you may act, if you go on with these tactics, you will suffer the most terrible defeat, and you will lead the proletariat into the most terrible defeat.

For if you wish to save Russia, the Russian revolution, by means of these tactics, you collect non-Communist elements. You join them to us, the real Communists, whilst we do not as yet have a firm kernel! With this medley of dead Trade Unions, with a mass of half or quarter Communists, in which there is no solid kernel, you want to fight against the best organised capital in the world, with all the non-proletarian classes on its side. It goes without saying that in the battle this medley will fall apart, and the great mass will take flight.

Why German Workers must not be Defeated.

Comrade, a crushing defeat, of the German proletariat for instance, is the signal for a general attack on Russia.

If you wish to make the revolution here, with this hodgepodge of Labour Party and Independents, French Centre and the Italian Party, etc., and with these Trade Unions, the outcome cannot be otherwise. The governments will not even fear such a load of opportunists.

If however you form internally firm, radical groups, firm (though small) parties, then the government will fear these parties, as only these carry away the masses in great deeds in the revolution – as the Spartakus League has proved in the beginning – then the governments will have to release Russia, and finally, when the parties will thus, through these “pure” tactics, have grown powerful, victory will be ours. These our “Left” tactics, therefore, are the best; nay the only ones that bring salvation for us and for Russia alike.

Your tactics on the other hand are Russian. They were excellent in a country where an army of millions of poor peasants stood ready, and where there was a wavering, desperate middle class. Here they are no good.

I must finally refute your assertion and that of many of your associates, upon which I have already touched in the third chapter; that the revolution in Western Europe can only begin after the lower, democratic layers of capitalism have been sufficiently shaken, neutralised or won.

This assertion also, in one of the most weighty questions of the revolution, proves once more that you consider everything from a purely East-European point of view. And this assertion is wrong.

For the proletariat in Germany and England is so numerous, so powerful through its organisation, that it can make the revolution, its beginning and development without, and in opposition to all these classes. And even that it must make the revolution, driven by sufferings in Germany.

And it can only do so, if it follows the right tactics, if it founds its organisation on a shop floor basis, and rejects parliamentarism; if only it strengthens the workers in this way!

We of the Left Wing, therefore, choose our tactics not only for the reason mentioned above, but especially also because the West-European proletariat, and in the first place the German and English proletariat, by itself alone, if only it grows conscious and united, is so immensely strong, that it can win in this simple manner. The Russian proletariat had to take roundabout ways, being too weak by itself, and it has done so brilliantly, in a manner far surpassing all that the world proletariat has ever achieved. But the West-European proletariat can triumph by the straight, clear road.

Thus also this assertion of yours has been refuted.

There remains one argument still to be refuted, one which I have read over and over again with the “Right” Communists, which I heard from the Russian Trade Union leader, Losovski, and which is to be found also with you: “The crisis will drive the masses to Communism, even if we retain the bad Trade Unions and parliamentarism.” This is a very weak argument. For we have no idea how big the crisis is going to be. Will it be as deep in England and France as it is now in Germany? Secondly, this argument (the “mechanical argument of the Third International”), has proved how weak it is during the last six years. In Germany the misery during the last years of the war was terrible. The revolution did not break out. It was terrible in 1918 and 1919. The revolution did not triumph. The crisis in Hungary, Austria, the Balkans and Poland is terrible. The revolution did not come, or did not win, not even when the Russian armies were quite near. But in the third place the argument turns against yourself, for if the crisis should bring about the revolution in any case, the better “Left” tactics might be just as well adopted.

The examples of Germany, Hungary, Bavaria, Austria, Poland and the Balkans however, all prove that crisis and misery do not suffice. They have the most terrible economic crisis, and yet the revolution does not break out. There must be another cause yet, which brings the revolution about, and which, if it does not work, causes the delay, or the collapse of the revolution. This cause is the spirit of the masses. And it is your tactics, Comrade, which fail to sufficiently awaken the spirit of the masses in Western Europe, which does not sufficiently strengthen it, which leaves it as it was. In the course of writing I have pointed out that banking capital, the trusts, the monopolies and the West-European and North American state formed by them, and dependent on them, as they are, unite all bourgeois classes, big as well as small, into one whole against the revolution.

But this force, uniting society and the state against the revolution, goes even further. Banking capital itself organised the working class in a previous period, in the period of evolution, against the revolution: educating, uniting and organising them. And in what way? In the Trade Unions (Syndicalist as well as free), and in the social-democratic parties. By forcing them to fight only for reforms, capital turned these Trade Unions and Labour parties into counter-revolutionary forces for the maintenance of the State and society. Because of big capital, Trade Unions and Labour parties became props of capitalism. As, however, these organisations consist of workers, and of almost the majority of workers, and as the revolution cannot be made without the workers, these organisations must be destroyed before the revolution can succeed. And how are they to be destroyed? By changing their spirit. And their spirit can only be changed by making the spirit of the members independent to the utmost degree. And this can be done only by replacing the Trade unions with industrial unions and workers’ unions, and by abolishing parliamentarism in the Labour parties. And your tactics prevent this.

It is true that German, French and Italian capitalism is bankrupt. Or rather: these capitalist States are bankrupt. The capitalists themselves, their economic and political organisations, maintain themselves and their profits, dividends and new capital are still huge. Only, however, by an extension of the circulation of paper by the State. If the German, French and Italian States fall, the capitalists fall likewise.

Crisis is Nearing.

The crisis approaches with an iron necessity. If prices rise, strike waves rise as well; if they fall, the army of the unemployed increases. Misery is spreading all over Europe, and hunger is approaching. Moreover, the world is full of new fuel. The conflict, the new revolution, is drawing near. But how will it end? Capitalism is still powerful. Germany, Italy, France and Eastern Europe are not the whole world. And in Western Europe, North America and the British Dominions, for some time to come, capitalism will hold together all classes against the proletariat. The issue therefore to a very great extent depends on our tactics and on our organisation. And your tactics are wrong.

Here in Western Europe there is only one kind of tactics: those of the Left Wing, that tells the proletariat the truth, and does not blind it with illusions. Those that, even though it may take a long time, forge the only effective weapons – the industrial organisations (uniting these into one whole), and the originally small, but pure and firm kernels, the Communist parties. Those tactics, moreover, that spread these organisations over the entire proletariat.

This has to be like this, not because we of the Left Wing want it, but because the relations of production, class relations, demand it.

At the conclusion of my exposition, I will draw them up in a concise survey, so that the worker may see everything clearly for himself.

In the first place, I imagine, there follows from it a clear image of the causes of our tactics (a clear survey of the motives of our tactics), and the tactics themselves: banking capital dominates the whole world. Ideologically and materially it keeps the gigantic proletariat in the deepest slavery, and unites all bourgeois classes. Consequently the gigantic masses must rise and proceed to act for themselves. This is only possible through industrial organisations and the abolition of parliamentarism in the revolution.

Secondly, I will summarise the tactics of the Left Wing, and those of the Third International in a few phrases, so that the difference between your tactics and those of the Left Wing become clearly and absolutely obvious, and so that if your tactics lead to the greatest debacle, as they probably will, the workers will not lose courage, but might see there are other tactics.

The Third International believes that the West-European revolution will proceed together according to the laws and tactics of the Russian revolution.

The Left Wing believes that the West-European revolution will make and follow its own laws.

The Third International believes that the West-European revolution will be able to make compromises and alliances with petty-bourgeois and small peasant, and even with big bourgeois parties.

The Left Wing believes this is impossible.

The Third International believes that in Western Europe during the revolution there will be “rifts” and scissions between the bourgeois, petty-bourgeois and small peasant parties.

The Left Wing believes that the bourgeois and petty-bourgeois parties will form one united front until the end of the revolution.

The Third International underestimates the power of West-European and North American capital.

The Left Wing makes its tactics conform to this great power.

The Third International does not recognise the power of banking capital, the big capital which unites all bourgeois classes.

The Left Wing on the contrary bases its tactics on this unifying power.

As the Third International does not believe in the fact that in Western Europe the proletariat will stand alone, it neglects the mental development of this proletariat; which in every respect is still deeply entangled in bourgeois ideology; and chooses tactics which leave slavery and subjection to bourgeois ideas unmolested and intact.

Left-Winger to Free Workers’ Minds.

The Left Wing chooses its tactics in such a way that in the first place the mind of the workers is liberated.

As the Third International does not found its tactics on freeing the mind, nor on the unity of all bourgeois and petty-bourgeois parties, but on compromises and “rifts"; it leaves the old Trade Unions intact, trying to unite them with the Third International.

As the Left Wing strives above all for freeing the mind, and believes in the unity of the bourgeois parties, it realises that the Trade Unions must be destroyed, and that the proletariat needs better weapons.

The same motives induce the Third International to support parliamentarism.

The same motives also induce the Left Wing to abolish parliamentarism.

The Third International leaves the condition of slavery such as it was in the Second.

The Left Wing wishes to change it from below upward; it seizes the evil at the root.

As the Third International does not believe that in the first place the liberation of minds is needed in Western Europe, nor that all bourgeois parties will be one in the revolution, it collects masses around it, without inquiring whether they are really Communist, without determining its tactics, on the supposition that they are – as long as it gets the masses.

The Left Wing wishes in all countries to form parties consisting exclusively of Communists, and determines its tactics accordingly. Through the example of these originally small parties, the majority of the proletariat, and therefore the masses, will be brought to Communism.

To the Third International, then, the masses in Western Europe are a means.

To the Left Wing they are the aim.

Through these tactics (which were quite right in Russia), the Third International employs leader-politics.

The Left Wing, on the other hand, employs mass politics.

Through these tactics the Third International is leading not only the West-European, but also the Russian revolution, into ruin.

The Left Wing on the other hand, through its tactics, leads the world proletariat towards victory.

And, finally, I will gather my statements into a few theses, so that the workers who must strive for themselves to gain a clear insight into those tactics, may have them before their eyes in a concise, surveyable form. They have to be read, of course, in the light of the above exposition.

1. The tactics of the West-European revolution must be different from those of the Russian revolution.

2. For here the proletariat stands alone.

3. Here the proletariat must make the revolution all by itself, against all other classes.

4. The importance of the proletarian masses, therefore, is relatively greater, and that of the leaders smaller than in Russia.

5. Consequently, here the proletariat must have the very best weapons for the revolution.

6. The Trade Unions being insufficient weapons, they must be replaced or changed into industrial organisations, that are united into one league.

7. As the proletariat must make the revolution all alone, without help, it has to rise very high morally as well as spiritually. It is better therefore not to use parliamentarism in the revolution. Marx had learnt from the Paris Commune the proletariat cannot use or take over the bourgeois

State for the revolution. Thus the “Left Wing” has learnt from the Russian, German, Hungarian, from the World Revolution, that the proletariat cannot use the old Socialist parties, nor the old Trade Unions for the revolution.

With fraternal greetings,
H. GORTER.

Notes

[1]. In State and Revolution, for instance, you write (page 67): “The greatest majority of the peasantry in every capitalist country that has any peasantry at all, is oppressed by the government, and so thirsting for the latter’s overthrow, for ‘cheap’ government. The proletariat is called upon to carry this into execution ...” The trouble is, however, that the peasantry does not thirst for Communism.

[2]. The Agrarian Theses of Moscow acknowledges this.

[3]. I have no statistical data for Sweden and Spain.

[4]. In the brochure, The World Revolution, I have emphatically pointed out this difference between Russia and Western Europe. The development of the German Revolution has proved that any judgment was even too optimistic. In Italy it is possible that the poor peasants will side with the proletariat.

[5]. You, Comrade, will surely not try and win in an argument by taking the assertions of your opponent in too absolute a sense, as small minds do. My above remark, therefore, is meant for the latter.

[6]. Of course I had to take the pre-war figures, and have made the increase in proletarians after the last census (of 1909) proportionate to that before.

[7]. I do not touch here on the fact that through this other relation of numbers (20 million to 70 million in Germany!) the importance of the mass and the leaders, and the relation between mass, party and leaders, also in the course and at the close of the revolution here, will differ from those of Russia.

[8]. So far, at least.

[9]. It has struck me that in this controversy you almost invariably make use of private, and not public voices of the opposition.

[10]. It has to be borne in mind, of course, that this new combination of individualism and centralism is not given right away in its completed form, but that it is only springing up now, and is a process, which will be developed only in the struggle itself, and thus perfected.

[11]. With the sarcastic remark that also the Workers’ Union cannot be faultless, you make little impression. It is right only in so far that the union must fight for reforms under capitalism. It is not right in so far as the union fights for the revolution.

[12]. Shop Committees, Shop Stewards, and, especially in Wales, Industrial Unions.

[13]. That this movement in Germany was made from above is slander.

[14]. You, Comrade, and many with you, use here the argument that the Communists, by leaving the Trade Unions, lose touch with the masses. But is not the closest touch obtained in the workshops? And have not all workshops turned more than ever into debating halls? How can the Left Communists possibly lose touch, then?

[15]. Already now the Trade Union question clearly demonstrates where the opportunist tactics of Moscow lead. The members of the Communist Parties are forced to enter the modern Trade Unions (see the thesis accepted on this point). They are forced, therefore, to become scabs and strike-breakers!!! At the same time they must openly support the Syndicalists!!! Instead of openly saying that neither of these organisations are any good, that new ones have to be formed, on the basis of the industries (the theses themselves declare elsewhere that this is what should be done), they adopt this ambiguous attitude. And why? To add masses to the Third International.

[16]. Originally I considered this a minor point. The attitude of the Spartakus League, however, at the time of the Kapp putsch, and your opportunist brochure, opportunist even on this question, have convinced me that it is of great importance.

[17]. This great influence, this entire ideology of the West of Europe, of the United States and the British colonies, is not understood in Eastern Europe, in Turkey, the Balkans, etc. (to say nothing of Asia, etc.).

[18]. The example of Comrade Liebknecht is in itself a proof that our tactics are right. BEFORE the revolution, when imperialism was as yet at the summit of power, and suppressed every movement by martial law, he could exercise an enormous influence through his protests in parliament; DURING the revolution this was so no longer. As soon, therefore, as the workers have taken their lot into their own hands, we must let go of parliamentarism.

[19]. It is true that England has no poor peasants to support capital. But the middle class is correspondingly greater, and is united with capitalism. By means of this advance guard the English proletariat shows how it wants to fight: alone, and against all classes of England and its colonies. And exactly like Germany again: by setting an example. By founding a Communist Party that rejects parliamentarism, and that calls out to the entire class in England: let go of parliament, the symbol of capitalist power. Form your own party and your own industrial organisations. Rely on your own strength exclusively.

This had to be so in England, Comrade; it had to come in the long run. This pride and courage, born out of the greatest capitalism. Now that it comes at last, it comes in full force at once.

[20]. In England, more even than anywhere else, there is always a great danger of opportunism. Thus also our Comrade Sylvia Pankhurst, who from temperament, instinct and experience, not so much perhaps from deep study, but by mere chance, was such an excellent champion of Left Wing Communism, seems to have changed here views. She gives up anti-parliamentarism, and consequently the cornerstone of her fight against opportunism, for the sake of the immediate advantage of unity! By so doing she follows the road thousands of English Labour leaders have taken before her: the road towards submission to opportunism and all it leads to, and finally to the bourgeoisie. This is not to be wondered at. But that you, Comrade Lenin, should have induced her to do so, should have persuaded her, the only fearless leader of consequence in England, this is a blow for the Russian, for the world revolution.

One might ask why I defend anti-parliamentarism for England, whereas above I have recommended it only for those countries where the revolution has broken out. The answer must be that in the struggle it may often prove necessary to go one step so much to the Left. If, in a country so diseased with opportunism as England, the danger should arise of a young Communist Party falling back into the course of opportunism, through parliamentarism, it is a tactical necessity to defend anti-parliamentarism. And thus in many countries of Western Europe it may continue to be!

[21]. It is true that through the war an infinitely greater number of various elements has come down to the ranks of the proletariat. All elements, though as good as any element that is not proletarian, cling desperately to capitalism, and if need be will defend it by armed force, being hostile to Communism.

[22]. I lack the space here to point this out in detail. I have done it so at length in a brochure entitled The Basis of Communism.

[23]. We Dutchmen know this only too well. We have seen the “rifts” disappear before our eyes, in our small, but, through our colonies, highly imperialist country. With us there are no longer democratic, Christian, or other parties. Even the Dutch can judge this better than a Russian, who, I regret to say, seems to judge Western Europe after Russia.

[24]. It is yet the question whether these “pure” Labour governments will come here. Maybe that here again you let yourself be misled by the Russian example – Kerensky. Later in this letter, I will point out why in this case, in the March days in Germany, this “pure” socialist government was not to be supported all the same.

[25]. The Russian Communist Party at the time of Yudenitch’s and Denikin’s attacks, numbered 13,287 men, not one ten thousandth part of the population of 150 million. Through special weeks of propaganda the number, by January 1920, increased to 220,000. Now it is no more than 600,000, 52% of which are workers.

[26]. The quotations are from Radek.

[27]. I point out here the contradiction between this opinion and the effort of winning millions of wavering elements to the Third International. This contradiction is another proof of the opportunism of your tactics.

[28]. A very strong proof of how the Board of the Third International judges all things from the Russian standpoint, is the following: after the German revolution had been beaten down, after the Bavarian and Hungarian revolutions had been crushed, Moscow said to the German and Hungarian proletariat:

“Be comforted, and bear up, for in March and July 1917, we were also defeated; but in November we won. As it went with us, it will go with you.”

And to be sure, this time again Moscow is saying the same to the Czecho-Slovakian workers. But the Russians won in November exclusively because the poor peasants no longer supported Kerensky! Where, Executive Committee, are the millions of poor peasants in Germany, Bavaria, Hungary, and in Czecho-Slovakia? There are none. Your words are just utter nonsense. The perniciousness of these Moscow tactics, however, does not lie solely in that they console the workers by means of a false image, but more especially in the fact that they fail to draw the right conclusion from the defeat in Germany, Bavaria, Hungary and Czecho-Slovakia. The lesson they teach is this:

“Destroy your Trade Unions, and form industrial unions, thus rendering your Party and your class strong internally.”

Instead of this lesson, however, we only hear: “It will go with you as it did with us!” Is it not high time that, against these Moscow tactics, there should arise, all over Western Europe, one firmly organised, iron opposition? It is a question of life and death for the world revolution itself. And also for the Russian revolution.

[29]. With regard to this we must bear in mind that here we are always speaking of a disarmed proletariat. If through some reason or other, through a new war, or later on, in the course of the revolution, the proletariat should once more obtain arms, the above-mentioned conditions do not count.

[30]. To deal with all these Russian examples would be too monotonous. I request the reader to read them all over. He will see that what I have said above is right.

[31]. Personally I believe that in countries where the revolution is far off as yet, and the workers are not yet strong enough to make it, parliamentarism can still be used. The sharpest criticism of the parliamentary delegates is necessary in that case. Other comrades, I believe, are of a different opinion.

[32]. In Halle, in one day alone, 500,000 new members came under leaders which only a short while before they themselves had recognised to be worse than the Scheidemann lot. And in Tours, three quarters of the French Socialist Party joined, which until quite recently were for the most part social patriots.

[33]. Comrade Pannekoek, who thoroughly knows Germany, had predicted this. If the leaders of the Spartakus League were placed before the choice between Parliament and Revolution, they would choose Parliament.

[34]. The English Communists for instance, with regard to the most important matter of affiliation to the Labour Party.

Why we need the Fourth Communist Workers’ International

Herman Gorter

First Published: in “The Workers’ Dreadnought,” October 22nd, 1921, Vol. VIII, No. 32;
Translated: from German: “Proletarier” Nr.9, September 1921.

The post-war situation of the international workers’ movement is distinguished from the pre-war period by certain fundamental changes.

Through the war a great world economic crisis has increased the tension between capital and labour to breaking point. The general disruption of the capitalist system of production has lowered enormously the standard of living of the world proletariat. Nevertheless, the working class of the entire world, without exception, undoubtedly remains content to better its condition, if it can, within the capitalist system, by the old pre-war methods. Especially in the countries which are directly affected by the war has the vicious and fallacious running round in a circle, from which there is no escape, been developed. It is clearly proven here that every apparent increase in wages is automatically, nullified through a corresponding rise in the price of commodities on the one side, and on the other, through the greater output of the paper money press, which causes a fallacious depreciation in the value of money. The rise in the price of commodities, which is simultaneous with the depreciation in the money value, is naturally followed by fresh wage demands, and thus the vicious circle continues.

This situation, so unbearable for the exploited classes, can only be altered by the destruction of the capitalist system and the establishment of a Communist system of production and distribution.

Whilst the policy of social reform was once an historic necessity to raise the condition of the working class, as a preparation for undertaking the final struggle for political and economic power; to-day social reformist tactics are proved to be wholly illusory. To pursue them further will cause ever-increasing misery to the proletariat, a misery which as it grows will stimulate their revolutionary energies.

The development sketched here in outline, has called forth, within the working class itself, far-reaching changes, which have led it far from its position before the world war. The outstanding characteristic of the epoch of the Second International is the organisational unity of the workers’ movement. Social Democracy[1] was, in effect, the united political organisation of the proletariat, whilst the Trade Unions fulfilled the same function on the economic field. This organisational unity bound together political conceptions which were diametrically opposed. Thus the German Social Democracy united the Revolutionary Wing of Liebknecht, Rosa Luxemburg and Mehring with the revisionist tendency of Bernstein, Heine, David, etc., and between these two extremes was the famous Marxist Centre. The uniting within one party of tendencies which were as the poles apart, when regarded historically, is seen to have been possible only because, during the period of the Second International, social reform and revolution did not confront each other as dialectical antitheses. Both principles formed then a united whole in the class-war. That is the real reason why it was possible to have a united political organisation, as represented by social democracy in the pre-war period.

The characteristic phenomenon of the post-war workers’ movement is the organisational disruption on the political and economic field. The splitting of the organisationally united framework is a clear proof that the political oppositions within the working class have acquired quite a different significance from that they presented during the Second International period. The mass of the proletariat today groups itself round the two poles: Social Reform, and Revolution. The position today differs from that of the pre-war period in that these two poles represent absolute opposites, which mutually exclude each other.

The policy of Social Reform is synonymous today with a Reformist policy. The leaders of Reformism, as in the pre-war period, are the Trade Unions; but equally so today are those parties which are working in league with the Trade Unions. The chief aim of the Trade Unions is to reconstruct Capitalism. This aim is quite clearly formulated by them. Therefore, for them, alliance is only possible with parties which stand for the reconstruction of Capitalism and accept as a basis the political and economic union of the bourgeoisie and the proletariat.

In this sense the Moscow International works quite openly with the Amsterdam Trade Union International and the “Two and a Half International.” To most of the sections adhering to the Third International, this is neither repugnant nor surprising, because they have remained inherently the same Social Democratic Parties which they were before their baptism in the holy water of Communism. The only new circumstance is that the language as well as the composition of the Third International can no longer be distinguished from that of Social Democracy. No longer will it set aside any manifestoes as opportunist; the call to participation in the reconstruction of Capitalism resounds ever more clearly as the official Moscow policy.

In Germany the participation of the Communist Party in the united front presented by those sections of the proletariat which have made common cause with bourgeois democracy for the protection of the capitalist Republic, speaks in such unmistakable language that every proletarian must notice in which direction the Communist Party has turned. This is perhaps more clearly apparent in the abandonment of the tactics of opposition to the reactionary Trade Unions, on the part of the German Communist Party. The deal by which the revolutionary district executive of the Halle Metalworkers was united by the Communist Party with the Central Union, from which it had seceded, was not exactly honourable. In fact it was a suspension of the fight against the Amsterdam International and a direct participation in the reconstruction of Capitalism under the wing of Amsterdam. Today the Moscow International finds itself in tow to the Amsterdam International, which means that it is actually in tow to the international bourgeoisie. The more Russia develops towards Capitalism, the more apparent will be the bourgeois character of the Third International.

Therefore we must admit that, regarded from an international standpoint, there is at present no organisation capable and willing of stepping forth as the instrument of the revolutionary world proletariat in the struggle against Capitalism and its adherents in the proletarian camp.

International Capitalism, aided by the Trade Unions, will make desperate attempts to overcome the present economic crisis. The overcoming of the economic crisis is largely dependent upon the opening of the Russian market to West European capital. The English and German capitalist groups especially are working to this end.

As a significant new sign, the tendency of the capitalist Great Powers to come to an understanding amongst themselves must be emphasised. In spite of the deep-rooted opposition of economic interests between Britain and America, Britain finds herself compelled to avoid every open conflict with the great trusts across the Atlantic. The same is true of England and France, and of America and Japan.

The national antagonisms within the sphere of world capitalism pale ever more and more. The economic and political collapse in the world standard of values rises as a threatening spectre before the proletariat of all countries. The Imperialist conflict of the capitalist Great Powers against each other is sunk in the class-war of international capitalism against the world proletariat. The withdrawal of Russia as a factor in the world revolution has completely altered the whole situation. A united bourgeois front for the reconstruction of Capitalism in conjunction with the Amsterdam Trade Unions and the Third International, has become an accomplished fact.

The revolutionary working class of the whole world stands powerless before the situation. It has no class-war organisation which would be capable and willing to lead the revolutionary struggle aiming at the dictatorship of the proletariat and Communism by proletarian methods. The longer the situation remains which secures to Capitalism an unbounded playground for the reconstruction of capitalist economy, so much harder will it be for the proletariat to maintain its defensive position towards the bourgeoisie and the bourgeois position.

The sooner an international centre comes into being, which will incorporate the interests of the proletarian revolution, so much sooner will the fall of the Third International take place.

A crystallised kernel must be formed to which those elements and groups which are opposed to the Moscow International and are comprised of what is known as “Left” Communism.

If the construction of a Communist Workers’ International does not take place at the right moment, we must expect those organisations in all countries which now stand for the platform of the Communist Workers’ Party of Germany to fall back to the level of the Third International.

The Conference of the Communist Workers’ Party of Germany (the K.A.P.D.) has shown that it understands the signs of the times, and is willing to undertake the mighty task to be accomplished in the interests of Communism and the World Revolution.

Footnotes

1. In Britain, where the masses have long been politically backward, as compared with the Continent, the Labour Party, a later growth and a makeshift, replaced the Social Democratic Party as the political unit of the working class, side by side with it we had the small socialist societies. [WD’s note]

Historical Materialism

Herman Gorter

Source: the Collective Action Network.
Marked up: by Einde O’Callaghan for the Marxists’ Internet Archive.

Preface

by Karl Kautsky

This booklet by my friend Herman Gorter is being read by Dutch workers and will also be read by German-speaking workers as well, without the need for any other recommendation.

If I have inserted a few introductory remarks this is because, in a certain sense, I am responsible for the fact that one of his critics could express doubt concerning Gorter’s understanding of historical materialism.

In 1903, in an article in Die Neue Zeit, I expressed the view that, throughout the entire course of social evolution, the precepts of social morality have had absolutely no application outside of the social organization, the nation or the class to which one belongs, and that they are by no means extended to the enemy of the class or the nation. My verification of this reality has been zealously exploited ever since, especially by Catholic priests, against both me and my party. With their well-known love of truth, they distort the confirmation of a reality which has been observed for many thousands of years, since the beginning of human evolution, with respect to all classes and all nations, into an invitation to my party comrades to ignore the prevailing moral points of view and to lie shamefacedly to the masses of the people when the interests of the party require it. The irony of this affair resides in the fact that my argument was part of an article which was a polemic against the old revisionist, now former social democrat, G. Bernhardt, who claimed for the party comrades, “who are situated on a higher plane”, the right to deceive the masses.

Gorter, as it turns out, has subsequently re-confirmed this same point, but he has put it to a more serious use than I did. For this he has been attacked not by his political adversaries, but by his party comrades. He was accused of not understanding Marxism, and it was said that Marx himself held very different positions than Gorter.

As proof, they have referred to the statutes of the International, which contain this statement:

“The International Workingmen’s Association, as well as the individuals and groups of which it is composed, acknowledge truth, justice and morality as the rules governing their mutual affairs as well as their dealings with others, without consideration of color, creed or nationality.”

This sentence would appear to be in total disagreement with Gorter’s position. And these are Marx’s own words, since Marx was the author of the International’s statutes.

First of all, it must be pointed out that this sentence has nothing to do with Gorter’s position. The latter reiterates a fact which has prevailed everywhere from time immemorial. It is not historical fact which the statutes set forth, but requirements for membership in the International.

It cannot be maintained that these requirements were formulated in an especially clear and felicitous manner. What, after all, are truth, justice and morality? Is it not true that each class has its own point of view on justice and morality? Is it not true that solidarity, for example, belongs to proletarian morality? And do we want to comprehensively apply proletarian solidarity to the capitalists? There are undoubtedly many situations where capitalists and proletarians have the same interests. In such cases, the proletariat will much more rapidly practice the solidarity required by their morality than the capitalists. After the Messina earthquake, the proletarians who rushed to the aid of buried victims did not ask if they were rich or poor; they did what they could to save human beings. It was not proletarian considerations which obstructed the rescue efforts, but capitalist concerns, because they placed the highest priority on salvaging property.

Wherever it is not human beings who are confronting nature, but capitalists who are confronting proletarians, within the framework of society, it is impossible to speak of solidarity between them; one group tries to reduce wages, the other tries to increase them. Each can only gain at the expense of the other.

And wherever proletarians enter into conflict with capitalists, they are not obliged to assume an attitude of absolute sincerity towards them. Who would want to require striking workers to communicate to the capitalists the whole truth concerning the size of their strike fund? To deceive the capitalist enemy concerning this figure could in some circumstances literally become a moral duty for a proletarian endowed with class consciousness.

That sentence in the statutes of the International does, of course, contain a kernel of truth. We must acknowledge truth, justice and morality as rules for our behavior in relations among ourselves. Truth must rule among all the combatants of an army; therefore, we do not have the right to tell a lie to the comrades when we believe it is in the interest of the party. This is why, in the article I wrote in 1903 for Die Neue Zeit, I said:

“Just as there are economic laws which are valid for every form of society, there are also moral principles from which no one can be exempt. One of the most important of these principles is the duty of sincerity towards comrades. This duty has never been recognized towards the enemy; on the other hand, without it there can be no lasting cooperation between comrades who are on the same side. It is valid for all societies without class contradictions; and it is valid within a society full of class contradictions for every party specifically composed of class comrades. Lying to party comrades has always been permitted in those parties in which two parties acted in concert, each associating with the other for the purpose of exploiting their joint power in the interest of each. This is the morality of the jesuitical party and of clericalism generally.”[1]

It is perfectly legitimate for the statutes of the International to expressly reject this jesuit morality.

To the best of my knowledge, the only time Marx invoked this statutory principle, he did so in connection with his revulsion at the idea of lying to comrades. He attacked the Bakuninists for forming a secret organization within the International; this organization had “prescribed as the highest duty of its adepts the task of deceiving the profane internationals concerning the existence of the secret organization, concerning its motives and even concerning the purposes of its words and deeds.”[2]

Without mutual sincerity, without reciprocal trust among its members, it is impossible for a democratic party to conduct an energetic struggle.

It is, however, inconceivable that a duty of sincerity should be established towards all men, in every circumstance; towards the police who are persecuting our friends, for example.

Therefore, if the passage from the statutes of the International was indeed written by Marx, it cannot be maintained that he was particularly successful in his choice of words or that an idea worthy of consideration was provided with an opportune form. This is certainly surprising, coming from Marx. But Marx did not write this passage. This was first proven, to the best of my knowledge, by Jäckh in his history of the International. I came to the same conclusion and this has received further confirmation from Marx’s daughter, comrade Laura Lafargue.

One must not forget that Marx was not an autocrat in the International. He was obliged, in the interests of the unity of the proletarian class struggle, to accept many decisions with which he was not at all pleased.

He did not write the statutes of the International all by himself. The supporters of Proudhon and Mazzini also participated in the drafting of the statutes. If one wants to make Marx responsible for the passage in question because it is in the statutes of the International, then he would also share responsibility for the following passage, which, from the points of view of both style and logic, is of a piece with the former, which immediately precedes it:

“The International Workingmen’s Association, as well as the individuals and groups of which it is composed, acknowledge truth, justice and morality as the rules governing their mutual affairs as well as their dealing with all others, without consideration of color, creed or nationality.”

“It is considered to be each man’s duty to demand civil rights and human rights not just for himself but also for all those who do their duty. No rights without duties, no duties without rights.”

Any remaining doubts about whether or not Marx was responsible for the passage about truth and morality will be dispelled as soon as the close relation between that passage and this other one which demands civil rights for those who “do their duty” is recognized. Here we find a provision which is simply ridiculous, since its interpretation is elastic. What authority will decide upon the question of who is doing their duty and, consequently, who is worthy of enjoying civil rights? It was not just the bourgeoisie and the workers who had very different opinions about the rights of the citizen, as there have been even greater differences among the workers during the era of the International. For they still followed in the footsteps of the bourgeoisie in many ways. Among Proudhon’s supporters the strike was considered to be an act of dereliction of duty. Thus, away with the strikers’ right to vote! It never would have occurred to Marx, for example, to demand universal suffrage only for those “who do their duty”.

Naturally, Marx was incapable of opposing the two sentences of the statutes which he helped to draft and which he accepted in their entirety. I have been informed however, by a trustworthy source, that he privately expressed his discontent with these two paragraphs. But evidence of his discontent is also publicly available.

The provisional statutes were first published in 1864 in London as an appendix to the English edition of Marx’s Inaugural Address. They were published in German in April 1866 in the Geneva Vorbote by Johann Phillip Becker. The two paragraphs in question were completely omitted from that edition. It would be idle to speculate that Johann Phillip Becker was opposed to them. He hardly ever concerned himself with theoretical questions.

Could it have been Marx who was behind the excision of these paragraphs from the provisional statutes? It was the absence of these two paragraphs in the German edition of the statutes which, even before I read Jäckh, first called my attention to the fact that there were differences of opinion among those who drafted them and that these two paragraphs brought the contradiction to a head.

The idea that various sentences which horrified Marx were inserted into the statutes by the Proudhonians can be deduced from the following facts. The draft provisional statutes contained this resolution in Section 9:

“Every member of the International Workingmen’s Association will receive, in case of emigration to another country, the fraternal assistance of the associated workers.”

This was not good enough for the Program Committee and for the plenary session of the Geneva Congress which approved the final draft of the statutes, which added the following:

“This assistance consists of:
a) the right to be informed of everything concerning his trade in his new home;
b) the right to credit under circumstances determined by the regulations of his section and to the full amount guaranteed by the same.”

Here the undeniable source of these insertions is clear; it is petit-bourgeois Proudhonism, which sought to emancipate the proletariat with its exchange banks and with free mutual credit, just as it dreamed of an eternal justice which would transform private property from a motive for egoism into an ideal institution.

Proudhonism dominated the entire 1866 Congress. The resolution on the trade unions which had been proposed by the general council and which remains exemplary to this day, hardly interested the delegates at all. The debate on this topic was perfunctory. The following resolution, which was proposed by the Parisian delegation, was most passionately debated and unanimously adopted:

“1) The Congress recommends to all sections that they undertake studies of international credit and send the results thereof to the general council, and that they publicize these studies for the benefit of all comrades in their ‘bulletins’, so that, at the next congress, the comrades will be able to pass resolutions in connection therewith.”

“2) The Congress recommends the immediate study of the idea of the cooperative fusion of all the present and future workers credit institutions into a future central bank of the International Workingmen’s Association.”

Just one more resolution to give an idea of the character of the Geneva Congress; it concerns female labor.

Varlin and Bourdon proposed the following resolution:

“The lack of training, the degree of overwork, an exceedingly low rate of pay and unhygienic conditions in the factories are the causes, for the women who work in them today, of physical and moral decline. These causes can be eliminated by a better organization of labor, that is, by cooperation. The task is not to remove woman from labor that she needs in order to live, but to adapt it to her capacities.”

This excellent resolution was defeated; the following resolution, proposed by the Proudhonians Chemale, Tolain and Fribourg, was adopted instead:

“From the physical, moral and social perspectives, female labor must be rejected, as it is a cause of degeneration and is one of the sources of the moral decline of the working class.”

“Woman has received certain tasks from nature, and her place is in the family; her duty consists in raising children, bringing order to man’s life, accustoming him to family life and improving his habits. These are the services which woman must provide, the jobs she must do; to impose other tasks upon her is a bad thing.”

This limited concept of female labor is also truly Proudhonian.

One therefore arrives at the most false conclusions by simply attributing all the declarations of the International to Marx. Many of them were inspired precisely by anti-Marxist elements. Whoever seeks to invoke the declarations of the International in order to characterize Marxist thought, must first have a clear grasp of that theory and its differences with respect to the spirit of the other socialist schools of thought which flourished during the era of the International.

One can be a very good Marxist and have a very good understanding of historical materialism yet nonetheless disagree with numerous resolutions of the International and with many passages in its statutes.

This applies, first of all, to the passages Marx did not compose. But it would not be very Marxist to want to stop at Marx’s words and bow down before them without demonstrating a critical mind. From the first moment of coming into contact with his method, it is natural that no one would want to unnecessarily disagree with a giant of thought like Marx. Nor, in the present case, is this necessary.

So, as far as I know, his divergence from the statutes of the International is the sole objection which has been offered against Gorter’s understanding of historical materialism. Now, readers of the German language will be able to judge his pamphlet for themselves.

K. Kautsky

I
The Theme of this Pamphlet

Social democracy embraces not merely the aspiration to transform private property in the means of production, that is, natural forces and instruments of labor, as well as the soil, into common property, and to achieve this thanks to the political struggle, to the conquest of State power; social democracy embraces not just a political and economic struggle; it is more: it also embraces a struggle of ideas over a conception of the world, a struggle fought against the possessing classes.

The worker who wants to help defeat the bourgeoisie and bring his class to power must eliminate from his mind the bourgeois ideas which have been inculcated in him since his childhood by the State and the Church. It is not enough to join the trade union and the political party. He will never be able to be victorious with them if he does not transform himself internally into a different human being than the one molded by his rulers. There is a certain conception, a conviction, a philosophy, one might say, which the bourgeoisie rejects but which the worker must embrace if he wants to defeat the bourgeoisie.

The bourgeoisie want to convince the workers that mind is above material social existence, that mind alone rules and forms matter. They have been using mind as a means of domination: they have science, law, politics, art and the Church behind them and their rule incorporates all of these things. Now they want to make the workers believe that this is an expression of the natural order; that mind by its nature rules over material social existence, that it rules over the workers in the factory, the mine, the farm, the railroad and the ship. The worker who believes this, who believes that mind creates production, labor and social classes by itself, this worker submits to the bourgeoisie and their accomplices, the priests, the experts, etc., because the bourgeoisie controls the majority of the sciences, it controls the Church, and thus mind, and, if this is true, it must rule.

To preserve its power, the possessing class is trying to convince the workers to accept this as true.

But the worker who wants to become a free being, who wants to place the State under the power of his class and seize the means of production from the possessing classes, this worker must understand that the bourgeoisie, with its way of depicting things, turns them on their head and that it is not mind which determines existence, but social existence which determines mind.

If the worker understands this, then he will free himself from the mental rule of the possessing classes and will oppose their way of thinking with his own more just and more resilient way of thinking.

Furthermore, because social evolution and social existence itself are moving in the direction of socialism, because they are paving the way for socialism, the worker who understands this and who understands that his socialist thinking comes from social existence, will recognize that what is happening all around him in human society is the cause of what is produced in his head, that socialism is born in his head because it is growing outside, in society. He will recognize and will feel that he possesses the truth about reality; this will give him the courage and the confidence that are necessary for the social revolution.

This understanding is therefore just as indispensable for proletarian combat as the trade union and the political struggle; one could say that without this knowledge the economic and political struggles could not be carried through to the end. Mental slavery prevents the worker from correctly prosecuting the material struggle; a poor proletarian, his consciousness of being mentally stronger than his masters raises him above them and also confers upon him the power to defeat them in reality.

Historical materialism is the doctrine which explains that it is social existence which determines mind, and which obliges thought to take particular paths and which thus determines the will and the acts of individuals and classes.

In this pamphlet we shall attempt to prove to the workers, as simply and as clearly as possible, the truth of this doctrine.

II
What Historical Materialism Is Not

However, before we proceed to a clear statement of what historical materialism is, in anticipation of encountering certain prejudices and foreseeable misunderstandings, we would like to first of all say what historical materialism is not. For besides the historical materialism that is the doctrine of social democracy, a particular doctrine established by Friedrich Engels and Karl Marx, there is also philosophical materialism, and various systems of that kind. And these systems, unlike historical materialism, do not address the question of how the mind is compelled by social existence, by the mode of production, technology, and labor, to proceed by way of determined paths, but rather the question of the relation between body and mind, matter and soul, God and the world, etc. These other systems, which are not historical but merely philosophical, attempt to find an answer to the question: what is the nature of the relationship between thinking in general and matter, or, how did thinking arise? Historical materialism, on the other hand, asks: why is it that, in any particular era, thought takes on one form or another? General philosophical materialism will say, for example: matter is eternal, and mind is born from it under certain conditions; it then disappears when its conditions no longer exist; while historical materialism will say: the fact that proletarians think in a different way than the possessing classes is a consequence of such-and-such causes.

General philosophical materialism asks about the nature of thought. Historical materialism asks about the causes of changes in thought. The former tries to explain the origin of thought, the latter its evolution. The former is philosophical, the latter historical. The former assumes a context in which there is no thought, no mind; the latter assumes the existence of mind. The big difference is apparent.

Those who want to examine and learn to understand the doctrine of social democracy must begin by paying particular attention to this difference. For their opponents, and especially all the religious believers, want at all costs to confound the two systems and, as a result of the revulsion expressed by the religious workers for the former doctrine, to banish the other system as well. The pastors of the church-goers say: materialism proclaims that the entire world is nothing but matter in mechanical motion, that matter and force are the only things that absolutely and eternally exist, that thought is simply a secretion of the brain, just as bile is a secretion of the liver; they say that the materialists are worshippers of matter and that historical materialism is the same thing as philosophical materialism. Many workers, especially in the Catholic regions, which still cling to the servile adoration of the spirit and where those who are acquainted with the true ideas of social democracy concerning the nature of mind, as they have been presented by Joseph Dietzgen, are few and far between, heed these warnings and are afraid to listen to social democratic speakers who want to lead them to the worship of matter and thus to eternal damnation.

These claims are false. We shall show, by means of a series of examples, that historical materialism does not address the general relationship between mind and matter, soul and body, God and the world, thought and existence, but only explains the changes which thought undergoes and which are produced by social transformations.

But if we prove that historical materialism is not the same thing as philosophical materialism, we do not thereby intend to imply that historical materialism cannot lead to a general conception of the world. To the contrary, historical materialism is, like every empirical science, a means to reach a general philosophical conception of the world. This is an especially important aspect of its meaning for the proletariat. It brings us closer to a general representation of the world. This representation is not, however, that of the mechanical-material view, any more than it is that of the catholic-christian, evangelical or liberal view; it is another conception altogether, a new conception, a new vision of the world which is particular to social democracy. Historical materialism is not a conception of the world strictly speaking; it is a path, a means, one of many means to reach such a conception, like Darwinism, all the sciences, Marx’s doctrine of capital and Dietzgen’s doctrine of mind, or the knowledge of such means. Any one of these means alone is not enough to attain this conception of the world but all of them together lead to it.

Since we shall only be discussing historical materialism in this pamphlet, we shall obviously not speak in any detail about the general philosophical conception of social democracy. In relation to some of the examples which shall help shed light on our topic, we shall nevertheless encounter opportunities to display a glimpse of this general conception of the world, so that the reader may acquire some understanding of this totality of which historical materialism constitutes one part alongside so many other sciences.

III
The Content of the Doctrine

What, then, is the general content of our doctrine? Before we start to demonstrate its accuracy and its truth, we shall first provide the reader with a clear general outline of what we intend to prove.

For anyone who observes the social life which surrounds him it is obvious that society’s members live in certain mutual relations. They are not social equals but occupy higher or lower ranks and are opposed to one another in groups or classes. The superficial observer might think that these relations are nothing but property relations: some possess the land, others the factories, the means of transport or commodities destined for sale, while others possess nothing. Or he might think that the difference is principally a political difference; certain groups have the power of the State at their disposal, others have little or no influence over the State. But the more penetrating observer sees that, behind property and political relations, there are production relations, that is, relations in which men confront one another in the production of society’s needs.

Workers, businessmen, ship-owners, rentiers, big landowners, farmers, wholesalers and shopkeepers are what they are due to the place they occupy in the production process, in the transformation and circulation of products. This difference is even more profound than the distinction between someone with money and someone without money. The transformation of the wealth of nature is the basis of society. We are reciprocally involved in relations of labor and production.

On what, then, are these labor relations based? Are all men, as capitalists and workers, big landowners, farmers and day laborers, somehow simply floating in the air, so they can all call each other members of society?

No, labor relations are based on technology, on the instruments with which the land and nature are transformed. Industrialists and proletarians rely upon machinery, they are dependent on machinery. If there were no machines, there would be no industrialists or proletarians, or at least not the kind we know today.

The occupation of the artisan weaver gave birth to work at home for the whole family; the occupation of weaver in a small workshop engendered a society of small masters and clerks; large-scale steel weaving machinery powered by steam or electricity led to a society of great industrialists, stock brokers, directors, bankers and wage workers.

Production relations are not suspended in the air like clouds of smoke or steam; they form solid boundaries within which men are enclosed. The production process is a material process; its instruments are the walls and foundations of the space we occupy.

Technology, the instruments of production and the productive forces comprise society’s infrastructure, the real basis upon which the whole gigantic highly-developed organism of society is raised. But the same men who establish their social relations on the basis of their mode of production also form their ideas, representations, concepts and principles on the basis of these relations. The capitalists, the workers and the other classes who, as a result of the technology of the society in which they live, are obliged to confront one another in specific relations – as master and servant, property owner and the propertyless, landowner, farmer, and day laborer – these same capitalists, workers, etc., also think as capitalists, workers, etc. They form their ideas and representations not as abstract beings, but as real, living, quite concrete men; they are social men who live in a specific society.

Therefore, it is not just our material relations which depend on technology, and are based on labor and the productive forces, but also, since we think within these material relations and under these relations, our thoughts depend directly on these relations and thus indirectly on the productive forces.

The modern social existence of the proletariat was created by the machine. The proletariat’s social thoughts, which result from the relation in which the proletariat as such finds itself, are then indirectly based on the modern replacement of labor by machinery, they indirectly depend on it. And the same is true of all the classes of capitalist society. For the relations within which individual men confront one another are not just applicable to each man individually. Socially, each man is not situated in a unique relation which applies to him as a personal fact as opposed to other men; he has many fellow men who are in exactly the same relation with each other. A worker – to continue with this example – is not alone as a wage worker in relation to other men, he is one of numerous wage workers, he is a member of a class of millions of wage workers who, as wage workers, find themselves in the same situation. And the same is true of all men in the civilized world; everyone belongs to a group, a class whose members are involved in the same way in the production process. Therefore, not only is it true that a worker, a capitalist, a peasant, etc., will think socially as the work relations make them think, but their ideas and representations will coincide in their principle characteristics with those of hundreds of thousands of other people who find themselves in the same situation as them. There is a class thought, just as there is a class position in the labor process.

The form – here we continue to occupy ourselves with the general outline of our doctrine – in which the work relations of the different classes (capitalists, businessmen, workers, etc.) are revealed is at the same time a property relation in capitalist society and, in general, in any society divided into classes. The capitalists, the wage workers, the shopkeepers and the peasants not only occupy their own positions within production, but also in terms of possession, of property. The shareholder who pockets the dividends plays in the production process not just the role of supplier of money and parasite, but also the role of co-owner of the business, the means of production, the land, the tools, the raw materials and the products. The shopkeeper is not only someone who participates in exchange, an intermediary, but is also an owner of commodities and of commercial profit. The worker is not merely the person who makes the goods, but is also the owner of his labor power, which he sells in each instance, and of the price which his labor power fetches. In these terms, work relations, in a society which is divided into classes, are at the same time property relations.

It has not always been so. In primitive communist society, the land, the communally-built dwelling, the herds, in a word, the principal means of production, were common property. Essential social labor was carried out jointly; setting aside gender and age distinctions, there was equality in the production process and there was little or no difference in the control of property.

But after the division of labor advanced so far that all kinds of special jobs were created, and, thanks to an improved technology and a more developed division of labor, after a surplus above and beyond what was immediately needed for survival was produced, certain eminent professions – distinguished by knowledge or valor – such as those of priest and warrior, succeeded in appropriating this surplus and, ultimately, the means of production as well. This is how classes were born and this is how private property became the form in which labor relations have been manifested.

“Thanks to the development of technology and the division of labor, classes were created. Class relations and property relations rest upon labor. Thanks to the development of technology, which has placed certain professions in a position to take possession of the means of production, the propertied and propertyless were born and the vast majority of the people were transformed into slaves, serfs and wage workers.”

And the surplus which technology and labor produce beyond what is immediately needed has become increasingly important, and so has the wealth of the owners, and all the more stark is the class contrast for those who have no property. And, therefore, the class struggle has grown proportionately, the struggle waged by the classes for the possession of the products and means of production, and has thus become the general form of the struggle for existence of men in society. Labor relations are property relations, and property relations are relations between classes which are engaged in struggle with one another; and all these relations, taken as a whole, rest upon the development of labor, they result from the labor process and technology.

But technology does not stand still. It is part of a faster or slower development and movement, the forces of production grow, the mode of production changes. And when the mode of production changes, the relations in which men face one another must necessarily change as well. The relations of the old small-scale master craftsmen among themselves and with their apprentices are completely different from the present-day relations of the big business owners among themselves and with the wage-earning proletariat. Mechanized production has resulted in a modification of the old relations. And since, in a class society, production relations are at the same time property relations, the latter are revolutionized along with the former. And since conceptions, representations, ideas, etc. are formed within the framework and as functions of the relations in which men live, consciousness is also modified when labor, production and property undergo changes.

Labor and thought are parts of a continuous process of change and development. “By transforming nature by means of his labor, man simultaneously transforms his own nature.” The mode of production of material life conditions all of social life. “It is not man’s consciousness which determines his existence, but his social existence which determines his consciousness.”

At a certain stage of development, however, the material productive forces of society enter into conflict with the existing relations of production and property. The new productive forces cannot develop within the old relations; they cannot fully unfold within them. A struggle then begins between those who have an interest in preserving the old relations of production and property and those who have an interest in the development of the new productive forces. An era of social revolution ensues and lasts until the new productive forces are victorious and new relations of production and property arise in which the new productive forces can flourish.

And, by way of this revolution, man’s thought changes as well; it is modified with and within this revolution.

I have briefly summarized the content of our doctrine. It can be recapitulated in an outline form as follows:

I.   Technology, the productive forces, forms the basis of society.
The productive forces determine the relations of production, the relations in which men confront one another in the production process.
The relations of production are at the same time property relations.
      The relations of production and property are not only relations between persons, but between classes.
These relations of class, property and production (in other words, social existence) determine man’s consciousness, that is, his conceptions of rights, politics, morality, religion, philosophy, art, etc.

II.  Technology is undergoing continuous development.
Consequently, the productive forces, the mode of production, property and class relations, are also undergoing constant modification.
      Therefore, man’s consciousness, his conceptions and representations of rights, politics, morality, religion, philosophy, art, etc., are also modified along with the relations of production and the productive forces.

III. The new technology, at a certain stage of development, enters into conflict with the old relations of production and property.
      Finally, the new technology prevails.

The economic struggle between the conservative sectors which have an interest in the preservation of the old forms and the progressive sectors which have an interest in the rise of the new forces enters into consciousness under juridical, political, religious, philosophical and artistic forms.

Now we shall attempt to prove that our theory is correct. By means of a series of examples we shall demonstrate the causal relation between changes in human technology and changes in human thought. If we succeed in doing so, then we shall have toppled an important pillar upon which the power of the capitalists over the workers rests. We shall thus have proven that no divine providence or human mental superiority can prevent the workers form ruling the world when technology transforms them into intellectual and material masters.

IV
Our Examples

The examples we shall provide below, first of all, must be very simple. They must be understood by workers who have little historical knowledge. They must thus possess a persuasive force as a result of their clarity. We shall therefore choose large-scale, wide-ranging phenomena, whose effects are visible everywhere.

If our doctrine is correct, it must obviously be valid for all of history.

It must be able to explain all class struggles, all radical changes in the thought of classes and society.

A great deal of historical knowledge, however, is required to explain, on the basis of our doctrine, examples drawn from previous centuries. We shall show how dangerous it is to want to apply our doctrine to eras or situations concerning which we have little or no knowledge. Neither the reader nor the author of this pamphlet possesses such extensive historical knowledge. We shall therefore only provide very simple examples, but we shall seek them primarily in our own era; large-scale phenomena which every worker knows or could know from his environment, changes in social relations and social thought which must be noticed by every living man. Questions, in short, which are of the greatest interest for the existence of the working class and which can only be satisfactorily resolved for that class by social democracy.

Furthermore, we shall have in this manner simultaneously conducted good propaganda work.

But very important and seemingly powerful arguments will be presented against our doctrine.

This is why, when we are discussing all kinds of mental phenomena, such as changes in political ideas, religious representations and other similar facts, we shall pause to consider and to combat on each occasion one of the most significant arguments of our opponents, so that our doctrine can be progressively approached from every angle and a good view of the whole can be obtained.

The material modifications brought about by technological change can quite easily be distinguished. In every industrial sector, in the means of transportation and in agriculture, too, everywhere technology is changing, the productive forces are changing. We see this taking place every day before our eyes.

Typesetting and the manufacture of printed materials were until recently still generally done by hand. But technological progress has brought the linotype machine, which selects the letters in obedience to the hand of the typographer and puts them in their place.

Glass-blowing was done by mouth. Technology has invented tools which manufacture glass vases, bottles, etc.

Butter was made by hand. A machine has been invented which churns vast quantities of milk in a much shorter period of time; this machine is now universally employed.

Dough is kneaded by hand in the little baker’s shop; the machine does it in a bread factory.

Light was produced by the mother of the family in the old-fashioned household. She cleaned and filled the lamp, taking care to trim the wick. In the modern home, gas or electricity is supplied from afar by machinery.

Everywhere you look, you see changes in the productive forces in every sector of industry, as well as increasingly more rapid transformation and faster-paced evolution. The machine executes operations that were once thought to be impossible for machines.

Along with the productive forces, the relations of production and the mode of production also change. We have already mentioned weaving machinery and how it introduced new relations among the business owners, and between the business owners and the workers. Previously, there were numerous artisans with adjoining little workshops, and proportionally few wage workers. Now there are hundreds of thousands of wage workers and proportionally few factory owners, few entrepreneurs in this industry. The manufacturers conduct themselves in their relations with one another like great lords while they act like Asiatic despots towards the workers. How these relations have changed! All of this, furthermore, was determined by the machine alone.

For it is the machine that has enriched those who could afford to buy one, the machine put them into a position to overcome their competitors, to obtain an enormous amount of capital on credit and, perhaps, to form a trust. And it is the machine, the force of production, which has caused the small business owners to lose their property and has compelled thousands of them to enter the ranks of wage labor.

And what consequences have resulted from the new productive forces employed in the production of butter? The machine, which transforms thousands of liters of milk into butter, was too expensive for the average peasant, who furthermore did not produce enough milk to use it. That is why a hundred peasants join together to buy one, and now they process their milk collectively. The productive force has been modified, but so too have the relations of production, as well as the whole way the product is produced; where formerly one hundred people worked separately, where the wives and children of the peasants made butter under conditions of agricultural exploitation, now one hundred people cooperate to make wage workers labor on behalf of their collective. The peasants, their wives, their children and a certain number of proletarians have entered into new relations of production with each other and with society as a whole.

It used to be the woman of the house who took care of the gas or oil lamp; hundreds of thousands of women were kept busy providing lighting for the home. But if the municipality builds a manufactured gas plant or an electric power station, then the relations of production are modified. It is not a particular human being who produces, but a vast social organism: the municipality. A new type of worker, previously rare, makes its appearance by the thousands: municipal employees, who have a totally different relation to society than the old producers of illumination.

Long ago, wagons were used to transport commodities and mail from one place to another. Technology has invented the locomotive and the telegraph and has thus made it possible for the capitalist State to attract the transport of goods, men and information. Hundreds of thousands of workers and employees have entered into new relations of production. The human masses in the municipality, the State or the Empire, are in a direct relation of production with the collectivity, and are much more numerous than the armed hordes of the past.

There is no activity which has not seen technology introduce a new way of production. From top to bottom, from scientific research in chemistry, from the inventor’s laboratory to the most humble labor and sewage disposal in a modern big city, technology and work routines are constantly changing. Every activity has been revolutionized, so that inventions are no longer the work of chance or of genius but are the work of people who are trained for the purpose of discovering inventions, and who consciously pursue certain paths towards that end.

One after another, production sectors are transformed or even totally eliminated. The economic life of a modern capitalist country is like a modern city where new construction replaces whole neighborhoods.

The new technology engenders big capital, and thus also gives rise to the modern banking and credit system which multiplies yet further the powers of big capital.

It gives rise to modern trade, it gives rise to the export of goods and capital, and that is why the seas are covered with fleets and whole regions of the world are subjected to capitalism for the production of minerals and agricultural products.

It gives rise to such huge capitalist interests that only the State is powerful enough to defend them. It therefore gives rise to the modern capitalist State itself, with its militarism, its taste for naval flotillas, its colonialism and imperialism, with its army of functionaries and its bureaucracy.

Is it necessary for us to use such examples to draw the attention of the workers to the fact that the new production relations are also property relations? The number of owners of means of production in the German Empire decreased by 84,000 in industry and 68,000 in agriculture between 1895 and 1907, at the same time that the population dramatically increased; on the other hand, the number of men who live from the sale of their labor power increased by three million in industry and 1,660,000 in agriculture. This change, which affected not just production relations but also property relations, was provoked by the new technology, which has smothered small business and has transformed hundreds of thousands of the children of the petit-bourgeoisie and peasantry into wage workers. And what else is the so-called new middle class but a class with new property relations? Functionaries, whose numbers are rapidly increasing, officials, scientists, the intelligentsia, the higher-paid professors, the engineers, chemists, lawyers, doctors, artists, managers, traveling salesmen, the small shopkeepers dependent on big capital, everyone who receives remuneration for services to the bourgeoisie directly or indirectly by way of the State, this new middle class exists in a property relation distinct from that of the old autonomous middle class. And the modern big capitalists who rule the world and world politics with their banks, their syndicates, their trusts and their cartels, exist in property relations vis-à-vis society which are totally different from those of the Florentines, the Venetians, or the Hanseatic, Flemish, Dutch or English traders and industrialists of centuries past.

Production and property relations are therefore not personal, but class relations.

The new technology creates, on the one hand, propertyless people whose numbers are increasing at a faster rate than the general population, who are slowly becoming the majority of the population, and who receive almost none of the social wealth, as well as a very large number of petit-bourgeois and peasants, employees and practitioners of the most diverse trades, who get very little of the social wealth. On the other hand, however, technology creates a proportionally small number of capitalists who, by way of their political and economic domination, get the greater part by far of the social wealth.

And the surplus they amass each year is once again used to exploit those who have little or nothing, the workers, peasants and petit-bourgeois, and foreign peoples in countries which have not yet undergone capitalist development, so that accumulation takes place, at compound interest, progressively growing, and deprivation is aggravated on the one hand, and a surplus of social wealth comes into being on the other hand.

The constant progress of technology therefore creates not only new relations of production and property, but also new class relations and, in our case, a sharper class divide and more widespread class struggle.

Is it not true that the whole world sees this? It is really not hard to see. The classes have turned on each other; the contemporary class struggle is sharper, more extensive and more profound than it has been for fifty years. With each passing year the abyss has grown wider and deeper and is getting bigger every day. It is absolutely clear that the cause of this is technology.

It is easy to understand the material side of this issue. Does it take many words to explain to the son of a Saxon or Westphalian peasant, who has become a factory worker, that it was technology which made this happen, that it was a result of the new methods of production? That there was no future for him in a small business, that today’s competition is too fierce, that too much capital is required, that only a few people can succeed in small business, but that the great majority must labor fruitlessly? Big capital is big technology; who can amass such capital with big technology? The modern worker knows full well that the material situation, bad food, bad housing, and bad clothing for him and his class, are the consequences of the new production relations which have arisen from the old production relations thanks to technology. It is not hard to discern the material existence of all the classes in clearly-defined relation to the relations of production and of property and, therefore, to the productive forces. Now no one can point to the expensive clothes, the excellent food, and the luxurious home of the manufacturer as a gift from God, because it is clear that he obtained his well-being and his fortune thanks to exploitation. No one can see “predestination” at work in the downfall of the wholesaler or the speculator, because the cause of their downfall must be sought in value or commodity exchange. No one can speak of heaven’s wrath when a worker is struck down by unemployment for months, by illness and enduring poverty, because the natural causes, or, more properly speaking, the social causes of all these things, all of which have their roots in the new technologies, are sufficiently well-known, at least by the worker. Nor can one any longer stand for making personal intellectual faculties or individual character responsible for one’s prosperity or misfortune, because in the big business which is replacing everything, millions of people with excellent talents cannot advance.

Society has reached such a level of development that the material causes of our material existence openly reside, for all to see, in society as well as in nature.

Just as we know that the sun is the source of all material life on earth, so too do we know that the labor process and the relations of production are the causes of the way things are in social material life.

If the worker would look calmly and steadily at his material existence, that of his comrades and of the classes above him, he would discover that what has been said above is correct. This would free him from many prejudices and superstitions.

At first sight, the question becomes more difficult when it is a matter of recognizing the relation between material labor, the relations of production and property, and mental existence. The soul, the spirit, the heart, reason; these have been presented to us for a long time, to us and our predecessors, as what is our own, as what is best, as the all-powerful (and even, from time to time, as all that exists)!

Nonetheless ... when we say: “Social existence determines consciousness,” this thesis is, undoubtedly, in its universal significance, a great new truth but, even before Marx and Engels, that which pointed in this direction and paved the way for the higher truth which they discovered, had already been explained, proven and acknowledged.

Does not every educated man believe, does he not know, for example, that before Marx and Engels had clearly proven so much, men’s customs, experience, education and environment also shaped them mentally? And our customs – are they not products of society? The men who educate us – have they not been educated themselves by society, and do they not give us a social education? Our experience – is it not social experience? We do not live alone like Robinson Crusoe! Our environment is, then, society first of all; we can only live in nature with our society. All of this is true, and it has also been acknowledged by people who are neither Marxists nor social democrats.

But materialism does not stop there; it summarizes all previous science, but goes deeper by saying: social experience, social customs, education and environment are themselves determined in turn by social labor and social relations of production. The latter determine all mental existence. Labor is the root of the human mind. The mind is born from that root.

V
Social Existence Determines Mental Existence

A. Science, Knowledge and Learning

Science is an important domain of the mind, although it does not constitute all of it. How can its contents be determined?

The worker must first of all, while reading this, observe himself. Where does the extent and type of knowledge which fills his mind come from?

He has some knowledge of reading, writing and arithmetic – we are speaking generally, since here we are discussing an ordinary member of the working class who is not in an exceptional situation. In his youth, he may have learned some other things: a little geography, a little history, but remembers nothing of these subjects. Why did he have precisely this miserable education and nothing more?

This is determined by the process of production, with its relations of production. The class of capitalists, which rules in the so-called civilized countries, needs, for its workshops, workers who are not totally ignorant. This is why it introduced elementary schools for the children of proletarians and set the maximum age for receiving this education at 12 to 14 years. The bourgeoisie needed, in the process of production, workers who were neither more ignorant, nor more educated. If they were more ignorant, they would not have been profitable enough, while if they were more educated, they would have been too expensive and too demanding. In the same way that the process of production needs certain machines which run faster and supply more products, it also needs a certain kind of worker, the modern proletarian, unlike the workers of the past. The process of production imposes this need on society; it creates this need as a result of its own nature. In the eighteenth century, for example, there was no need for workers of this kind.

The same thing also took place with the knowledge of the other classes.

Big capitalist industry, communications and agriculture increasingly rely upon the physical and natural sciences. The process of production is a conscious scientific process. The new technology has itself laid the foundations of the modern natural sciences by inventing tools for them and by providing them with the means of communication which bring them material from every country. Production consciously utilizes the forces of nature. As a result, the process of production needs men who understand the natural sciences, mechanics and chemistry, since only such men can take responsibility for the direction of production and discover new methods and new tools. This is why, because they are social requirements of the process of production, the secondary school and the institution of higher learning are often organized principally with a view towards the study of nature and they teach those sciences which are necessary for the direction and extension of the process of production.

Knowledge, the sum of all the particular knowledge of all these mechanics, shipbuilders, engineers, agronomists, chemists, mathematicians, and science teachers, is therefore determined by the process of production.

We shall draw a second example from these same social classes. The activity of lawyers, professors of law and economics, judges, notaries, etc., does it not presuppose a certain property law, that is, as we have seen above, certain relations of production? The notaries, lawyers, etc., are these not people who are needed by capitalist society for the preservation and protection of the rights of property? Therefore, is it not true that their particular way of thinking is inspired by the bourgeois class, and their thought has its source in the process of production which has engendered these classes?

The nobility, the bureaucracy, the parliament – do they not presuppose property or class interests based on relations of production, interests which must by protected at home against the other classes and overseas against other peoples? Is the government not the central committee of the bourgeoisie which defends their property and interests? The government itself, as well as the knowledge and special techniques which it possesses for that purpose, are born from social needs, from the needs of the process of production and property. The knowledge of its members is used for the preservation of the existing relations of production and property.

And what is the role of the clergy, of the minister and the priest? If they are reactionaries, they officially serve – with their demand that one must unconditionally submit to the dogmas of the Church and to certain moral precepts – to uphold the old society. This is what their knowledge is used for, this is why they were educated in institutions of higher learning; there is a social need, a class need, for people who preach such things. If they are progressives, they proclaim the rule of God over the world, the rule of the spirit over matter, and thus help the bourgeoisie – who have educated them for this purpose – to preserve their rule over labor.

The system of production and property required the cultivation of a certain kind of priest, judge, physicist, and technician. It produced them and, through social necessity, the protagonists and representative of these social roles have continuously been making their appearance en masse in society. The individual imagines that he freely chooses one of the professions and that the conceptions nourished in them “are the determinant characteristic causes and the point of departure for his activity”. In reality these conceptions and his choice, first of all, are determined by the process of production.

“In the social production of their lives,” Marx says, “men enter into necessary and determined relations, independent of their wills, relations of production.” This is certainly true. These relations are necessary and independent of our will. They were already present before we were born. We must necessarily enter into these relations; society, with its process of production, with its classes and needs, has us in its power.

And all these kinds of professions require a certain amount and a certain type of knowledge in order to fulfill their functions in society. It is therefore clear that, like their functions themselves, the various kinds of knowledge required by society are determined by the social process of production.

Our Opponents’ First Objection

In this first discussion we have addressed the issue of knowledge, which plays an important role in society and thus, in our doctrine, which is the true image of society, a role which we must therefore mention again and again. It is a question of necessity.

Necessity, however, is something mental, it is felt, perceived and thought, in the soul, in the heart, in the spirit and in the brain of man.

With this argument, the opponents of social democracy forge a weapon against us.

They say that if the institutions of the process of production are engendered by man’s need, then the cause of this need is, first of all, spiritual and not material-social.

This objection is easy to refute. Where, after all, do needs come from? Are they born from free will, are they based on opinion? Are they the independent results of the spirit? No, needs originate in man’s corporeal nature. Above all, if the needs of food, clothing and shelter are not met, men would perish miserably. The activity of procuring food, clothing and shelter, for the production and reproduction of life, is the purpose of the process of production; when we speak of production, we must always include the production of those articles which men need in order to live.

But if man in general has need of food, clothing and shelter, each particular mode of production implies its own particular needs. Such needs are always rooted in the process of production. Today, the production of our vital necessities is only possible by way of big industry, under the protection of State power; it therefore requires a highly-developed science; it requires people who understand science. The student, for example, needs knowledge of mechanics, law, theology, and political science; but who provided him with these needs? Society, his society, with its particular process of production, which, without such knowledge, could neither exist nor produce his means of subsistence. In a different form of society, he might not have desired these fields of knowledge and might have aspired to study completely different subjects.

The worker also feels the need for knowledge, that is, for knowledge of society, for the kind of knowledge we are attempting to give him at this very moment – a knowledge of a completely different kind than that which is given him in the school of the ruling class – but where does this need come from? From the process of production. For the latter transforms the worker into a member of a class which numbers in the millions, which must fight and is capable of attaining victory. If this were not so, the worker would not seek such knowledge. In the eighteenth century, he did not yet seek it because the relations of production were of another kind during that era and did not provoke this need in him.

It is therefore only an illusion to think that it is the need for knowledge, the spiritual sensation of the soul, which leads us. If we reflect deeply, we see that this need is inspired within us by the social-material relations.

This is true not only in the case of the “higher” spiritual need for knowledge but is also true of much “lower” things; material needs are also often determined by technology, by the relations of production and of property.

The worker needs, for example, food like any other man, but does he need margarine, does he need ersatz food, or substitutes for his clothing, his comfort and his adornment? Honestly, no. It must instead be said that man, by his nature, desires food which invigorates him and good clothing to adorn him. But if the system of production and of property needed cheap food for the workers, it experienced the need to give rise to mass-produced articles; it produced them, and only in this way and only for this reason has the need for these cheap, mass-produced, low-quality products arisen.

Thus, no one needs, in and of itself, a production process capable of producing 100,000 pieces per hour or one that runs at the speed of one hundred kilometers per hour; only the producer who is under the pressure of competition needs it as a consequence of the system of production; the latter produces the machines which attain such speeds and such levels of productivity, and only in this way and for this reason is this need felt by all of society’s individuals.

We could thus provide hundreds of examples. The reader will easily find them by just looking around.

“Is the system of needs as a whole based on opinion, or on the complete organization of production? In most cases, needs are born from production or from a general situation based on production. World trade almost exclusively revolves around the needs of production rather than individual consumption.” And in this manner knowledge, too, is born from the needs of production.

The Second Objection

But – say our opponents – there is a general desire for knowledge common to all men! The desire for any particular kind of knowledge might be temporary, but the general desire for knowledge is eternal.

Not at all. There are peoples who have absolutely no desire for knowledge, who are perfectly satisfied with the little passed on to them by their ancestors in the way of science.

In a lush tropical region where nature provides the inhabitants with all they need, the latter are content when they can plant their palm trees and when they know how to build a hut with branches and leaves, and when they know how to do a few other things, of great antiquity, which have been transmitted to them from the past. In countries with fertile soil and small-scale agriculture, the inhabitants can remain in the same situation for centuries. They do not seek new knowledge because the relations of production do not require this of them.

A convincing example – which we have not yet mentioned – is provided by those peoples who practice agriculture in the valleys of large rivers which flood periodically: they needed an astronomical calendar and were therefore obliged to study the celestial bodies.

Such were the inhabitants of Egypt, Mesopotamia and China, who arrived at astronomy on account of the Nile, the Euphrates and the Yellow River. Other peoples, who did not experience the need for this knowledge, did not become acquainted with it.

It is, then, the relations of production which drive knowledge and which determine the quantity and the quality of this knowledge.

To verify this truth, the worker only needs to take a look around him once again. Who are the active workers, the ones with a thirst for learning, the ones who are full of the desire for social development? The ones who can understand the role of the proletariat in the context of the process of production, that is, the workers in cities and big industry. Technology, the machine itself, tells them that a socialist society is possible; the vast process of production which they have before their eyes teaches them that the old relations of productions are too narrow for the forces of the machine. New relations must come; as you are equal in terms of rights, you must yourselves take possession of the means of production: these are the words that are shouted in their ears by the modern city. And thanks to these words of the process of production, a desire for knowledge is born in the workers of the cities which is much stronger than that of the rural worker, who does not yet see so much of the new forces of production.

Observation

On the basis of the example of the tropical regions, where the process of production does not spur the search for knowledge, and of the example of the great river valleys, where the desire for knowledge was aroused, the attentive reader sees that historical materialism does not recognize the process of production as the sole cause of this development. Geographical factors have great importance in historical materialism. Thus, and to take one last important example, the process of production would never have developed so vigorously and rapidly in Europe if the latter had a tropical climate and if the soil had provided abundant harvests almost without labor. It is precisely Europe’s temperate climate and its relatively poor soils which obliged its people to work harder and, for that very reason, to acquire an understanding of nature.

Thus, the reproach that the process of production is for the social democrats the only independent motor force is unfounded. Besides climate and the natural qualities of a country, besides the influences of atmosphere and the soil, we shall learn to recognize still other motor forces in the course of our argument.

B. Inventions

There is a domain of science which must be discussed in more detail. That is the domain of technological inventions.

We said: the relations of production rest upon technology. Do we not also thereby admit that the relations of production rest upon the mind?

Of course we do. Technology is the invention and the conscious utilization of tools by thinking man, and when the defenders of historical materialism say that all of society rests upon technology, they are also simultaneously saying that all of society rests upon material and mental labor.

But does this not contradict what we said? Does this not thus convert the mind once again into the leading motor force of social evolution?

If the mind produces technology and technology produces society, then the mind is undoubtedly the first creator.

Let us take an even closer look at this question.

Historical materialism by no means denies that the mind is part of technology. Men are thinking beings. The relations of production, the relations of property, are relations between men; it is within these relations that they act and think. Technology and the relations of property and production are just as mental as they are material. This is not the object of our dispute.

We only deny the autonomous, arbitrary, spontaneous, supernatural and incomprehensible nature of the mind and its activity. We say: if the mind discovers a new science, or a new technology, it does not do so of its own volition but as the result of an impulse or a need of society.

In other times, most technological inventions were made by men who were themselves involved in the process of production. It was their desire to improve the labor process and to make it more efficient in order to make more wealth for themselves or to enrich the whole world!

Whatever the nature of society, whether large or small, nomadic horde or tribe, feudal or capitalist, this desire was social; it was engendered by an economic need. In societies where property was held in common, it was the social desire to do something for the community; in class societies with private property, it was the social desire to do something for the social individual, for the private owner or for the class of private masters.

There is nothing surprising about this. Since man is a social being and man’s labor is social, the desire to improve labor is not something which results from the mind of the individual, but something which derives from his social relations. The desire for an improved technology, for inventions, is a social desire; it is born from social needs.

This is what the defenders of historical materialism say: they deny the independence, the arbitrariness, the preeminence of the mind; they say that existing social need obliges the mind to follow a particular road and that this need is also engendered by specific material relations of production. Therefore, they also deny the absolute mastery of the mind.

This relation between technology and science is so important that we are well advised to pause and give it more thorough consideration.

We shall provide a few detailed examples.

Let us consider a weaver of the Middle Ages. The job done by the weaver is generally sufficient for social needs. Trade, circulation and the foreign market have not yet developed to the point where large-scale productive forces are necessary. The need for them is not yet felt. However, the especially wise weaver cannot neglect his tools, since he knows that a more convenient and efficient manner of production would benefit him personally. He invents a small improvement and implements it. Within his circle, this improvement is noted and imitated. And that is as far as it goes. It is a small change in the process of production which barely signifies a step forward and which might be the only such change for decades or centuries. It was the result of an individual’s need.

Let us suppose, however, that circulation and trade have made great progress (as in the fifteenth, sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, for example), that the foreign market has seen extraordinary growth, and that colonies have been founded which generate a demand for manufactured goods from their home countries; then, the social need and desire for improved technology, and for greater labor productivity, become generalized; then, it is not one man who ponders the subject of technological improvements, but one hundred men who do so; then a new instrument is born as the result of numerous, rapidly-accumulating changes.

Let us consider one of the inventors of the steam engine, Papin, for example.

In many men there is a special talent and love for technology; this is a legacy of millions of years of human evolution; in some men, when the relations of production contribute their stimulus, this love and this talent are most conspicuous. The society in which they live now has a developed technology; they study an improvement which could enhance social productivity. Their social reflection, oriented by this purpose, is devoted to the power of pressurized steam. They imagine a new apparatus based on the old instruments powered by men, animals, water or wind. Their social feeling is so overwhelming, their happiness and their desire to produce something of this sort are so strong, that they sacrifice their time, their health and their wealth to perfect it and to make it accepted.

The generalized need, however, still does not exist; this particular step forward for technology is so big that the price to develop it is too high. The invention is not introduced, the experiments must be stopped and fall into oblivion. The inventor often goes to his grave a ruined man. He certainly did discern a social need, but society had not yet experienced this need or, in any case, it did not feel it sufficiently; the inventor arrived too soon.

Now let us consider an inventor of our time, an Edison. He is a technician; his life consists solely of thinking about technology. But he is not a man born before his time who thinks of what is not yet possible. Society, or in any case the owning classes, wants the same thing he does. For the capitalists, improved technology means a colossal increase in profit. Every invention which makes cheaper and faster production possible is immediately adopted. This increases the power of labor and also allows the latter to pose its own problems, which no longer depend on chance but on its own will.

An Edison’s desire for invention is a social desire, his love of technology is a love engendered in and by society, a social love; the basis upon which he labors is also social; that he is successful and can consciously posit his object in advance, is due to society.

In our days it often happens that new machines are invented but cannot be introduced because they are too expensive. In agriculture, for example, there are excellent machines which, for the most part, remain utterly unutilized or are only used sparingly. The relations of production are still too limited for these new forces. Thus, if an invention arises as the consequence of a social need felt by an individual on the basis of an already-existing technology, nonetheless only those inventions which society needs in practice and which can be introduced in its specific relations will be adopted. Consequently both the birth and the development of the tool are of a social nature. Their roots are not to be found in the mind of the individual but in society.

In conclusion, here is an example drawn from the era when man was only just beginning to fabricate his first tools. It is from Kautsky’s book, Ethics and the Materialist Conception of History. There we read (p.83):

“Ever since primitive man possessed the spear, he could herd much larger animals. If his food had hitherto consisted for the most part of fruits and insects, as well as birds’ eggs and chicks, now he could also kill much larger animals, and henceforth meat became a more important part of his diet. But most animals live on the ground rather than in the trees; therefore, the hunt descended from its airy regions to an earth-bound domain. Even more: the animals which could be hunted, the ruminants, are only rarely found in the virgin forest; they prefer the vast plains of the savannahs. The more of a hunter man became, the more he could leave the virgin tropical forest where prehistoric man was hidden away.”

“This description is, as has been pointed out, based purely on suppositions. The course of evolution could just as well have been otherwise. Just as the inventions of the tool and the weapon could have been capable of impelling man to leave the virgin forest in order to migrate to the open savannah with its scattered woodlands, it could also have been the case that some other cause led man to leave his original abode and thereby presented him with the occasion to invent weapons and tools. Let us assume, for example, that man’s population had increased beyond his ability to feed himself ... or that a drought had thinned out the virgin forests, and that this led to the appearance of more prairies among the forestlands. In any event prehistoric man was compelled to renounce his sylvan ways and move closer to the ground; then he had to seek more animal food and could no longer feed himself on a predominantly fruit-based diet. The new way of life gave him the chance to make more frequent use of rocks and sticks and thus brought him closer to the invention of the first tools and the first weapons.”

“Whatever course of evolution one presupposes, the first or the second – and both could have taken place independently in different locations – one may clearly deduce from each the strict interaction which exists between new means of production and new ways of life, new needs. Each of these factors engenders the other by objective necessity; each is transformed by necessity into the cause of changes which in turn contain new changes within them. Thus, every invention produces inevitable effects which give rise to other inventions and therefore to new needs and new ways of life as well, which in turn stimulate new inventions, etc., a chain of infinite development which becomes always more varied and rapid as it advances and with which the possibility and the likelihood of new inventions increases.”

Kautsky goes on to tell how man, once he arrived on the grassy plains, devoted himself to agriculture, to the construction of dwellings, to the use of fire and to the breeding of cattle, and how, later, “man’s whole life, his needs, his dwelling-places, his means of subsistence, were changed and how an invention had in the end led to many more after it, once it had been discovered, once the fabrication of the spear or some other device was achieved”.

Observation

The invention of new technology, upon which, as we have seen, science rests, takes place through social desire and social need which find their expression in the individual, and can only totally succeed when this need is felt by all of society. Until that moment, however, the mind of the inventor cannot foresee in most cases the invention’s possible consequences.

Did the inventors of the steam engine or even the inventors of the powerful technologies of our time, foresee that the class struggle between labor and capital would become more rigorous and aggravated as a result of their inventions? Do our inventors see that the socialist society must be born from their inventions? All men, even the most brilliant, have to this day been blind to society’s future. They were obliged to act within the framework of social needs. Under capitalism, men became aware of these needs, although only vaguely, but they did not know where the satisfaction of these needs would lead society. They lived in the realm of necessity.

Only in socialist society, when the means of production are collective property, when they are consciously utilized and controlled, only then will man be aware of not only the social forces and needs which oblige him to act, but also the goal towards which his activity leads and the consequences which flow from his activity. Each technological improvement will have as a consequence greater happiness, and more freedom for mental and physical development. No invention will give birth to unforeseen horrible setbacks; all of them will grant individuals the freedom for development towards improvement and will thus continuously improve the conditions for all men’s happiness.

In all actuality, the productive forces, the material relations of production, are pushing us towards socialism and, within the socialist society as well, we will depend upon the productive forces, on the socialist mode of production. Since social existence will always have precedence over the mind, we shall never be free. But if we no longer blindly and passively endure this condition, if we are no longer dragged along by the explosive movement of technology like poor isolated “atoms”, if we consciously produce as a single whole, if we foresee the consequences of our social actions, then we will be free, in comparison with today’s conditions, then we will have passed from the dark realm of blind fate to the magnificent light of freedom. Nor shall we then enjoy absolute freedom, which exists only in the brains of the anarchists and the priests or mystical liberals; we shall be connected to the productive forces at our disposal. But we will be capable of using them in accordance with our common will, in accordance with our collective benefit. And that is all we are demanding.

Second Observation

Naturally, once a science has been called into existence by a social need, it can continue to develop, regardless of its stage of development, without any direct connection to social need. Although the beginnings of astronomy resulted from a social need, it later continued to develop outside of any direct connection to the needs of the life of society. Nonetheless, the relation between a science which has become autonomous, technology and need, must constantly be uncovered if we are not to be limited to just the branches or the blossoms but see the roots of science.

C. Law

Law is about what is mine and what is yours. Law is the general concept of a society to which you, I and the other person belong. As long as the productive forces and the relations of production are stable, these ideas of property will not change. But if the former begin to waiver, the latter will become unstable as well. This is not surprising. For the relations of production are at the same time property relations, as we clearly demonstrated above.

We shall proffer a few important examples, with which everyone is familiar, drawn from our own times, to illustrate these changes.

Not so long ago, in a big city like Amsterdam, it was generally accepted that the provision of lighting and water, as well as transportation, was an occasion for private individuals to make money; gas works, the water supply and streetcars had to be the property of private individuals. Things are different now. Today it is generally acknowledged that these activities, and many other sectors of industry, should be municipally owned. This is a great transformation in the conception of law, in the domain of the mind, which expresses an opinion, a conviction or a prejudice concerning what is mine and what is yours.

Where did this change come from?

It is not hard to show that it came directly from a change in the productive forces. When Holland began to suffer from the influence of big industry and world trade, the situation of the middle class and the working class deteriorated. Their situation became even worse after 1870. These classes of the population reflected upon the question of how to remedy their misery. This led to the birth of a middle class party which was joined by the workers. When this party took power, it introduced municipal ownership so that its members would no longer be bled by the private companies which exploited the gas works, the water system and streetcars.

The new economic relation between big capital, on the one side, and the small businessmen and craftsmen, on the other, which is, basically, the relation between the big machine and the small tool-bench, created for one part of society, for certain classes, a new condition of need. The need for new relations of production was born, thanks to which the new productive forces were to inflict less devastating results. The classes which suffered the effects of these new productive forces managed to take power and introduced new property relations.

This is a relatively minor example. Even though the municipal enterprise (and even the national enterprise) is a completely different form of property compared to the private business owned by one or more capitalists, everyone knows that today’s municipality or State is capitalist and that the benefits of the municipal enterprise or State property cannot be very significant for the ordinary man. But however much the humble folk are conned, fleeced or shaken down by the State as well as by the municipality, they will not be bled quite as shamelessly as they were by the owners of private utilities.

The example of our own movement is of much greater significance and of much greater scope.

Socialism wants to transform the means of production into collective property. There are now millions of socialists where there were practically none a few decades ago. How has such a vast revolution in thought, in the consciousness of so many men, taken place? How has their conception of law been transformed?

Here, the answer is much clearer than in the case of the first example.

Big industry has made it plain to millions of proletarians that, as long as private property in the means of production lasts, they will never have property or well-being. But if private property is transformed into common property, then the road to well-being is open to them. This is why they became socialists.

In addition, crises and overproduction, as well as, more recently, the trusts, with their competition which devours everything and their restriction of production – all these factors which derive directly from the contemporary private ownership of the means of production – have had such an awful effect on the middle classes that even among the latter many consider collective property as the only way to save themselves from poverty, and they became socialists.

With socialism, the direct relation between the change in the productive forces and relations of production, and the change in thought, is evident.

Is it a god which has put socialism into our heads? Is it a mystical spark, a holy spirit? A light which god has shown us, as many Christian socialists would have us believe?

Is it our own free mind which has produced for us this magnificent thought due to the excellence of the mind? Is it our own especially elevated virtue, a secret force within us, the categorical imperative of Kant?

Or is the devil that has instilled in us the desire for collective property? This is what other Christians declare.

None of the above. It is poverty, social misery.

This poverty comes from the fact that the new productive forces, within the straitjacket of the old property relations of the small business of past times, wreak devastation among the workers and the petit-bourgeois. The solution of socialism arises on its own because all the workers and many petit-bourgeois can sense and understand that this devastation would come to an end if they were to collectively own the means of production. Labor is already certainly collective. The fact that their difficulties could be resolved thanks to common ownership is therefore obvious.

Nor can it be said that socialism was contemplated over the course of centuries past and that therefore socialism cannot be an emanation of today’s dominant productive forces, but that the principle of the equality of all men is an eternal ideal which men have dreamed about in every era.

Socialism as conceived by the first Christians was as unlike the socialism sought by today’s working class as the productive forces and class relations of that epoch are unlike today’s productive forces and class relations. The first Christians wanted a common consumption, the rich were supposed to share their surplus of means of consumption with the poor. It was not the soil, the land and the means of labor which were to be held in common, but the products. It was, then, basically a socialism of beggars; the poor, thanks to the goodness of the rich, were supposed to share the products with the latter.

Likewise, Jesus himself never preached anything else, that is, that the rich should give up their wealth. The rich were supposed to love the poor as brothers and the poor were to love the rich in the same way.

Social democracy, on the other hand, teaches that those who possess nothing must fight the owners and seize from them the means of production through political power; it does not want to possess the products in a collective manner – to the contrary, what each receives in the way of products, of objects of consumption, will be for him alone, he need not share it – but it most certainly does want to collectively possess the means of production.

The relations of production of the first centuries of Christianity could not have given rise to our social democratic conceptions, any more than our productive forces are capable of leading us to the Christian ideal. When the productive forces were still so minimal, so fragmented and dispersed in such a way that a greater community could not control them, the only solution to poverty was philanthropy, as miserable and insufficient as it was, since it only alleviated an insignificant part of that poverty. In an era where labor is becoming increasingly social, social ownership is the only means to confront poverty, but now it is also a sufficient means.

Another significant example is provided by criminal law. Here, too, a revolution has taken place in the minds of many men: socialist workers no longer believe in the personal fault of the criminal. They believe that the causes of crime are social rather than personal.

How did they arrive at this new opinion, which neither liberal nor clerical Christianity was capable of discovering?

It was possible thanks to the struggle against capitalism which, as we saw above, rests upon the process of production. Socialist authors were led by the struggle, by their critique of the existing social order, to look for the causes of crime, and they discovered that the causes of crime are rooted in society. It was the process of production and the class struggle which necessarily led them to this understanding.

This awareness is slowly penetrating the minds of socialistically-educated workers.

We cannot provide further examples for reasons of space, but this example once again reveals the revolution which has taken place in the world of thought as a consequence of the change in the relations of production. And how different things are today! It was not so long ago that the world believed in sin, in personal culpability, in free will, in the vengeance of God and men, in punishment; now, socialists – but only socialists – see that, when “the anti-social roots of crime are annihilated, along with capitalist society, and when every person is provided with the social space for his essential life expression”, then social crime will disappear.

Observation

At this point, after examining these examples of changes in thinking about law and property, we now very clearly discern for the first time a law of the evolution of human thought that has not yet been subjected to our closest scrutiny.

We have already seen enough concerning the question of why evolution in thought is engendered by the productive forces, which are its wellsprings and causes. Now, we see how this takes place. Evolution in thought takes place in struggle, in the class struggle. This can be illustrated quite clearly with the same examples of municipal utilities and the socialist conception of property and law which we discussed above.

Big industry made the situation of the petit-bourgeois and the workers extremely difficult. Monopolies controlling the supply of gas and water, taken for granted for years, became increasingly unendurable as big industry continued to expand. The workers and the petit-bourgeois viewed the monopolies as their enemies, and to free themselves from the control of the latter became a vital necessity. The following thought took shape in their minds: what would be just, just to the highest degree, would be for the municipality to control this kind of activity. We, the laboring classes, must fight these parasites. The parasites, on the other hand, thought: it is our right to own these utilities; as a class we will lose all our profits if we allow one profitable business after another to be taken from us. We must fight the laboring classes. It is, then, in the struggle where a new conception of law has evolved. The development of the new productive forces has produced the new class struggle, and this struggle has expanded the new legal consciousness.

And the proletariat, which had the feeling that it was intellectually, morally and physically dying at the hands of big industry, recognized the capitalists as its enemies. First, it thought: we, the workers in this factory, are deprived, we are dying, and our capitalist is our enemy; it is unjust that he receives all the profits and we get nothing. We must fight him. Later, the proletariat of a whole city, or of a particular trade, thought the same thing. And then the proletariat of an entire country and of the whole world. All of them thought: we, as a class, must fight the class of capitalists. It would be right for all the means of production to be in our hands. We shall struggle for our rights.

The capitalists, however, thought precisely the contrary, first individually, then all of them together, in an organized way and as a State. It is right for us to keep what belongs to us. We shall crush these revolutionary ideas. We shall struggle together as a class for our rights.

And the more that technology developed, the more that the productive forces and wealth in the hands of the capitalists constantly grew, the deeper, the more widespread and the less endurable became the poverty among a continuously growing proletariat; and the more that the owners recognized the necessity of preserving their greater wealth, the greater was the necessity asserted by those who owned nothing of seizing the means of production. So also to the same degree the struggle between the two classes has grown sharper and for that same reason so has the power of their ideas concerning what is right and what is wrong become more well-defined.

With this example we see quite clearly that the conceptions of what is right and what is wrong evolve in the class struggle and as a result of the class struggle, and that a class could slowly come to consider something to be wrong which previously seemed right, and that it could also, with the growth of class interests, feel this new sense of what is right and wrong with an increasing passion.

The material struggle for the means of production is simultaneously a spiritual struggle concerning what is right and wrong. The wrong is the mental mirror-image of the right.

Second Observation

It will not of course be necessary to show here that, in this spiritual and material struggle, the victorious class will be the one which, in the end, due to the development of the process of production, will be transformed into the most powerful class, the class with the greatest spiritual power and the greater truth, the class which, as a result of the needs brought about by its situation, will be called upon to resolve the contradictions between the new productive forces and the old relations of production. We shall return to this topic at the end of our treatise. At this time, however, we must set forth another observation which will invalidate an objection of our adversaries.

There are members of the owning classes who pass over to the side of those who have nothing. Does this not prove that it is not social existence which determines thought, but that maybe something eminently spiritual, something mysteriously ethical, is what determines our social behavior?

An individual who passes from the capitalist camp to the proletarian camp could do so for two kinds of reasons, reasons which could also be at work simultaneously. Perhaps he has come to understand that the future belongs to the proletariat. But no one can deny that it is the process of production, i.e., the economic relations, which provided him with this understanding and therefore that it is not in the “freedom” of the mind that one must seek the motive for his action, but in social existence. Or this act could be rooted in sentimental reasons, since, for example, this individual prefers to stand alongside the weak rather than the oppressors. In the course of our discussion of social morality we shall prove that, in this case as well, the determinant sentiments are based on the socio-economic life of men rather than something mysterious, supernatural or absolutely spiritual.

D. Politics

If the socialist conceptions of property and crime provide clear examples of how the productive forces influence thought, how the class struggle arises and how it must be resolved, in politics we encounter examples which are yet more clear.

And in this connection we must also refer to the example of what the socialists think, since it is in their heads that the new productive forces are most vigorously at work.

The new productive forces also powerfully influence the minds of the industrialist, the financier, the wholesaler, the shipbuilder, etc. They think of enormous enterprises, huge profits, the formation of cartels, foreign and colonial markets, the creation of a national navy and a powerful army, in order to increase their influence, their wealth and their power. But regardless of the scale of their thought compared to that of the capitalists and ruling classes of past centuries, the type of thinking they engage in is the same.

The middle classes also think differently than the middle classes of the past. The growth of the productive forces has pushed them in a dangerous direction, into a position where they could fall into the ranks of the proletariat. How to escape this fate – by means of credit, by State aid, through trade unions – this is what they reflect upon, totally unlike their parents. In their minds, things now seem very different from the way they were in the eighteenth century, for example. Their thought, however, moves in the same old direction: profit, profit, private profit!

The mind of the non-socialist worker is also full of feelings quite distinct from those experienced by his counterparts of the first half of the nineteenth century, for example. Higher wages, shorter working hours, State aid, a higher standard of living – this is what he thinks about; it is like a beehive, like a mill-wheel in these non-socialist Christian organizations. This humming and grinding always resounds with the same themes: organization, a higher standard of living. But these men are still treading the old paths; they want to obtain greater benefits from capital, from private property – on the terrain of private property.

Among the socialists, on the other hand, something different is coming to life, something completely new, something which never before existed in the world in this form. Even though they stand on the terrain of private property, they want to abolish private property; even though they are living in a capitalist State, they want to overthrow the capitalist State. Born and raised in the shell of capitalism, their thoughts are of eliminating this shell; their thoughts are of transforming their thoughts into other thoughts. The working class wants to destroy the source of its existence, capital and private property in the means of production. This effect of the productive forces is here completely unlike the effect it has on the other classes, it is much more important, much more profound, and much more radical; and for this reason socialist thought is the best example of the influence of technology on the mind.

Politics is also where the relation between social existence and thought is especially clearly illuminated, because politics contains the will, desire, hope, thought, and intrigues within the State, the whole life of all classes in the modern State, because the citizen, who has political rights in our State, must reflect upon society as a whole as well as its parts, and because he is therefore concerned with literally the entirety of mental life as a result of society’s changes.

What is the most important, the most ubiquitous political issue of our time, the one which could therefore best serve us as an example?

The social question, the question of the struggle between labor and capital.

The question itself arose as a result of capital, that is, due to the development of the productive forces.

And by focusing on the way men think about this question, one can get a better idea of how technological development constrains them to change their way of thinking.

Sixty years ago, for example, how many people would have thought of establishing a maximum legal working day for the proletarians, or of laws protecting women and children, or even a workmen’s compensation disability fund? They were few and far between and those who did contemplate such things had received news concerning such labor protection laws from highly developed capitalist countries. It is most likely that no one even considered such things one hundred years ago.

How did this noble idea, that is, that the proletariat should be protected by society, get into people’s heads?

It is hardly likely that Christian feeling inspired this idea, because prior to the mental transformation which led to its adoption, thousands and thousands of workers died from overwork, illness, poverty and accidents, thousands upon thousands have grown old in poverty. There were, however, plenty of Christians back then. The fact that no one thought of State aid in other times therefore must have some other cause.

And that cause is not hard to discover. In other times, the proletariat was not yet strong and could not compel the owners to do more than provide private alms and a little public assistance.

The fact that, in those days, the proletariat was not yet strong was due to the process of production, which had not yet organized the workers. They were already numerous enough, but they were dispersed in small enterprises and this is why they were only capable of mobilizing small forces.

But when they were constrained by the process of production to work by the hundreds in factories and workshops, they began to become conscious of their power and of how to organize for the struggle, just as they had been organized for labor. And this struggle which was born of the process of production, this obvious phenomenon, led the different classes of society to think, and produced a mental revolution.

This took place first of all, naturally, in England and France, where the new process of production first made its appearance. We shall not pause here to consider these foreign examples; we only wish to show that it was in those countries where, under the influence of the new relations, the utopian socialism of Saint-Simon, Fourier and Robert Owen was born, and where Friedrich Engels, thanks to his knowledge of English production relations, and Karl Marx, thanks to his study of French and English politics, conceived social democratic theory.

But even in Germany one can see the truth of what we have to say about politics.

The workers emerged from the Revolution of 1848 with empty hands. The triune Prussian voting system of Estates[3] left them without any political influence. No laws protected them from the awful consequences of increasing capitalist exploitation.

But at the beginning of the 1860s, the workers began to organize. Rebuffed by the bourgeoisie, they founded, under Lassalle’s leadership, the General Association of German Workers (Allgemeine Deutsche Arbeiterverein – the ADAV), which assumed the leadership of the struggle for equal universal suffrage. The Junker ruling class took note of this; conservative spokesmen made speeches about the supreme mission of the State to protect the oppressed.

The ADAV’s propaganda spread throughout the country. Bismarck introduced universal suffrage, which he had promised before the war against Austria, first in the Confederation of North German States[4] and then in the newly-formed German Empire.

Bebel, Liebknecht and Schweitzer, who were rapidly becoming the spokesmen of the proletariat, were elected to the Reichstag. Trade unions were formed. The number of socialist votes increased with each election. The two fractions of German social democracy merged at Gotha. Due to the growing power of socialism, the ruling class felt increasingly worried, and then anxious. Bismarck tried to squelch the movement with the anti-socialist law.

But the working class could only be vanquished by force. The elections of 1881 demonstrated the law’s ineffectiveness. Something had to be done to contain the spread of dissent. A speech by the emperor announced “a positive improvement in the well-being of the workers.” A hastily-improvised law concerning paid sick leave, proposed before the Reichstag in 1882, was enacted in 1884.

In spite of the anti-socialist law, the socialist movement made great progress. In the elections of 1884, 1887 and 1890, the socialist vote rose from 550,000 to 760,000, then to 1,400,000. The anti-socialist law was jettisoned; Bismarck was dismissed. The legislation proposed in February 1890 promised protection for labor and legal equality of rights for the workers.

What a gigantic reversal in thought! In an entire country, in all classes of the population! Everyone took a stand on the social question, that is, on the class struggle!

And it is obvious that this is related to technological development! Statistics show us that industry developed rapidly in the early 1860s and 1870s, as well as at the end of the 1880s, precisely the years when socialism experienced its fastest rate of growth. One could plot an almost identical graph for the growth of each of the following phenomena: increasing production; the growing army of combatants; and the changing political opinions of the ruling classes. The growth of each one of these factors corresponds to the others; the class struggle obviously derives from technological development.

And how clearly the particular character of this development comes to the fore: struggle. The Emperor and the Chancellor, the ministers and politicians did not arrive at their new ideas by way of Christian sentiment, nor did they do so by way of free will, or the spontaneous and arbitrary operation of reason or under the influence of a spirit from one or another mystical era. It was the workers themselves, upon the basis of their labor, who, through their organization, their propaganda, their struggle, compelled the bourgeoisie to change the contents of their minds.

Here one can disregard all mysticism. The real relations stand out as openly before our eyes as the movements of the planets in our solar system.

The evolution of the minds of the workers originated in technology, and the evolution of the minds of the owning classes derived from the effect exercised upon them by the ideas of the workers, transformed into actions.

This is even more evident in regard to later developments. The workers did not allow themselves to be led astray by government promises and voted in even greater numbers for the social democracy. Those in power understood that more significant reforms than those they were willing to concede would be necessary to seduce such a class conscious working class. The pace of social reform slowed appreciably. The power of the proletariat had become too formidable.

During the nineteenth century, the trade unions had become powerful organizations which wrested many reforms from the capitalists. The owning classes once again considered violent repression; proposals for a coup d’État and prisons were brought up, but no one dared to carry them out.

The organization, the class consciousness, the understanding, and the power of the workers has become so great that the ruling classes despair just as much at the prospect of trapping them with reforms as of oppressing them with force. They are devoting themselves to reinforcing the instruments of their power for the purpose of preparing for the struggle for power. Nowhere has the ruling class, armed to the teeth, presented such a mean visage as in Germany. The reason? It was in Germany, like nowhere else in Europe, where big industry underwent the most precipitous growth in the last few decades, amassed the greatest wealth, and most vigorously developed its technology.

At the risk of generating boredom with too many details, we shall pause to examine these questions a little more closely; it is very much in the workers’ interest to have a profound grasp of them.

Up to this point we have put all the owning classes in the same bag, as if they constituted a single mass in opposition to the proletariat. There are, however, important differences among them, and the development of technology does not have the same effect on all these classes. It is therefore necessary to address these differences.

The material situations and political opinions of the various classes are affected quite variously by technological development. Let us take, for example, militarism and imperialism, on the one hand, and social legislation, on the other.

Intense international competition compels the big capitalists of all countries to support colonialism. When a State already has colonial possessions, that State’s capitalists can then obtain much more wealth in those possessions than in the colonies of other countries. They penetrate their own countries’ colonies much more easily right from the start; it is their State which pushes them forward, which helps them and gives them the best protection. A colony is primarily the object of exploitation by its own metropolis. Labor power is cheap in the colony, violence and intimidation are authorized, and colonial profits are often enormous. Surplus capital in the metropolis can be profitably invested in the colony. This is why, for example, the big German capitalists, who gaze with envy upon the gigantic profits which foreign capitalists are extracting from their colonies, push for the greatest expansion of their own country’s colonial power.

To achieve this, however, military equipment is required, especially the construction of a navy; not just for the subjection of the colonies themselves, but above all in order to oppose the other colonial powers which are pursuing the same goal. This is why the big capitalists are demanding millions for the army and the navy.

But the army has yet another purpose. It has the duty of protecting the owners against the working class which is rising up in a threatening manner. When the workers, the majority of the population, are cohesively organized and rebelling against the existing order, how else could a ruling minority stay in power except by means of a well-equipped, highly-disciplined army, one which blindly obeys its superiors’ orders due to its training and fear of barbaric punishments? Fear of the socialist proletariat leads to the bourgeoisie allocating hundreds of millions to the army.

But there is yet more. The military budget must be as light a burden as possible for the well-off classes, and as heavy as possible for the poorest classes. This is why the owning classes have introduced those indirect taxes which principally affect humble folk, peasants, artisans and workers.

Social legislation would undoubtedly be very costly if all just demands were to be satisfied. It is impossible to completely avoid it out of fear of the proletariat. For the owning classes, however, it must not be too extravagant, and for that reason it is necessarily insufficient, and the workers must in addition bear part of its cost.

This is, then, more or less what the big capitalists, mine-owners and owners of the steel mills, metallurgical plants, and textile mills, and shipbuilders and bankers think.

Now anyone will understand that this class’s inclination in favor of more steel plate and soldiers, and a more powerful colonialism, and its aversion towards beneficial social reforms, will be more powerfully manifested as the stakes get bigger and as the interests of this class become more preponderant. A powerful imperialism and militarism, then, go along with an insufficient social reform policy.

The class of Junkers acts in a similar fashion. Insofar as it is composed of country gentlemen with mostly provincial outlooks, it is indifferent to colonialism and the drive for a powerful navy; but to the extent that these policies offer it new fields of authority with lucrative administrative posts, it is slowly being reconciled, as a government party, to these policies. The army, on the other hand, in which it occupies all the higher ranks, is its own private domain; as long as it is sovereign in the army, it is indispensable to the bourgeoisie as a result of the latter’s fear of the proletariat. Prussia has led the way as a military State; its position as a great power rests upon the army, and this is why the Junkers are always demanding hundreds of millions more for the army.

It is therefore all the more easily understood that the money needed for the army has to be drawn from indirect taxes, and from customs duties, since these customs duties also yield millions personally to the Junkers; without customs duties, they would have gone bankrupt long ago.

The Junkers are deadly enemies of the working class and the worst opponents of social reform. They view the peasants who extracted themselves from their despotism by fleeing to the cities as escaped slaves. A faster-paced rural exodus would amount to an improvement in their situation; and it is only this exodus which obliges the Junkers to set limits to their mistreatment of the agricultural workers, who would otherwise all flee.

The middle class has a different attitude towards this question.

It by no means has such a great interest in armies and navies, and even less in colonies. Trade with the colonies is minor and, as commercial outlets for industry, they have little importance.

The middle class, which is composed of small manufacturers, shopkeepers, craftsmen, and peasants, is fully capable of getting State and municipal jobs, or jobs with the big industrial and trading firms, for those members of its families who cannot be employed in the family business, so that its interest in army, navy and colonies, which is of merely secondary importance, will be further limited.

Most members of the middle class, however, follow the politics of the class above them, and we see the parliamentary representatives of the shopkeepers and the peasants, the centrists and the liberals, generally vote for arsenals, armor plate, and colonial budgets.

Does this not contradict what we said above, that is, that the development of the productive forces totally transforms the needs of men, of classes and, for that very reason, their politics, as well? A German peasant or petit-bourgeois has no great need for colonies and navies: why does he so enthusiastically pay higher taxes for them?

To successfully address this difficulty, we must take into consideration the fact that a large part of the middle class is totally dependent on capital. Not only because it supplies the employees for private and State services, but especially because it lives on credit. The peasants and shopkeepers most of all. Capital which is available because it is surplus capital means cheap credit for them; flourishing industry and trade produce a surplus of capital. Thus, for this part of the middle class, the following tactic prevails: support as much as possible anything the State and capital seem capable of doing: army, navy, colonies.

A large part of the middle class, such as the small manufacturers, artisans who employ manual laborers, peasants who employ servants, and many shopkeepers, live more directly from the exploitation of the workers. With the big capitalists they have in common the exploitation of the workers, and experience it first-hand; if their tax burdens are increased for funding social reform, their existence will become more difficult; this is why they fight against the workers.

A large part of the middle class therefore does not have a direct, but an indirect, interest in militarism and imperialism. It does have a direct interest in the exploitation of the workers.

This is how things stand with that part of the middle class which derives more benefits than inconveniences from capitalism. It is otherwise in regard to that part of the middle class which is closer to the proletariat. The poor peasant, the small-scale tenant farmer, the craftsman of modest means, the owner of a small shop, and the low-level employee, without reliable incomes, also depend on capital, but only in the sense that they are oppressed by it. They have no credit; on the contrary, they are neighbors of the proletariat, upon whose business they must often subsist. They are therefore against militarism and imperialism and, although not quite with the same consistency as the workers, in favor of social reforms.

And as technological development causes the ranks of the proletariat to swell, as the danger increases, for the impoverished middle class, of falling into the proletariat, and the pressure of the State and capital becomes stronger, the thought of these layers of the middle class also changes, its will is increasingly turned against capital.

This part of the middle class thus does not have a direct, but an indirect interest in social reforms.

And since the higher layers of the middle class do not have a direct interest in big capital, and the lower layers do not have a direct interest in social reforms, the political thought of all of these layers is uncertain and fluctuating. It is just as likely for the higher layers to lean a little towards the side of the workers, as it is for the lower layers to lean a little towards the side of the capitalists, and this, of course, temporarily. And these layers easily become the playthings of social climbers and schemers.

The effect of the relations of production and property are here reflected quite clearly.

The working class – we hardly need to point out – has neither a direct nor an indirect interest in imperialism, militarism or colonialism. The latter exploit the workers and make social reforms difficult or impossible. War and national rivalry shatter the international solidarity of the workers, the mighty weapon with which, as we shall prove below, they will defeat capitalism.

Imperialism and militarism are the spoiled and pampered children of the big bourgeoisie, and the mortal enemies of the proletariat. The middle class vacillates between love and hate, and for the most part follows behind the powerful.

Radical social reform is the nightmare of the wealthy, and the springboard to power for the workers. The middle class oscillates between these two poles.

This is how the relations of production and property are reflected in the political ideas of the classes. For modern technology grants big capital the monopoly, the major properties; it makes the middle class dependent on capital or allows it to drift between property and poverty; it deprives the proletarians of all personal property, and all personal power.

The political thought of the classes is the mental reflection of the process of production, with its property relations.

Objection

It seems quite mechanistic to suggest that entire classes of thinking men should be obliged to think the same way. This is what our adversaries put forth as an objection.

But anyone who reflects, even for an instant, upon the fact that the classes are moved by their interest, that their class interest is for them the question of existing or not existing as a class, will be neither surprised nor discomfited by this objection. For classes defend their own existence. If the individual must do everything possible to preserve his existence, this is all the more true of a class which, through its cooperation and social organization, is a thousand times more powerful than an individual.

But each man ultimately conducts the class struggle within the limits of his capabilities. The worker only needs to look around him to note that the lively, passionate mind and the passionate heart are more responsive to the call of highly-developed technology than the languid, the fearful or the cowardly. The technological revolution advances rapidly, men follow behind a little more slowly. In the end, however, the masses follow, in the end the whole world follows. The power of the social forces of production is omnipotent.

Today one plainly sees millions of proletarians following modern technology, at first slowly, then faster, and joining the social democracy en masse.

The individual therefore has great importance in the evolution of society; the energetic, the passionate, the sensitive, the brilliant, and the diligent, accelerate the progress of a class, while the fools, the slow and the indifferent, retard it; but no man, however brilliant, active or ardent he may be, can divert society in a direction opposed to technological development, and no imbecile, no slacker or apathetic person, can halt the current. Social existence is omnipotent. The individual who resists it is crushed, and his resistance itself will be determined by social existence.

[Text continues]

Notes

1. Neue Zeit, XXII, 1, p.5.

2. A Plot against the International, 1874, p.33.

3. Dreiklassenwahlrecht: in this voting system introduced by Frederick Wilhelm IV in Prussia in 1849 and which was in effect in that State until 1918, the lower chamber (Landtag) was elected by indirect universal suffrage, but the higher chamber was divided into three estates and representation in this chamber was proportional to the taxes paid by the three estates, so that more than 80% of the electorate elected less than one third of the deputies. (Note from the French translation)

4. Norddeutsche Bund: a Federation of 22 German States located north of the Main, created on Bismarck’s initiative after Prussia’s victory over Austria, and implemented in 1867.

E. Customs and Morality

Now that we have finished with the so-called lesser domains of the mind, we shall move on to the so-called higher domains: customs, social morality, religion, philosophy and art. These domains are set above the others by the ruling classes because the latter are all-too connected to matter, while the former seem to soar above all material things. Law, politics and natural science, although mentally elevated, nonetheless deal only with the terrestrial, with material relations and things, things which are often ugly. Religion, on the other hand, along with philosophy, religion, morality and art, seems to be purely mental, beautiful and sublime. A lawyer, a parliamentarian, an engineer or a professor seems less noble than an artist, a priest or a philosopher.

We should not want to give our support to this classification. But it is true that, for us as well, art, philosophy, religion and morality are more difficult domains. Precisely due to the fact that the ruling classes have transformed these domains into supernatural, purely mental spheres, without any link to the earth or society, and because this opinion has insinuated itself into everyone’s mind as a prejudice, it is more difficult to demonstrate in this case as well the relation between thought and social existence. We must be twice as lucid in this case, since it affects the interests of the workers twice as much. To grasp the truth on this point makes for tough fighters.

We shall begin with the simplest of the four domains: customs. Here one must clearly distinguish between customs and morality. Customs constitute prescriptions for particular cases, while morality is something general. Among the civilized peoples, for example, it is customary not to go about completely naked, while to love your neighbor like yourself is morality. We shall deal with the simplest morality after having examined customs.

Two clear, very general examples, drawn from our era, and which the worker always has before his eyes, show how customs are transformed by the change of the relations of production.

In the past it was customary for the working class not to bother with public affairs. Not only did the workers have no influence on the government, they did not even think about it. It only drew their attention during times of great tension, during a war against the foreigner or when the kings, the princes, the nobility, the clergy or the bourgeoisie fought among themselves; then, everyone tried to win the workers over to their side; there were thus moments when the workers felt that their interests were also at stake; they would then participate, or allow themselves to be used. But this never led to an enduring political interest among the workers.

All of this is totally different now. Not only do many workers participate in political life but, in the countries where the proletariat has been educated by social democracy, the proletariat has become the class which is most actively involved in politics.

In the past, it was customary for the worker to stay home during the evening; now, the custom is – increasingly so – for the worker to go to a union or party meeting or a gathering of his proletarian cultural association at this time of day.

These customs result from class interest, and class interest is born as a consequence of property relations. In the past it was also in the interest of the ruling classes for the workers to be moderate, peaceful, modest and humble, and for them not to worry about politics except on special occasions. And because the working class was weak due to the technological level of those times, it allowed this status to be imposed upon it by the ruling classes. The priests, government lackeys, schools and, later, the newspapers, preached this attitude to the workers.

The interest of the working class is different now; technology has transformed it, and also made it strong enough to stop listening to the bosses. Thanks to class interest, customs have changed: now, the worker who is not organized is a dull and indifferent worker, a bad worker; but the passionate man who fights for the organization is a good worker.

Therefore – and is this not clear for everyone? – someone is classified as good or bad in accordance with the current custom.

Today the opposite of what was good in other times is good. To be outside, in the street, in a meeting or at a demonstration, is now good. For now technology promises victory to the working class, and the victory of the workers is good for them and good for all of society.

When our comrade Henriette Roland-Holst said that the conceptions of good and bad “are a game of musical chairs”, she was never forgiven. But a steady examination of the facts, instead of righteous indignation at the drop of a hat, leads to the observation that different peoples and classes – or the same peoples and classes in different eras – have called the same things good or bad. All of history is replete with such instances. Here we shall only call attention to the customs which regulate the relations between the sexes and marriage, which are different for different peoples and classes or vary from era to era.

Now let us take another very general example drawn from our era. Besides the working class which aspires to advancement, another part of humanity is seeking the freedom of social mobility: women. How did it come about that women, who until not so long ago were educated solely with a view towards domestic labor and marriage, are also striving, hundreds of them, for another goal: a field of activity in society?

In the proletarian woman, this is a result of big industry. Machine labor is often so easy – even if it becomes hard as a result of its duration – that women and children can do it. The father’s wages were not enough; the women and children had to go to the factory so that, thanks to their efforts, the family’s pay would be sufficient. This is how proletarian women entered the factories and their number has been increasing ever since.

As a consequence, the contents of the minds of women have changed. The socialist idea, the highest point of the labor which they carry out, has also insinuated itself into their heads. In some countries, like Germany, proletarian women have come a long way along the road of socialist organization; they have begun to take this road in every capitalist country. The working class women and the young workers have become comrades in struggle with the men in the political party and the trade union! How unlike other times, when the woman sewed, washed clothes, cleaned the house and took care of the children, and never did anything else!

And it has also gotten into the heads of the socialist women of the working class that there will be a time when women and young people will be completely autonomous socially, and completely free as producers. In the society of the future, no one, neither male nor female, will have a master, either in marriage or in the workplace, anywhere. Individuals will rub elbows as free and equal beings.

And this idea, too, was given to women by the process of production.

The bourgeois woman also aspires to freedom. For her, as well, this idea comes from the process of production. First of all, when big industry took off, women’s housework was diminished. Big industry produced all kinds of things so cheaply, such as lighting, heat, clothing, and food, that no one needed any longer to make these things or prepare them at home; secondly, competition has been so fierce that the wives and children of the petit-bourgeoisie have had to go to work and have sought positions in schools, offices, telephone switchboards, pharmacies, etc.; thirdly, among the bourgeoisie the number of marriages has been reduced due to the violent struggle for existence, desires for a better life and the search for pleasure and luxury. All of these things are consequences of the modern mode of production.

This is why the mind of the bourgeois young woman is oriented towards greater social mobility; her thought has been modified. Compared to her grandmother, she is a new human being.

While the proletarian woman, as a result of the place she occupies in the social process of production, has in mind the liberation of the proletariat and, for that very reason, the liberation of all of humanity, the bourgeois feminist only thinks of the liberation of the bourgeois woman. She wants to lead her to power within bourgeois society; she wants to give her capitalist power, which is evidently only possible if she economically and politically oppresses the workers as energetically as the male bourgeoisie currently oppresses them.

The feminist does not want “to free woman from property, but to procure for her the freedom of property”, she does not want “to free her from the filth of profit, but to give her the freedom of competition”. The working class woman wants to free herself and all the other women and all men from the pressure of property and competition and thus to really free all human beings.

Even if the contents of the minds of these two women are as different as a lamp is compared to the full light of the sun, their thoughts are nonetheless born from the process of production; their thoughts are only distinguished by the different property relations in which the two “sisters” find themselves.

What passionate feelings are inspired in us by the complete liberation of woman, the liberation of the worker, the liberation of humanity! What passion and what resolve they awaken in millions of people, what wellsprings of energy they cause to flow within us! And what magnificent golden and sunset-colored dreams they bring us in the hours of rest that follow after the fight! It might seem that it is the mind of man which has, by its own effort, given birth to all this energy, this mad combativity and these enchanting dreams! But let us never forget, dear friends, that this powerful will of the proletariat, this joy in victory and this stubborn hope after defeat, this extravagant idealism of the workers – the most elevated, the greatest and the most magnificent, yes, the most magnificent by far, because it is the most conscious and therefore the most profoundly idealist expression of the mind that the world has ever known – that these most beautiful mental phenomena are of a piece with labor, with the tools of labor, which, for their part, are rooted firmly in the earth.

These two examples show, on the basis of the two most important changes to affect customs in our time, just how correct our doctrine of historical materialism is. Now we shall address general morality. Before we do so, however, in order to prepare the ground for this next step, and to make the whole issue more comprehensible, we shall first take an example which is not one of the customs of the everyday world of work, like attending workers meetings or female office work, nor is it part of those supposedly higher realms of morality, like loving one’s neighbor, love for the truth, etc.

We shall use love of one’s country, patriotism, as a bridge between these phenomena.

In this feeling as well, in this thought, we see that a powerful transformation has taken place in our times and, once again, it has principally affected the workers.

In the past, when the working class did not yet represent any kind of autonomous social force whatsoever, it was patriotic, that is, it did not know any better than to follow the ruling classes of its respective countries in wars with foreign powers. It is true that it is not likely that the proletarians of years past and the sons of the peasants and the bourgeoisie of other eras, who enlisted in the army or the navy, did so out of a passionate love for their fatherlands. The majority did so as a result of coercion and poverty, through lack of a better way to earn a living, but the working classes could hardly have known how to do anything else then, or even what they should have done. The idea never arose in their minds that they could declare themselves to be an autonomous force against war and prevent it, even when the ruling classes wanted war, since they were politically and economically an appendage of the ruling classes. They were not strong enough either numerically or organizationally to form their own idea concerning this question, and even less so when it came to implementing such an idea in practice. Even where they fought to preserve the peace, they habitually did so as defenders of a part of the ruling classes, who saw more advantages to be gained from peace than from war, and carried out their struggle under the slogan that this would be good for the fatherland, that this idea and this activity constitute the real love for the fatherland.

In reality neither war nor such love for the fatherland were very often of any sure use or advantage to the working classes in general. In the past, just like today, it was they who often had to foot the bill with their blood, their lives, and their modest possessions which were torn from them by means of burdensome taxes or which were devastated by war. Even so, in their conceptions they followed the ruling classes and embraced the slogans that were preached to them, such as love for the independence of their country, love of the fatherland or the reigning dynasty, without offering any well-delineated opposition.

How all this has changed! In every country one can daily witness the increase in the number of workers who understand that wars against civilized and uncivilized peoples are only fought for the benefit of the bourgeoisie; that the bourgeoisie only preaches love for the fatherland in order to make the workers docile tools of war; that the end and result of all wars is augmented pillage of the working class or the spread of exploitation to even more workers; that an international war of the peoples is a danger for the workers of the victor nation as well as the vanquished.

“War” – so thinks the modern worker – “is in the interest of the bourgeoisie. Production, that is, the capital invested in production, has become so enormous that it seeks markets and territories as destinations for its money and wants, by means of war, to eliminate some and find a distant use for the rest. But it cannot succeed without collecting ever more burdensome taxes, paying me a lower wage, making me work harder and longer and not providing me with any reforms, or giving me regressive reforms. It is in my interest, on the other hand, to have higher wages, shorter working hours, and progressive legislation and not to have to bear customs duties on foodstuffs or taxes on consumer goods. I must therefore be against war. Furthermore, it is in my interest for my comrade on the other side of the border to enjoy the same benefits, since in that case the industry of his country would not be able to compete unfairly with poverty wages; then, their trade union will become stronger and I will be able to use it as a model to reinforce my trade union and I could even join an international union. And if the workers political party is powerful there, this will be a stimulus for us to make ours stronger as well, and we will be able to form an international association of all the workers political parties with the same goal and for mutual aid. But if war breaks out, our economic power will be annihilated and the bourgeoisie will sow hatred among us.”

The development of industry and world trade has transformed the workers into an autonomous force capable of achieving its goal on its own. But this development, because it has caused capital to metamorphose into a vast power which overwhelmingly dominates every country, has resulted in a situation where the workers can only defeat capital if they act internationally. It is impossible for the workers of one country to defeat their capitalists without the capitalists of the other countries moving heaven and earth to come to the aid of their class comrades. This is now made crystal clear by the international employers’ federations. Taking these causes and motives into account, the socialist workers have come to understand that love for the fatherland is no longer their slogan, and that they must take up the watchword of workers international solidarity.

Technology, that is, the currently-attained stage of development of the process of production, makes it necessary for the capitalists of each country either to monopolize the colonial markets, or to obtain the largest possible share of these markets for themselves.

Technology, that is, the currently-attained stage of development of the process of production, makes it necessary for the workers of each country to stand in opposition to this trend because war and colonialism are always accompanied by an increase in the exploitation of the proletariat.

Although all the capitalists are fighting among themselves over markets, technology has reconciled their interests wherever it is essential to oppress the workers.

Technology has organized the workers of every country and has showed them that their interests are the same for all of them wherever it is a matter of expressing the solidarity of all the workers.

Therefore, the owners are for war and oppression of the workers, the workers are for international prosperity and international workers unity.

The working class is therefore certainly not patriotic in the same way as the bourgeoisie, that is, in the sense which has always been attributed to this word under capitalism and which means: love only for your own country; scorn, disdain or hatred for the foreign country.

Modern capitalism is exclusively patriotic out of greed. It does not really consider patriotism to be a virtue, nor does it really think the fatherland is sacred, since it definitely stole the fatherlands of the inhabitants of Transvaal, the Philippines, India, the Dutch East Indies, China, Morocco, etc. It imports Poles, Galicians, Croats and Chinese in order to put pressure on the wages of its compatriots, who are sons of the same fatherland.

It demands of the oppressed class a love for the fatherland which it does not itself feel. The bourgeoisie’s love of the fatherland is greed and hypocrisy.

Such a love for the fatherland is undoubtedly totally foreign to the socialist proletariat.

Basically, all love of the fatherland as it is understood by the bourgeoisie is foreign to the worker.

Naturally, the worker wants to preserve his language, which is the only one with which he can find work. But this is not the patriotism which the bourgeoisie demands of him. The worker also loves the natural surroundings, the climate and the air of his country, amidst which he was raised since infancy. But this is not the patriotism which the bourgeoisie requires of him, either. The patriotism which the bourgeoisie wants to impose upon the worker is the patriotism thanks to which the worker docilely allows himself to be used as an instrument of war by the bourgeoisie and allows himself to be massacred by the bourgeoisie when the latter is defending its profits, or is trying to grab the profits of other capitalists or the property of unarmed populations. This is bourgeois patriotism, and it is completely foreign to the socialist workers. In the bourgeois sense of the word, the worker has no fatherland.

Whenever international incidents break out the worker asks himself, what is in the workers’ interest, and this, and only this, determines his judgment.

And since at this time the interest of the class of workers demands a general preservation of peace, the policy of the workers presents itself as the means of protecting all nations. If peace endures and the working class comes to power in every country, then there is no longer any possibility that one country will conquer another; next, it would only be a matter of the progressive disappearance of borders and disputes, by organic methods, without violence. Until that point is reached, international social democracy assures the existence of every nation.

And in those rare cases where the proletariat approves of a war – to destroy despotism, in Russia for example – it will not be the patriotism of the bourgeoisie that will be put to work, but the love of the international proletariat.

The working class, which is blazing the trail to socialism, can calmly oppose its goal to the chauvinist patriotism of the bourgeoisie, which pursues filthy lucre, and its hypocritical pacifist farces: the international unity of the workers and therefore of all men, eternal peace for all peoples. The bourgeoisie’s goal is limited, just as a country or a little piece of land is limited in relation to the planet; but it is also false and unattainable because the capitalist owners of the countries fighting over the spoils will continue to fight among themselves as long as there are spoils to be had. The goal of social democracy is sublime, pure and resplendent, but it is also really attainable; the working class cannot desire anything but peace among the workers since peace is in their interest and is also the precondition of their victory.

What a change in comparison with the past! The worker of the past thought by slavishly following the lead of the limited ideas of his masters; today’s worker embraces the world, all of humanity, he is independent of his masters and fights against them.

And the machine brought about this whole transformation; it is the machine that is responsible, since it engendered and organized millions of proletarians.

Observation

We have already discussed above the fact that the patriotism of the working classes was in past times derived not from their interests, but from the interests of the ruling classes, whose dependants they were. And so it will always be: as long as a class does not have the power to defend its most profound real interests, as long as the interest of another class is in the last instance its own interest, its thought will be largely determined by the thought of the ruling classes. The patriotism of the past was a clear example of this, and still is in many instances. “The ruling ideas of an era”, Marx says, “have always been the ideas of the ruling classes”. But from the moment when the oppressed class gets the chance, in a revolution for example, to display its most profound interests, it shows its most profound spirit and rejects the ideas which were imposed upon it by its rulers. And as a class becomes stronger by degrees, in such a way that it can defend its own interests, its world of feelings and thoughts are expressed in an increasingly vigorous manner and, finally, openly and brazenly, without false modesty.

Now we shall address the topic of the “higher” domains of morality. The desire for improvement on the part of the worker, the desire for social juridical equality with men on the part of the woman, and patriotism, are only lower feelings in relation to disinterestedness, the love for one’s neighbor, devotion, loyalty, honesty, and justice.

These latter virtues pertain to the higher morality, they are morality itself.

What are these virtues? Where do they come from? Are they eternal, have they always lived in men’s hearts, or are they just as mutable as all the other mental phenomena we have discussed?

These questions have remained insoluble for man for centuries, since the Greek philosopher Socrates and his contemporaries first posed them.

They also present a special difficulty.

For there is a voice in us which immediately tells us, in many cases, what is good and what is bad. Acts of love for one’s neighbor and of self-denial are spontaneously produced on their own, on the command of this voice. It spontaneously and imperatively prescribes love of truth, faithfulness, and probity for us. Our conscience warns us when we do not listen to this voice. We are proud of ourselves when we have done good deeds, even when no one is aware of them. Moral law and the precepts of duty live in us, and neither education nor the feeling of pleasure can fully explain them.

This imperative and spontaneous character is a specific trait of ethics and morality. No other mental domain possesses such a character, not the natural sciences, law, politics, religion or philosophy, which everyone has to learn because it could not be otherwise.

Attempts have been made to derive moral law from the individual’s own experience, from his education, his habits, desire for happiness, a refined egoism or sympathy for others. But no one has ever managed in this way to explain either the origin of that which is imperious in the voice which calls upon us to love our neighbor, or that which is marvelous in the fact that a man could disregard his own existence to save another’s.

Since morality cannot be derived from experience, there is nothing left but the habitual refuge of ignorance: religion. Since morality cannot be explained by the earthly road, its origin must be sought in the supernatural. God gave man the sense of the good, the notion of good; evil comes from the carnal nature of man, from the material world, from sin.

The incomprehensibility of the origin of “good and evil” is one of the causes of religion. The philosophers Plato and Kant constructed a supernatural world upon this fact. And even today, when nature is much better understood, when the nature of society appears much more clearly before man’s eyes, even today morality, the desire “for good”, the aversion towards “evil”, are in the end so marvelous for many men that they can only explain it by a “divinity”. How many men no longer need God for an explanation of natural phenomena or history, but declare that God is necessary for “the satisfaction of their ethical needs”? And they are right because they understand neither the origin nor the nature of the great moral precepts, and what is not understood but nevertheless considered to be something very noble, is deified.

The noblest moral precepts have been understood, however, in regard to both their nature and their effect, for half a century. We owe our understanding of them to two investigators: the first studied man in his animal existence, the other studied man in his social existence – Darwin and Marx.

Darwin showed that all organisms carry out a struggle for existence against the natural world around them, and that only those organisms survive which acquire the most suitable specific organs for their defense and for their nourishment, and whose organs attain the best division of labor, and are best adapted to the outside world. A large part of the organic world, comprising the animals, has developed in the struggle for existence and has by means of that struggle developed its freedom of movement and its ability to learn. The ability to learn is composed of observation of the details of the environment, discernment of what is similar and what is different in the environment, and the memory of what previously took place. By means of the struggle for existence, the instincts of self-preservation and reproduction have become increasingly more powerful, as have the division of labor, freedom of movement and thought. This is how the instinct of maternal love evolved. Among the animals that, in order to prosecute the struggle for existence, must live together in societies of greater or lesser size – such as some carnivores, many herbivores and, among the latter, the ruminants and many primates – the social instincts evolve. Man also belongs among these species; man, for his part, has only been able to preserve his existence in nature by social means, by living in groups or hordes, and this is also how the social instincts have evolved in man.

But which social instincts have formed in man and animals due to the struggle for existence and have become stronger thanks to natural selection? “They could be different due to the different living conditions of the various species, but a series of instincts constitutes the precondition for the development of any society.” There are instincts without which a society cannot survive and therefore these instincts must be developed in every species which, in order to assure its continuation, must live socially, like man. What are these instincts?

“Above all, self-abnegation, devotion to the community.” If this instinct had not arisen, each person would have lived for himself, and would not have put the community above himself; society would have perished under the blows of the natural forces of the environment or hostile animals. If, for example, in a herd of buffalos, each individual did not devote himself to the collective by resisting when a tiger attacked the herd and taking his place in the circle of his comrades, if every individual fled to save his own life without worrying about the community, then that society would be destroyed. This is why spontaneous self-sacrifice is the first social instinct which must arise in such an animal species.

“Then, bravery in the defense of common interests; loyalty to the community; the individual’s subjection to the will of the community and thus obedience or discipline; truthfulness towards society, whose safety would be endangered or whose forces would be squandered when led into error, for example, by false signals. Finally, ambition, receptivity to the praise or condemnation of society. All are social instincts we already find in a developed state in animal societies, often in a highly-developed state.

“But these social instincts are nothing but the most eminent virtues, morality itself. All that is lacking at the highest level among them is love of justice, that is, the desire for equality. In fact, there is no place for such an evolution in animal societies, because they only know natural and individual inequalities, but not social inequalities produced by social relations.”

This love of justice, the desire for social equality, is therefore a property found only in man.[5]

Moral law is a product of the animal world; it already existed in man when he was still a gregarious animal; it is very old, since it has existed in man for as long as he has been a social being, that is, for as long as he has existed.

Men have only been able to overcome nature by mutual aid. Men owe everything to mutual aid, to this moral desire for mutual aid, to this moral law, to this social instinct.

Moral law has spoken in them since the beginning.

“Hence the mysterious nature of this voice in us which, without external stimulus, is not connected to any visible interest ... It is certainly a mysterious desire, but no more mysterious than physical love, maternal love, the instinct of self-preservation, the nature of the organism and so many other things ... which no one would consider to be products of a supersensory world.”

“Moral law is an animal instinct just like the instincts of self-preservation and reproduction, hence its force, its energy, which we obey without thinking, hence our rapid decision in certain cases where it is a matter of knowing whether an action is right or wrong, virtuous or immoral, hence the determination and the energy of our moral judgment, hence the difficulty in providing a basis for it when reason begins to analyze actions and question their motives.”

Now we clearly see the nature of duty, we see what conscience is. It is the voice of the social instincts calling us. And among these social instincts, at the same time the voices of the instincts of self-preservation and of reproduction also echo, and it often happens then that these two instincts enter into conflict with the voice of the social instinct. When, afterwards, the instincts of reproduction and self-preservation become silent because they are satisfied, then the social instinct often still resounds, but this time as remorse.

“There is nothing more mistaken than to see in conscience the voice of the fear of one’s peers, their opinion or their physical force. This voice also acts – as we said above – in relation to actions which no one has experienced, and even in connection with actions which appear quite praiseworthy in their surroundings, and can also act as the agent of repulsion in relation to actions which have been undertaken out of fear of one’s peers and their public opinion. Public opinion, praise or blame, are certainly very influential factors, but their effect already presupposes a particular social instinct, ambition; they cannot produce social instincts.”

One can thus see how easy it is to explain this apparently so marvelous domain of the mind, which embraces the highest precepts of morality, how false it is to resort to the supernatural to do so, and how clear it is that the causes of morality are to be found in our earthly animal and human existence.

This, then, is the nature of morality; this understanding we owe most of all to Darwin. But why are the great virtues so different among the different peoples and eras? How can these social instincts have such different effects in each case?

Darwin did not examine this question. We owe our knowledge of this matter above all to Marx.

It was Marx who discovered the principal causes of the change in the effects of the social instincts with reference to the centuries of written history, the era of private property, and the era of commodity production.

Marx made it clear that, due to private property which, in turn, is a product of the development of technology, of the increasing division of labor thanks to which manual labor has been separated from agriculture, classes were born, those of the owners and those of the non-owners, whose members have, from the origins of classes down to the present, waged a struggle among themselves for the products and the means of production. Marx has demonstrated that, from non-stop technological development a non-stop struggle is born. He thereby identified the causes, the most important ones for the modern era, of the changes in the effect of moral precepts.

First of all, competition arises among the private owners, even if they belong to the same class. And this rivalry has a deadly effect on the highest moral precept, the one that states that one must help one’s neighbor, that is, that an individual must sacrifice himself for another. This precept becomes a dead letter in a society which rests upon competition. In such a society, the precept becomes an abstract precept of other-worldly, exclusively heavenly origin, which is delightfully beautiful but which is not followed, and, strictly speaking, is only for Sunday, when shops and factories are closed and only the church is open. It is not possible to accept the market, a position in the firm, work, engaging in competition, and at the same time to obey the internal voice which has been whispering to us since prehistoric times that we must help our neighbor, since two are stronger than one. It is impossible, and any doctrine that says that it can and must be this way leads to hypocrisy.

In his analysis of the commodity and of capitalist production, Marx discovered that the character of those men who produce their products as commodities in isolation from one another must necessarily be hostile and alienated, as a result of relations not between men, but between things, bolts of cloth, sacks of coffee, tons of minerals, mountains of gold; Marx thus shows us the true relation prevailing among men, the real relation and not the one that exists in the poet’s imagination or the priest’s homilies.

Secondly, however, technological development and the division of labor created human groups whose members, although often competing with one another, nonetheless have the same interests in opposition to other groups: social classes. Landowners as opposed to industrialists, and employers as opposed to workers, have the same interests. Although they may inflict mutual harm upon one another on the market, all the landowners have the same interest in the struggle for the tariff laws on grain, all the industrialists have the same interest in the struggle for protectionist legislation in favor of industrial products, and all the business owners have the same interest in opposition to progressive social legislation for the workers.

Therefore, the class struggle in reality is fatal to a good part of morality, since the moral precept cannot apply to a class which is trying to destroy or weaken our class, and since that class is capable of experiencing neither support for nor loyalty to our class. Within the domains of the class struggle, there can be no question of any moral precepts whatsoever except within a class; the highest moral precept is just as inapplicable to another class as it is towards the enemy in war. Just as no one ever thinks of sacrificing himself for the enemy during wartime, so it would never occur to anybody to help a member of enemy class. Just as it is true that among certain animal species the moral precept only applies to the members of the same herd, so amongst the primitive lineages of humanity it only applied to the members of the tribe, so too in class society it only applies to class comrades, and this only to the extent allowed by competition.

As a result of technological progress and the accumulation of vast wealth on the one side, and legions of propertyless proletarians on the other side, the class struggle between owners and non-owners, capitalists and workers, is becoming increasingly more acute and violent in our era. These days, then, as time passes, it becomes less and less possible for the classes to mutually observe the highest moral precepts. The other great instincts, however, self-preservation and the reproduction of the species, have far and away taken the lead ahead of the ancient social virtues. The instinct of self-preservation leads the capitalist classes to an ever more obdurate denial of providing the workers with what is necessary. They sense that, in a not-too-distant future, they will have to yield everything, all their possessions, all their power, and, out of fear of giving even one inch in that direction, they are increasingly less disposed to yield anything at all. Nor does the worker feel love for his neighbor in regard to the capitalist, since the instincts of self-preservation and love for his children drive him to attack the capitalists and thereby win a magnificent and happy future.

Technological development, the expansion of social wealth and the ongoing progress in the division of labor have advanced so far, and the owning and non-owning classes have become so distanced from one another, that the class struggle “has been transformed into the essential, the most general and the most long-lasting form of the struggle for existence of the individuals in society.”

With increasing competition, our social feeling, our feelings with respect to the members of our society, that is, our morality, is in decline. With the class struggle, our social feelings towards the members of the other classes, that is, our morality with respect to them, is undergoing the same degree of attenuation, but with respect to the members of our own class it has become much stronger.

For the class struggle has already reached such a point that, for the members of the most important classes, the good of their class has become identical with the public good, with the good of all of society. In the name of the public good, one only relies upon one’s class comrades and one resolutely prosecutes the struggle against the other classes.

If, therefore, the nature of the highest morality consists of self-denial, bravery, loyalty, discipline, attachment to the truth, a sense of fairness and the aspiration to respect and glorify one’s neighbor, the effect of these virtues or instincts is continually transformed due to property, war, competition and class struggle.

In order to make this as clear as possible, we shall now apply what we learned from Darwin and Marx to a particular example, from our own immediate environment.

Let us imagine a business owner, the owner of a factory which he also manages, who is engaged in fierce competition with his class colleagues. Can this man follow the highest precepts of morality, those precepts which, according to the bourgeoisie, are eternal, with respect to his class colleagues, the owners of the competing factories? No, he must attempt to preserve or expand his own market share. He can do this by fair or foul means, but he must do this. Perhaps he is by nature a person with a highly-developed social sense, but he does not pay attention to this sense, because his instinct of self-preservation and his concern for his offspring will overwhelm this social sense. In competition, it is often of vital importance to preserve one’s market share, and to get more customers. Stagnation amounts to decline.

As competition becomes more acute, that is, as technology and the world market continue to develop, this manufacturer will have less social feeling, he will more obsessively think about self-preservation, that is, the greatest possible profit. The more acute the competition, the greater the danger of failure.

Can this manufacturer follow the highest precepts of morality with respect to his workers? The question is ridiculous. Even if he is a good man by nature, even if he has an especially strong feeling for those who suffer, he will nonetheless be obliged to give his workers a low enough wage to ensure that his factory will produce a big profit for him. No profit, or a small profit, signifies stagnation. The business must grow, now and then it must be modernized; if not, in a few years it will fall behind the other businesses and, after ten years, it will not be competitive. It is therefore necessary to engage in exploitation, and even the gentlest measures, the most favorable for the workers, must also be such that in the end they do not harm the product, profit. We are considering the case of a capitalist who still feels something for his personnel; most are not like that; for most of them, social feeling was killed long ago by the quest for profit, and those who employ more favorable methods also often do so out of guile, out of a well-considered personal interest, in order to chain the workers all the more firmly to the factory and to make them into slaves who will produce even more.

Let us now suppose that the class of workers begins to struggle against this capitalist and his class, that trade unions are formed and strikes break out, that one or another demand is more or less violently asserted; then all social feeling will slowly disappear in this capitalist and his class with regard to those among their contemporaries who constitute the personnel of their businesses; then class hatred towards the workers will be awakened in them and, wherever there is a struggle with the workers (that is, outside of the ongoing competition), class solidarity with the other capitalists will develop.

And this is also subject to change; this spiritual atmosphere becomes denser as technological development proceeds and as the violence of the class struggle simultaneously increases.

Let us suppose that this manufacturer becomes a member of a syndicate, a trust or a cartel. This is what he often must do for purposes of self-preservation. Then he assumes the role of despot over his workers who, because his trust has a monopoly, can only find work in that trust and are as a result totally dependent upon it. This capitalist then proceeds to treat his workers in the manner required by his syndicate. When a restriction of production is necessary, the slave is thrown out of work; if circumstances are more favorable, he is called back to the factory; it is not generosity, or love of one’s neighbor, but the world market which decides. As we write this, we are witnessing what may be an unprecedented mass layoff of workers. The American trusts are throwing them onto the streets by the hundreds of thousands. And things are no better for the workers in Europe. In most of these capitalists, a social feeling towards the workers no longer exists.

Now let us take as a second example a politician to whom the capitalist classes have confided the advocacy of their interests in a legislative assembly. Can this person follow the loftiest, allegedly eternal morality with respect to the working class? No, not even if he wanted to do so. For equity, that is, the aspiration to give everyone equal rights, is a moral precept of the highest order. But the capitalist class would perish as such if it were to give equal rights to the workers. Equal rights means, first of all, equal political rights and, secondly, the common ownership of the land and the means of production. As long as the latter does not prevail, there is no higher law, there is no supreme justice. Could a bourgeois politician achieve such a goal? No, because to do so would be class suicide. He must refuse.

The more passionate the class struggle becomes as a result of technological development, the more numerous, powerful and organized the workers become, the more clearly the possibility of their rule appears, the more determined must the bourgeois politician be to refuse to do anything meaningful on behalf of the workers. The bourgeois politicians must silence their social feeling for the workers and only listen to the voice of self-preservation. Just as it is for the individual capitalist, it is a question of life and death for the whole class.

But as social feeling towards the workers disappears, a feeling of solidarity with the other owning classes is born in the bourgeois politician – we assume he is a representative of one of the owning classes – while struggle and competition prevail with respect to them in other domains.

And this class hatred, as well as this class love, becomes stronger in the politician as the contrast between the owning and non-owning classes becomes more striking, due to technology.

This explains why politicians who, prior to their engagement in practical politics – in an opposition party, for example, or in a young bourgeois party – were full of social feeling for the workers, lose this feeling from the very moment that they have to carry out the practical struggle against the workers. Practice kills this feeling and replaces it with the class solidarity of the owners. Kuyper[6] in Holland, and Millerand, Briand and Clemenceau in France, are outstanding examples of this phenomenon.[7]

Now let us take a worker as our third example.

Can he obey the noble precept of generosity in relation to his employer, to the latter’s class and State? No, because he would work himself to death, his wife and children would die of poverty. Poverty, illness and unemployment would ruin him, him and his class. Against this outcome the powerful instincts of self-preservation and the survival of the species both rebel, together with all the most implacable sentiments which are closely related to those instincts, love for his children and his parents. He must not sacrifice himself for the capitalist or the State, since if he allows either untrammeled rule, they would destroy him; they would condemn him to slavery and premature death. History teaches that if the workers do not fight for a better life, the capitalist class will push them to a point where they will be incapable of life or death, and where even the slightest improvements will cost years of efforts. The existence of the workers is often so miserable; unemployment, female and child labor, illness, and competition among the workers are often so unendurable; their lives are so deprived of all spiritual and physical pleasures whose satisfaction would nonetheless be so easy, that surrender to the capitalist class and its State means nothing but the downfall of the worker from that narrow ledge he occupies, a fall to his death. This is why the worker behaves in a manner contrary to the highest moral law with respect to the capitalist class (the law which Christians express as follows: love your neighbor as yourself): he commits himself to the struggle against the ruling class.

And the greater the resistance of the capitalists due to technological development, the stronger their organization in employers’ associations, trusts and political parties, the weaker the social instinct towards the capitalist class becomes in the hearts of the workers; just as, in the capitalist class, this instinct is transformed into class hatred.

Let us proceed to imagine that this worker has come to understand class and production relations so profoundly that he becomes a socialist; his higher moral instincts will then become increasingly passionate with regard to the class of non-owners and will grow to the same degree that they will diminish with respect to the capitalists and their society. If he is a man who is gifted by nature with elevated moral sentiments, the latter will be strengthened by the understanding that he and his children, and all his comrades, will only attain happiness if all of them, and he as well, will mutually listen to the voice which calls to loyalty, love of truth, bravery, self-sacrifice and justice.

And as the misfortune of the class deepens, that is, as a result of technological development, the greater is the workers’ need for a socialist society and the more widespread the owners’ resistance to such an outcome, the more the workers’ solidarity will grow, the more forcefully will morality speak in the proletariat, the more the proletariat will pay heed to that voice. And therefore the effect of morality will undergo continuous changes in this instance as well.

Finally, let us suppose the case of a worker who has so expanded the scope of his intellectual development that he feels quite distinctly the happiness which the communist society will bring to all men, the misery which it shall cause to disappear; he will then discover, through his hatred of the owners and his solidarity with the non-owners, a path for his highly elevated moral sentiment. He feels that only when the workers are victorious and realize communist society will moral law be capable of being applied by us towards all men. This is why, in his aspiration and that of his class, to abolish private property, competition and the class struggle, he feels in the bottom of his heart something, even if it is only the first glimmer of dawn, of the moral law that will apply to all men. If socialist society is a blessing for the whole world, then the aspiration to hasten its arrival will also already contain something of the universal love for humanity that extends to every nation.[8]

With these examples, which are known by every worker from his immediate experience in real life, it becomes absolutely clear that the effect, the content and the mode of existence of our allegedly supreme and eternal morality is modified in our heads and our hearts in response to the changes which take place in the class struggle, in class relations, that is, in the relations of production and therefore, ultimately, in production and technology. The highest morality is therefore not immutable; it is alive, that is, it changes.

Objection

We have already mentioned the fervor with which the adversaries of social democracy seized upon the contention of Henriette Roland-Holst that the conceptions of good and evil “are a game of musical chairs”. What our comrade meant by this expression is that, just as children change places in the game of “musical chairs”, so also do the conceptions of good and evil not always apply to the same acts, and that today one finds “good” in the chair where “evil” used to be.

We have now demonstrated with the most comprehensive examples that this judgment is correct. The new female virtues, the new workers’ virtues, patriotism, international feeling, are changing: what was good has become evil, and vice-versa.

Our adversaries cry out at us: there is an eternal and unchanging morality; its supreme precepts are always the same.

We respond: prove it. Not with exclamations and rhetoric, not with an authoritarian arrogance or with spectacular judgments of condemnation, but historically, with facts that the whole world can see and examine.

They cannot.

We, however, have demonstrated, with the support of Darwin and Kautsky, that, first of all, there exists in man a tendency to help his fellow man, a moral precept of purely earthly, and even animal origin, but that, on the other hand, the expression of this moral law is always different due to the struggle over property, competition and the class struggle, and that moral law when applied to class comrades has a completely different content than when applied to class enemies.

The whole world knows this is true; anyone can observe this every day with respect to themselves and others. We have, then, opposed vain assertions with realities.

It clearly emerges from our proofs that, against the enemy, whether the enemy of the tribe, the nation or the class, the highest precepts of morality do not apply; that, to the contrary, the morality which orders us to help our comrades, simultaneously obliges us to destroy the enemy who torments them; and therefore that the precepts of self-sacrifice, solidarity, honesty and loyalty are not applicable to the class enemy.

Our adversaries are also shocked that we should actually say this, and this is why they insult us. But we can again tranquilly draw attention to the fact that they themselves, the conservatives, the liberals, the supporters of the religious parties and the democrats, constantly act in precisely the same way. For day after day, year after year, they deny the absolute necessities of life to the enemies of their class, the workers; they sacrifice nothing of what their class possesses, beyond what is snatched from their grasp by fear of the workers’ power; they do not show the least solidarity with the workers but throw them in chains when they try to mobilize and take disciplinary measures against them as in the case of the Dutch rail strike; they are neither honest with nor loyal to them, but in the elections they regularly make promises to them which they do not fulfill. And in the meantime they are preaching love for one’s neighbor, for all neighbors!

We, on the other hand, know from history that whenever someone wanted to help his class or his people, the highest precepts of morality have never applied to the enemy, and we frankly confess that we shall be neither altruistic nor loyal, nor honest in our dealings with the enemy class when the salvation of our class requires it.[9]

Against these observations, it might be objected that, even so, all human feeling is not totally squelched in the class struggle; if, in war, despite the desire to destroy the enemy, the precepts of morality have a certain validity, prisoners are not killed, agreements are abided by and promises are kept, this is all the more true for the class struggle where the adversaries are much closer to one another!

This observation is perfectly just, but does not constitute an objection to our observations. For we make it perfectly clear that the precepts of morality as applied to the enemy are only jettisoned when the true salvation of the class demands it. Human feeling is not universally suppressed in the class struggle, but only when a class judges that such a course is unavoidable for the purpose of preserving its existence. If it is not necessary, the workers are not killed by the capitalist power; if it is necessary, they are killed. In the Prussian mines, they do not employ labor inspectors, because it is feared that then the great masses of miners would become politically and economically too powerful. In 1903, they simply allowed the Dutch rail workers to starve to death, but in 1871 the fighters of the Commune were subjected to mass killings because the bourgeoisie judged that it was necessary for its power to sow a great deal of fear among the proletariat.

The worker, on the other hand, will not lie to or deceive his employer if possible. Generally, it is not in his class interests to deceive him. But where his class interest requires the violation of moral precepts, he will violate them.

But it is precisely in regard to this point that objections will be put forth by the social democrats themselves, by workers in the midst of struggle. They acknowledge that the capitalists are constantly violating moral precepts in the class struggle, that they act in bad faith, falsely, insincerely and brutally against the oppressed class in order to preserve its oppression. But socialism signifies precisely a higher morality; the fighting workers do not need such means, and when they do on occasion employ them we must hold them accountable for it.

In this objection there is only one correct point, and that is that the working class is much less obliged than the ruling class to violate moral precepts; this is based on its situation as a weak and oppressed class which rises thanks to economic development, while the ruling classes try in vain to stay in power. But in its generality, this observation is nothing but one more proof that one can always easily detect the violation of morality by one’s class enemy, but it is very hard to discern such violations by one’s own class. Some examples will show us – if we want to clearly face up to the truth – that we do not condemn violations of moral precepts when they are undertaken essentially in the interest of our class, but, on the contrary, we celebrate them as noble deeds.

Let us imagine a factory that pays low wages, and a trade union that wants to struggle for higher wages. Let us suppose that this can only be achieved by means of an unannounced strike. A few days before the strike is scheduled to begin, when everything is ready, the owner of the factory notices something; he approaches a worker and asks him if something is afoot. If the worker responds evasively, the manufacturer will immediately understand what is going on and will call for strikebreakers. For this reason the worker lies; he denies that anything is going on and says he knows nothing. In the eyes of the manufacturer he is evil, but in the eyes of the workers he is good. Such cases are common. It can be a good thing to lie.

Let us imagine an office employee in a government ministry, and let us assume he is a social democrat. A proposal that constitutes a threat to his class comes into his hands. He steals it and conveys it to the Vorwärts editorial office. We consider this to be a praiseworthy act. Dishonesty with respect to the enemy class can therefore be a virtue in the eyes of your own class.

In 1903, many of Holland’s rail workers came to an agreement to stop rail traffic after a particular signal was given. This was an act of disloyalty to the railroad companies. For us, however, it was an act of the most elevated kind of loyalty.

After the Dutch rail strike, a parliamentary commission was appointed to investigate the situation of the railroads and it discovered the horrible conditions prevailing in that industry. But its report was kept secret and the government did not feel obliged to intervene using legal methods. Some office employee or functionary, or perhaps a printer who acquired a copy of this report, gave a copy of it to the secretary of the rail workers union, and the union secretary publicized the contents of the report in speeches and numerous meetings. At that time no worker, no social democrat, disapproved of this act; everyone felt that loyalty to one’s own class was more important than loyalty to the capitalists.

How many more examples do we need to contrast our truth with hypocritical bourgeois morality! One more: the workers of the Commune did not hesitate to fight the reactionary classes with their weapons. This was a crime in the eyes of the enemy, the greatest courage and self-sacrifice in our eyes. Much the same can be said for our comrades, the combatants of the Russian revolution.

On the other hand, one could proffer numerous examples of how our adversaries infringe upon moral precepts in the class struggle. We repeat: all classes conduct themselves in the class struggle in accordance with a custom which stands in contradiction with the universal morality preached by the bourgeoisie. The capitalist classes are constantly lying to, cheating and robbing the working class; they do these things in their capacity as ruling elements, and it is for this reason even more serious; they must do this, because their social system is based upon such conduct. But the working class is also often obliged to be disloyal, insincere, etc., in the class struggle.[10]

Here it is necessary to insert one more observation to make ourselves perfectly clear. We have shown that all classes use bad faith as a means in the class struggle and that they consider this to be moral. But the owning class is obliged by its situation to employ the lie much more often than the working class as a method of struggle. This is true not only in regard to the everyday struggle, but also and above all in connection with scientific truth concerning society itself.

The capitalist class is in decline, the working class is on the rise; this is how the process of production wants it to be. But the acknowledgment of this fact would be, for the bourgeoisie, one part of the decline which it denies is taking place. This is why it hates all the truths which refer to this aspect of its decline, and tries to combat them wherever it still holds sway. But since the process of production moves inexorably forward, this is not possible except by means of lies. Out of class interest, it instinctively seeks out the lie and in the best cases it actually believes it to be the truth. The working class, on the other hand, has an interest in the truth in all domains of society. It advances thanks to social forces; it therefore wants to understand them; this knowledge is beneficial for it because it becomes a new force for its advancement.

Everything that affects the domain of the class struggle is for us an object of honest study in search of the truth. We do not fear clear understanding because our victory is becoming all the more certain.

Therefore, we do not always speak the truth; in the struggle, we must sometimes be – our examples have proven this – insincere with respect to the adversary; but we always seek the scientific truth concerning society, we never conceal it. We also do this out of class interest.

This is a major difference between the proletariat and the bourgeoisie.

Here, too, the worker must decide for himself which side he wants to be on, that of the capitalists or that of the socialists.

There is, however, yet one more thing that requires clarification, and this will allow us to put this difficult point behind us.

The attentive reader might ask: if the same highly ideal morality does not float before the eyes of all men, and if morality is not eternal and does not always take the same form, then is the ideal of equality, universal love of one’s neighbor, happiness and justice really the same for the whole world?

Marxism responds as follows: it is so only in appearance; one always finds the same words in human history: liberty, equality, justice, fraternity. It seems, then, that the ideal is always the same.

But upon closer examination, it is clear that the cause of this appearance resides in the fact that, since the advent of class society, all ruling classes have always preserved enslavement, inequality and injustice, and all the dominated and oppressed classes, from the moment that they became aware of this and began to flex their muscles, have demanded justice, liberty and equality. Since there has always been oppression, there has always been a sense of liberty and equality. But if we look behind the slogans, behind the words, we find that the liberty and the equality proclaimed by some people was completely unlike the liberty and the equality proclaimed by others, and that the difference derived from the class and production relations within which the various oppressed peoples lived. We have already proven this above thanks to the examples of Christianity, the French Revolution and social democracy, and therefore need not undertake to provide further proofs.

The moral ideal is also different for different eras and classes. It lives and evolves like all ideas. All morality is, then, like politics, law and other mental products, a natural phenomenon which we understand quite well and which we can trace in its evolution.

Observation

Morality is not a spiritual domain completely separate from all others. Man is not partly a political being, partly a juridical being, and then, categorized separately, a moral being and, in yet another part, a religious being. Man is a whole which we split into different parts solely for the purpose of understanding him better, so as to more clearly understand each part considered separately. In reality, political, moral, juridical and religious conceptions are intimately interwoven and all of them together comprise a single spiritual content. For us, then, it is not surprising that they mutually influence one another. Once a political conviction takes shape, it has its own power and it influences juridical conceptions and moral sentiments; once moral sentiments are formed, they have a retroactive effect on political as well as other convictions.

We shall prove this with an example.

As everyone knows, the misery caused by the capitalist system leads many people to abuse alcohol. But capitalism compels the destitute to organize and struggle and thereby creates in them the following kinds of morality: sentiments of solidarity, a greater power of moral resistance, bravery, pride, etc. This morality, these social instincts, lead to abstinence or temperance, and the latter qualities have the effect of making political convictions more clear and the political force of the destitute much greater. Morality has therefore exercised influence on knowledge, thought, ideas concerning legal rights, property and class struggle.

It is, however, no less correct to maintain that changes in morality derive from the development of the forces of production – for without the latter, the former would never have led to organization and consciousness of its own power – but there is a reactive force among all these spiritual domains which, as a result of their all being rooted in social labor, all influence one another mutually.

Our adversaries often attempt to refute our positions by saying that they call attention to the influence of spiritual causes, religion, morality and science. Social democracy must not allow itself to fall into error as a result of this objection. It will grant a high degree of recognition to the influence of intellectual forces – otherwise, why would it stir up people’s minds so much if it did not believe such activity to be of any use? – but it will also examine how this intellectual force has been put into motion prior to its exercising this influence. And then it will discover that the development of production and of the relations of production is the ultimate cause of its being put into motion.

F. Religion and Philosophy

Every religion – there were and there are thousands of kinds of religions – every religious sect, considers itself to be the true religion. Nothing, however, is more dependent upon the evolution of technology, nothing is changed more by the latter than religion. We shall demonstrate this by means of a brief account.

When technology did not yet dominate the forces of nature and, to the contrary, nature almost totally dominated man, when the latter still used only what he found in nature as tools and was only capable at first of manufacturing a few such tools, he worshipped the forces of nature, the sun, the sky, lightning, fire, mountains, trees, rivers and animals, as a function of the importance conceded to these factors by the tribe. The same is still true among the so-called primitive peoples: the inhabitants of New Guinea, which the Dutch are currently colonizing on behalf of the capitalists, worship the starchy pith of the sago palm tree as their god; they believe they are the descendants of this material.

But after the development of technology, after the invention of agriculture, after the warriors and priests seized power and property, after the appearance of rulers and ruled and therefore of classes, after man was no longer completely subject to nature, but to man, and above all to men of higher status, since man has exercised power, the true nature gods disappeared and were transformed into imaginary creatures in the form of powerful men. The divine forms found in the works of the ancient Greek poet Homer are powerful princes and princesses, the prince being deified bravery, the princess being deified prudence, beauty or love. The nature gods became magnificent men. Technology gave power to men, the gods became powerful men.

But when the Greeks, as a result of their technology, which continually improved, had covered their country with trade routes, the sea with fleets and, especially, the coasts with cities, when trade and industry prospered, when, in short, commodity society was born, in which everything, land, products, tools, ships and carts, became commodities destined for trade, then neither sun, or fire, or mountain or tree was marvelous or the most important of all, all-powerful or mysteriously divine for this society anymore; nature was now too much within its power for such views. During that era, it was no longer human strength or skill, bravery or beauty, as in Homeric times; these physical characteristics no longer possessed their former importance in a society which rested on competition. Something else, however, appeared in this society as more important than anything else, dominating everything, the most marvelous of all, and so it was for Greek society. This was the mind, the human mind.

In commodity society, the mind is the most important factor. It counts, it invents, it measures and weighs, sells, makes a profit, subjects, dominates men and things. In commodity society, the mind is at the center of life, like the starchy pith of the sago palm tree among the Papuans and like beauty and strength in Homer. It is what expresses power.

The first great philosophers of Greek commodity society, Socrates and Plato, often said that what interested them was not nature, but only the phenomena of thought and the soul.

This step is a clear consequence of the technological development which created commodity society.

There were strange phenomena in the human mind which were not understood. What were the universal ideas found in the mind, where did they come from? What was the magnificent force in thought which operated with such ease and so prodigiously with these universal ideas? Where did it come from?

It could not have come from the earth, because only particular things are found on the earth, but not universal ones. And what were the moral sentiments, those conceptions of good and evil which are found in the human mind but which are so difficult to apply in commodity society? For what is good for one person is bad for another: the death of one is bread for the other, and the advantage of one private person often means harm for the community.

All of these things constituted enigmas which, for the great thinkers like Plato, Socrates, Aristotle, Zeno and so many others, were insoluble in other times, which could not be explained by nature and experience and which had to lead to the assertion that the mind was of divine origin.

The social instincts and sentiments are so important for men that, when they are shattered by commodity society, men need to undertake an investigation to find out where they come from and how they can be recreated. They are also so vigorous, so splendid and so sublime, that acting in accordance with them provides such pleasure and such an increase in strength that when it becomes possible to do so, their magnificence receives an ideal splendor and it seems that they must necessarily come from another, superior world.

In order to explain them, a heaven full of gods, such as was the case with the numerous natural phenomena, was no longer necessary; one god was enough. And since “good and evil” are mental concepts, this god is easy to represent as mind.

In commodity society, intellectual labor dominates manual labor. Management, the administration of the business and the State, are the affair of the intellectual laborer; the artisan, when he is not a slave, is of lower rank. This also led people to see the divine in the mind, and to consider god as a mind.

To this was added the fact that, in the commodity-producing society, every man becomes an individual who is in competition with the others. Every man thus becomes the most important object for himself and – since he feels, reflects and ascertains everything in his mind – his mind becomes the most important part of this object. This was most conducive to making the men of this society perfectly fitted to consider the mind as divine and god as an individual mind which exists by itself.

Technology had led man so far that he no longer deified a bull, a cat, or an ibis, a tree or a human physical attribute, but not so far that he was capable of understanding the nature of thought and the conceptions of “good” and “evil”. This is why, in the past, this mental and moral complex which was all-powerful yet incomprehensible in that society was declared to be divine. And this has remained unchanged in commodity society up to the present day. “God is a spirit”, is still said today, and most moral conceptions even today have a supernatural origin.

As long as the known world of the ancients was not yet a single economic and political whole, that is, one big commodity society, there was naturally room within it for various gods, and also for the gods of nature. But when the world trade of the Greeks, first of all, and later Alexander of Macedon and finally the Romans, had created a world empire which produced commodities throughout the entire Mediterranean basin, one spiritual god was enough, one divine spirit, to explain the whole known world and all the hardships within it, and to cause the nature gods to disappear from it. The Roman technology which penetrated everywhere, Roman trade and circulation, the Roman commodity society, universally repelled the nature gods. And so, too, was the system with only one god, monotheism, discovered in the two philosophical conceptions which had previously been imposed on the great world empire, in the doctrine of Plato and in Stoicism.

And when one particular kind of monotheism penetrated into this zone, one that was specifically suited to the gigantic scale of the general economic collapse, and to the social relations of the Roman Empire in the era of the Caesars, Christian monotheism, it everywhere discovered a fertile field and only had to integrate Greek monotheism as one element within it.

The whole society of the Mediterranean basin had become one commodity-producing society that everywhere presented the same mysteries and contradictions, and everywhere exhibited identical individuals who produced commodities. Everywhere the spirit was what was powerful, marvelous and mysterious. Everywhere, the spirit was God.

And as primitive foreign peoples, such as the Welsh and the Germans, were integrated into the commodity society, they, too, gradually lost their original religions and also became ripe for Christianity, which attributed all power to one God.[11]

But the Christian religion did not remain the same as it was during its first few centuries. From a religion for one class only, it became the religion of all classes, when production regressed to the state of natural economy and thus when the great community of production for which one god and one spirit was sufficient to explain the universe had decomposed into a mass of small separate units of production. As medieval society developed, the content of religion was also transformed. Medieval society was the society of landed property, in which men became progressively bound to one another by ties of dependence and in which those who were dependent did not sell the surplus product of their manual labor but gave it to their lords. The serfs and those who were subject to personal service delivered the products of nature to their noble and religious lords. At the head of secular society was the Emperor, under him the princes, under them the feudal lords, under them the petty nobility, and under the nobles the great mass of serfs and persons subject to personal services. In the Church, which also owned vast landed estates, similar relations prevailed. The Church had evolved from the ancient impoverished community which consumed in a communist manner, to an enormous institution of exploitation. At its head was the Pope, and under him the most diverse kinds of great religious lords, who were in various grades of dependence upon one another, cardinals, archbishops, bishops, abbots and abbesses, and then the lower grades of the ecclesiastical hierarchy, the monks and the nuns of all kinds, and finally the vast mass of the people, the community. Together, the religious and secular powers formed one great hierarchical society which rested primarily on the supply of the products of nature by the oppressed. And the Christian religion had been transformed into the image of this society, with this mode of production. It was no longer one god which inhabited heaven, but a whole population of spiritual powers. God thundered above all, existing only as one with his son and the Holy Spirit, penetrating and enveloping everything. Under him, in various grades, there were many kinds of angels with diverse functions, and also fallen angels or demons, which had to be busy with evil. Then there were the saints who, as society rested for the most part on the delivery of products of nature and not on commodities, and since society depended on nature (on the weather, for example), were also turned into a new class of subordinate nature gods, all of whom also had their own functions: one saint for vintners, one for the hay, one saint who came to the aid of women in childbirth, etc. God was, consequently, with all these people around him, an image of the emperor or the Pope with the secular or religious powers they wielded. And under all these angels and saints were men, alive and dead: an image of the earthly communities and the earthly population. The relations of production and landed property, the personal dependence of the princes, the nobles, the bishops, the abbots, the serfs and the people, were represented by the ruling classes simply as the result, the creation of precisely a heavenly society which, to speak truly, was incomprehensible but which, precisely as a result of its divine essence, did not need to be understood. And the naïve believers accepted this representation in their desire to understand society, the mysterious humanity as well as “good” and “evil”.

Never, in any era we know of, has religion so clearly been a reflection of society. The spirit created a heavenly image of earthly society.

This changed when cities began to get bigger.

The burghers of the cities of Italy, southern Germany, the Hanseatic League, France, Flanders and the Netherlands became powerful and independent thanks to trade and industry. They freed themselves from the oppressive bonds which had been imposed upon them by the nobility.

The possession of capital, which belonged to them alone, with which they could do as they pleased, transformed them into free and autonomous individuals, no longer dependent upon the favor of a lord. This placed them in a different kind of relation to society than was the case with the serf class, from which many of them had issued, and it was also unlike that of the nobles or the clergy.

As they were conscious of their different relation to society, they also felt a different sort of relation to the world. This called for a new religion, because it was through religion that men expressed their sense of their relation to the world.

Just as they could do as they wished in the world with their capital, which they had acquired with their industry, their technology and their trade, and since they did not acknowledge any economic power above them – and they became more free politically – and since, as individuals, as capitalists, as traders, they could freely hold their heads high in the world, just as they did not accept any intermediaries between themselves and the world, so also did they not want to accept any intermediaries between themselves and God. They protested against such a state of servitude.

They did away with the Pope and the saints, and became their own priests. Every man was his own priest; every man was in direct contact with God. This is what Luther and Calvin taught.

It was the protestant religion, that is, bourgeois consciousness, which made its appearance with the development of modern capitalist commodity production and which saw its most powerful growth take place in those countries which followed the bourgeois path of development, France, Switzerland, Germany, Holland, England and Scotland.[12]

In this case as well, religion is again a reflection of social life. Just as the bourgeois is individualist, so also is his religion individualist; his God is as solitary as he is.

The stronger capitalism became, especially after the discovery of America and the East Indies, the more rapid and vigorous was the growth of trade and industry, as less of the home countries’ production was devoted to their own needs and more to the foreign market, the more generalized and difficult became the social struggle of each against all under capitalism as a result of constant improvements in the means of communication and instruments of production, and the more solitary man became in economic life and in his spirit as well. With the development of modern capitalism, men increasingly fell under the domination of their products; their products somehow acquire a human power over men; men are dominated as if they were things and everything has an abstract exchange value in addition to the use value products have for men. In such a society, men have, as Marx says, come to see each other as abstractions; their god had to be transformed into an abstract idea.

Furthermore, with the growth of capitalism, poverty gets worse, society becomes more complicated and harder to make sense of, and it becomes increasingly more difficult to distinguish what is really good from what is really bad for everyone. Introspection, speculation, and spiritualization become the only means by which one can find certainty, stability and happiness, in the midst of the struggle and activity unleashed by the production of commodities and trade.

As a result, we see that the image of God is becoming more and more isolated, more spiritualized and more abstract. Among the philosophers of the seventeenth century, in Descartes, Spinoza and Leibniz, God became one vast being within which everything exists, and outside of which there is nothing. In Spinoza, who may have set out the most complete philosophical system – it has been likened to a pure, perfectly-cut diamond – in Spinoza, then, God is a vast body with a vast mind, outside of which nothing exists and which constantly moves and thinks for itself. A reflection of the individualist, bourgeois man.

Knowledge of nature increased along with the development of technology and capitalism; by the seventeenth century nature had been so extensively understood in its true coherence that its incomprehensibility and divinity had been dispelled. The mind, however, the faculty of understanding itself, general ideas and, above all, the ideas of good and evil and the so-called mental sciences, were not yet understood. For this reason, nature and matter slipped more and more into a secondary level in religion. God had become more of a ghostly and abstract spirit, distant from reality. The old Christian contempt for the “flesh” made no small contribution to this development. And the separation between mental and manual labor, which had become more marked as technology advanced and with the spread of the division of labor, within which intellectual labor was reserved for the owning classes and manual labor was reserved for the proletariat, this separation, then, was also the cause, as in the Greek world, of the fact that matter was completely omitted from religion. For all these reasons the philosopher Kant simply designated everything relating to time and space as phenomena without real existence. The philosopher Fichte only recognized one spiritual subject or the ego, the philosopher Hegel posited an absolute spirit which established the world as the manifestation of itself, a world which finally arrives at self-consciousness and reverts to absolute spiritual existence.

Capitalist society isolated the bourgeois individual, it spiritualized him and made him incomprehensible to himself to such an extreme degree that the philosophers of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries created such a solitary, abstract and incomprehensible god![13]

Meanwhile, thanks to the invention of the steam engine, the productive forces, the means of communication and, therefore, capital, have undergone tremendous growth. The new technology, in turn, permitted a more effective investigation of nature, which it required. Yet more of nature was revealed to the eye of man, new discoveries were made regarding the coherence of the laws which rule all natural phenomena, the existence of a supernatural being in nature was increasingly rejected and, finally, such a being was completely eliminated from nature.

And then, for the first time ever, the understanding of society also became more profound. Prehistoric times became the object of research, the era of written history was more fully understood, statistics made its appearance and, for the first time, laws were discerned in human actions. And as what was natural in man became better understood, the supernatural disappeared from him and from society itself just as it had been eliminated from nature.

Technology, the means of communication, the mode of production, and the capital which had accumulated so prodigiously, provided the incentive and the means for the investigation of nature. The vast social questions born from the process of production stimulated man’s mind to investigate society. Technology permitted the exploration of deep layers of the earth and distant journeys to the lands of the most primitive peoples, as well as the collection of materials for history and statistics. The mode of production which created needs, also created the means to satisfy them.

The class which had the imperious necessity of new sciences to augment its technology and its profits and to defeat the old reactionary classes of the landowners, nobility and clergy, that is, the capitalists of industry and commerce who called themselves liberals in the political arena, this class acquired more and more understanding of the rule of law in the phenomena of nature and society; within this class, religion had almost completely disappeared. What remained within this class which pertained to religion was the idea – which subsisted in the deepest recesses of its conscience and which had no practical significance – that “maybe there is a god, after all”.

Moderns and free-thinkers, who are the counterparts in the domain of religion of the liberals in politics, no longer need god to explain notions of “good” and “evil”, or, as they say, to satisfy their “moral” needs, and to give birth to the spirit, whose nature is still to this day an enigma to them, of a supernatural nature. For nature and for a good part of human and social life, they no longer need God; science, which rests upon technology, has illuminated these topics sufficiently for them.

In this manner, modern capitalism, because it has so much improved the understanding of the world, has increasingly refined religion since the era of Luther and Calvin, and has made it more nebulous, cut-off from the world, and unreal. I aroused a great deal of opposition in reactionary, liberal and even socialist circles when I wrote that religion had fled with its head bowed from the earth like a fearful ghost. But all I did was to state what was really the case: religious representations are becoming increasingly ghostly. Only the classes in decline, such as the petit-bourgeoisie and the peasants, and the reactionary classes like the big landowners with their ideologues, are still convinced of its representations from centuries past; for most of the members of the owning classes and their intelligentsia only a tiny bit of religion remains, or they pretend to hold fast to it in order to keep the proletariat down, or for some other reason. The knowledge engendered by the development of capitalist production has drained all substance from religion and has only left it with a ghostly, ethical existence.

But that same economic development, which has largely deprived the liberal bourgeoisie of religion, totally deprived the proletariat of religion.

We are only drawing attention to the facts when we assert that the proletariat is becoming increasingly irreligious.

This is socially just as natural as all the other changes in religious thought that we discussed above.

In general, we discovered the reason for religion in the domination of powers which are not understood. The forces of nature, and the social powers which are not understood, but which are nonetheless felt to be dominating forces, are deified.

And now what is happening in relation to this point with the modern proletariat, that is, the industrial worker of the city who lives in the surroundings of capitalist big business?

The factory has allowed him to see with his own eyes that the forces of nature do not represent incomprehensible forces. Man understands and controls them there, he plays with those forces which, untamed, are the most dangerous. Even if the worker does not understand them theoretically, they are under the control of this hand, and he knows that they are understood.

The modern proletarian, furthermore, understands perfectly well those social forces which are the causes of his poverty. The capitalist mode of production unleashed the class struggle in which he participates, and the class struggle has taught him to recognize capitalist exploitation and private property as the causes of his miserable situation, and socialism as his salvation. For him, then, there is nothing supernatural about either nature or society. He feels that there is nothing in either nature or society which he is not capable of understanding, even if society has temporarily deprived him of the possibility of doing so. He also feels that what is currently an overwhelming cause of poverty for him and his class will not always be. But when the sense of an incomprehensible higher power is lacking, religion doe not arise in him, or if he had it before, it dies and disappears. For this reason the socialist worker is not anti-religious, but has no religion, he is an atheist.

If this is already true for the “ordinary” worker, who has neither the time, or the desire, or the opportunity to devote himself to study, how much more true is it of the worker who is compelled to educate himself due to the class struggle! Precisely because he is a worker, because the poverty of the proletariat compels him to study, he is capable of attaining a better understanding of society than a bourgeois professor of political economy, for example. The bourgeois cannot see the truth; he cannot admit that his class is in decline; he cannot even acknowledge the class struggle in which his class will necessarily be on the losing side. The mind of the worker, on the other hand, which can expect everything from the future, is as prepared for the truth as a hunting dog is prepared to hunt.

The worker has impressive resources at his disposal. More than sixty years ago, Marx explained to the proletariat that capital comes from unpaid labor.[14] More than sixty years ago, Marx and Engels unveiled to the proletariat the nature of the class struggle.[15] And then Marx set out in Capital the nature of the whole capitalist production process, which the worker can find explained more clearly and concisely in Kautsky’s The Economic Doctrines of Marx and in the Erfurt Program. The bourgeoisie has no such resources of social knowledge. The worker who has quenched his thirst from these springs will no longer see anything supernatural in society. It is not simply something negative that shall take root in him, a lack of religion, but also something positive, a clear and coherent conception of the world.

And if he continues to read and to reflect, he will discover the proof in the works of Marx, Engels, Kautsky, Mehring and many other eminent theoreticians of the fact that the mental life of man is determined by his social existence, that the law is class law, politics is class politics, that good and evil are mutable social notions, in short, the truth of everything we have been discussing in this pamphlet and of everything taught by historical materialism. Then he will also understand the transformations which take place in thought and he will therefore understand his own thought. The man who practically engages in the production of society, with his hands, also penetrates it more thoroughly with his mind.

He understands class thought, and once again it is metaphysical thought which collapses, a bastion of religion, which he learned at home and at the church.

And the proletarian for whom the superficial test given him in the factory, and by the political and trade union struggle, is not enough, can go even further in his understanding!

Joseph Dietzgen, the philosopher of the proletariat, as he has been quite justly called, and a student in his time of Marx, has he not taught the proletariat, on the basis of socialist science, what is mind? Has he not explained to the workers the enigma by which the bourgeoisie is still dumbfounded, that is, the nature of human brain work? He proved that every domain of thought produces nothing but the classification of the particular, from experience, towards the general. The mind can therefore only reason concerning the particular, concerning experience, and concerning observed facts. He proved that this, and nothing else, is the effect, the nature of the mind, just as movement is the nature of the body, and that therefore thinking about something supernatural as if it were real (the thing in itself, God, absolute freedom, the eternal personality, absolute spirit, etc.) is just as impossible, just as much in contradiction with the nature of thought, as the representation of a “supernatural piece of sheet-metal”; that the mind is undoubtedly something extraordinary and magnificent, powerful and splendid, but is no more enigmatic and mysterious than any other phenomenon of the universe to those who do not deify it. Dietzgen proved that the mind is comprehensible precisely because the nature of mind consists of understanding, that is, of seeing what is general.[16]

When the proletariat, full of a hunger and a thirst for knowledge, motivated by the desire for freedom and freedom for his class, has understood this, then one could tranquilly state that there is no longer any place in its thoughts where religion could find a place. The capitalist production process, which has given it unemployment, poverty, the need and the desire for liberation, and finally, knowledge, has caused religion to die in the proletariat. The idea of it has disappeared forever; one does not need a lamp in the full light of day.

Some day, when socialist society exists, nature will be even better understood. The detailed study of society will no longer demand so much sweat and hard work, as it does today. It will lie clear and transparent before out eyes. The idea of religion will no longer be taught to children.

Now we have shown, then, that the conceptions of religion, which in days past played such an important role in the mental life of man, are changed by and with the relations of production. And how much they have changed! The belief in a fetish, in a tree, a river, an animal, the sun, in a deified man of beauty, strength and valor, in a spirit, a father, a sovereign, a ghostly abstraction and, finally ... in nothing. And all these changes constitute a clear consequence of the changes in man’s social situation, of his changing relations with nature and with his own species.

First Objection

Our opponents say that the explanations set out above contradict the following point of the social democratic program: religion is a private affair. They consider this point of the program to be hypocrisy and deceit, intended to win over the believers among the workers by dissimulating our real beliefs. That this was not hypocrisy on our part, but simply a lack of understanding on the part of our enemies, was quite elegantly demonstrated one day in an article by comrade Pannekoek, which we reproduce below:

“The supposedly anti-religious character of social democracy is one of the most persistent misunderstandings used as a weapon against us. No matter how unequivocal our assertions that religion is a private affair, the old accusation is always repeated. It is quite evident that there must be a reason for this; if it was just a matter of a baseless claim, without the least semblance of justification, it would have long ago been revealed to be unsuitable as a weapon and it would have disappeared. For an ignorant person there is a contradiction between our declaration and the fact that, as social democracy grows, religion is disappearing in working-class milieus and also that our theory, historical materialism, should contrast so sharply with religious doctrine. This alleged contradiction, which has already disturbed many comrades, has been exploited by our opponents in order to show that our practical proposal, which leaves the matter of religion to each individual’s choice, is nothing but hypocrisy, a pretense to conceal our real anti-religious intentions, and that all of this is really done to win over the religious workers en masse.”

“We claim that religion should be considered to be the private affair of each individual; that each individual must decide for himself, without anyone else making the decision or prescribing what should be done. This demand emerged as something obvious for the necessities of our practice. For it is completely correct that in this way we have won over, en masse, non-religious and religious workers of various faiths, which means that they want to join together in a common struggle for their class interests. The goal of the social democratic workers movement is nothing less than the economic transformation of society, to make the means of production collective property. It is, then, normal that anything extraneous to this goal should be set aside, along with anything which could lead to disputes among the workers. It would require all the biased narrowness of perspective of the theologians to impute to us, instead of an openly-acknowledged goal, another, secret goal, the abolition of religion. Ultimately, one cannot be surprised at the fact that someone who devotes all their thought to religious subtleties and who pays no heed to the deep poverty and the magnificent struggle of the proletarians, should only view the liberating overthrow of a mode of production and the mental and religious changes accompanying it as nothing more than a passage to apostasy and passes over the abolition of poverty, of oppression and of slavery as of no interest.”

“Our practical principle in regard to religion was born from the necessity of the practical struggle; as a result it also must be in accord with our theory, which bases socialism totally on the practice of the everyday struggle. Historical materialism sees in economic relations the basis for all social life; it is always about material necessities, class struggles, of disruptions of the mode of production, where the old ways, and the struggles themselves, exhibit religious discord and conflicts. Religious ideas are nothing but the expressions, the reflections, and the consequences of man’s real life relations and, therefore, primarily, of economic institutions. Today we are also witnessing a thorough economic change but, for the first time in history, the class which must carry it out has a clear understanding that it does not involve the victory of an ideological conception. This clear awareness, which extracts from theory, expresses the practical demand: religion is a private affair!; therefore, this demand is a consequence of both clear scientific consciousness and practical necessity.”

“Concerning this conception, that is, the one held about religion by historical materialism, it follows that it can by no means be put in the same bag with bourgeois atheism. The latter is directly opposed and hostile to religion because it saw in religion the theory of the reactionary classes and the principle obstacle to progress. It only saw stupidity and a lack of knowledge and education in religion; which is why it hoped to be able to extirpate the blind faith of the peasants and the stupid petit-bourgeoisie by means of scientific rationalism, especially by means of natural science.”

“We, on the other hand, see in religion a necessary product of living conditions, which are essentially of an economic nature. The peasant to whom the caprice of the weather grants a good or a bad harvest, the petit-bourgeois for whom the market situation and competition can lead to profit or loss, feel dependent upon mysterious higher powers. Against this immediate sentiment, bookish science, that is, the knowledge that the seasons are determined by natural forces and that the miracles of the Bible are legends invented from whole cloth, is useless. The peasants and the petit-bourgeoisie are against this knowledge; it makes them feel uneasy and arouses their mistrust, because it comes from the class that oppresses them and because, as classes in decline, they cannot use it as a weapon, for salvation or even for consolation. They can only imagine consolation in the form of the supernatural, in religious representations.”

“It is the just the opposite for the class-conscious proletarian; the cause of his misery lies clearly delineated before him, in the nature of capitalist production and exploitation, which have no supernatural qualities in his eyes. And since a future full of hope is set before him, and he feels that he needs knowledge to be able to break his chains, he passionately seizes upon the study of the social mechanism. His whole world-view, even if he knows nothing about Darwin and Copernicus, is thus a non-religious perspective; he feels the forces with which he must work and struggle as cold secular realities. The irreligiousness of the proletariat is therefore not a consequence of any lesson preached to it, but a direct apprehension of its situation. Reciprocally, this mental disposition born of participation in social struggles leads the workers to diligently appropriate all the rationalist and anti-theological writings of Büchner[17] and Häckel[18] in order to provide a theoretical basis for their way of thinking in the form of the knowledge of natural science. This origin of proletarian atheism results in the fact that the proletariat never employs it as an object of struggle against those who hold different opinions; their only objects of struggle are their social concepts and goals which constitute the essential aspect of their world-view. Proletarians who, as class comrades, live under the same oppression, are their natural comrades-in-arms, even if the effects referred to above are absent among them due to their particular circumstances. For there are such circumstances, abstractions constructed from the power of tradition, which operates everywhere and can only be slowly defeated. The proletarians who work in conditions where powerful, unpredictable and terrifying natural forces threaten them with death and ruin, such as miners and sailors, often preserve a strong religious sentiment, while they can also be stout fighters against capitalism at the same time. The practical attitude which results from this state of affairs is still frequently underestimated by our party comrades who think that we must oppose Christian belief with our concepts, as ‘a superior religion.’”

“Thus, in regard to the relation between socialism and religion, the truth is precisely the reverse of the way our theological enemies represent the issue. We do not make the workers renounce their old beliefs by preaching our theory, historical materialism; they lose their beliefs after attentive observation of social relations, which makes them recognize that the abolition of their misery is a goal within their reach. The need to understand these relations more profoundly leads them to study the historical-materialist writings of our great theoreticians. The latter do not exercise their hostility to religion, since there is no longer any belief; to the contrary, they present an appreciation of religion as a historically based phenomenon that will only disappear under future circumstances. This doctrine spares us, then, from having to emphasize ideological differences as if they are what is important, it sets our economic goal on the first level as the only important matter, and expresses the latter in the practical demand: religion is a private affair.”

Second Objection

Why have old religions continued to exist for so long while old relations of production have had to yield to new ones?

This question must be answered because this fact is utilized by our opponents as an objection against us. The answer is not complicated.

First, an old mode of production does not die all at once. In the preceding centuries, this collapse was taking place quite slowly, and even now, when big industry is so rapidly replacing the old technologies, the small business is taking a long time to disappear. Thus, the old religion will still have a place for a long time.

Second, the human mind is lazy. Even when the body already finds itself in new work relations, the mind is slow to adopt new ways of thinking. Tradition, customs, bear upon the mind of living beings. The worker can easily observe this in his surroundings: two men work side by side in the same factory, with the same hardships, the same problems. One, however, is a spiritual invalid who does not want to fight, who is incapable of learning how to think on his own, and who follows the priest’s recommendations about politics, religion and the trade unions. The other worker is full of life, he is all fight; he is always talking, he is ceaselessly making propaganda, constantly agitating, his slogan is: neither God nor Master.

Here, it is tradition, alongside differences in temperament, which is decisive. Catholicism, even though it has managed to manifest itself in new guises, is a religion adapted to ancient relations. As a consequence of the inertia which is inherent in thought as well as in matter, it stubbornly resists. Long after a mode of production has disappeared one can sometimes still find its dried-up old blossoms.

Thirdly, the rising classes and the threatened classes act in such a way that their old ways of thinking continue for a long time. In other times, when the class struggle was still fought under the guise of religion, under religious slogans, a rising class, which aspired to different social relations than those upheld by the ruling class, often had a new religion which corresponded with what it considered good, just and true. Thus, for example, Calvinism was at first a religion of rebels. But once the rising class replaced the old and became the ruling class, its religion was then transformed into the ruling religion; it was then imposed by force on everyone, but in this way the revolutionary character of the religion was changed into a conservative character; its own new relations were also expressed in this religion. So, Christianity – of old the religion of the poor and the propertyless, and still in that era, simply and unadorned, a religion of love and mutual aid – became, as an official Church, a complicated system of dogmas, ceremonies, representatives of God on Earth, hierarchy and exploitation, which hardly resembled early Christianity. The class which comes to power and establishes new relations simply changes the nature of religion from a means of struggle to a means of oppression.

And we also see this in our time.

The ruling classes, who demand pleasure for themselves, have inculcated submission, humility and resigned suffering into the oppressed and used them against them, these aspects of the doctrine of Jesus, after Christianity became the religion of the ruling classes. When the possessing classes were revolutionary, like the Calvinists and the other Protestants, they did not preach tolerance but struggle. But now that a class opposed to them is on the rise, a class which does not want to suffer but to fight until it is victorious, then the old religion of suffering is used again by all sects, even by the ones which were previously revolutionary, in order to separate at least part of the rising classes from the struggle.

It does not surprise us that, as a result of the cumulative effect of the old relations of production which still subsist, and of tradition and class rule, an old religion should still preserve its existence and its power after so long. And thus that it no longer has a rich interior life but is rather like fossilized remains, nor should it surprise us now that we know that religion comes from society.

G. Art

We can only briefly touch upon this domain of the mind, because the proletariat, unfortunately, has yet to experience it.

But the fact that our doctrine must be applicable here, and precisely here, can be explained thanks to the following observation and by a single example.

Art is, in its lines, its colors or its tones, the figurative representation of emotional life. Man only has feelings for man. For this reason art must change at the same time that the relations between men change.

What follows can serve as an illustration.

The individual of bourgeois society is alone and is ruled by production and its products. This fact must be exemplified in art; from the Greek bourgeois art of the Fifth Century BC until now, this has also been demonstrated.

The individual of socialist society has the feeling that he forms a whole with the others, that he has power thanks to them and that he rules production and its products. This will necessarily someday be manifested in his art; this feeling of control, of freedom, of happiness with the whole world must be externalized and will be externalized as sure as the desire for externalization is inherent in social man. But this art will be as different form bourgeois art, that is, enormously different, as the socialist individual will be from the bourgeois individual. And this difference will be brought about – do we need to repeat it once again? – by the fact that the relations of production, which are now based on private ownership and wage labor, will then rest upon collective ownership and labor in common.

VI
Conclusion

With what we set forth above we have resolved the question we posed ourselves. Let us examine our conclusions once again.

We have seen that science, law, politics, customs, religion and philosophy, and art change because the relations of production change, which are themselves changed by technological development.

We saw that this was confirmed by a series of quite simple, generally well-known yet all-embracing examples, which involve entire classes and populations.

Obviously, we cannot supply an endless series of examples, and there are undoubtedly many pieces of history which, if we were to be asked to explain them in terms of historical materialism, would put us in an awkward position since we do not know enough about them to explain everything that happens in them to our opponents. But it is precisely for that reason that we have set forth such all-embracing examples, because, if they are correct in their vast scope, the correctness of the theory can hardly be doubted.

Furthermore, historical materialism has been applied by our comrades, primarily in Germany but also in other countries, to every field of history, with such overwhelming success that we can calmly say: experience has demonstrated the correctness of this part of Marxist doctrine.

We have also seen that historical materialism must by no means be considered as a form suitable only for the introduction of historical questions. One must begin by studying. If one wants to know why a class, or a people, thinks in a particular way, one does not say: well, the mode of production was this or that, and therefore this way of thinking was produced. For we would often be mistaken, since the same technology has produced very different ways of thinking in different peoples, just as different modes of production can also be effectively based, among different peoples, on the same technology. Likewise, other factors must be examined, the political history of the people, the climate, the geographical situation, all of which, together with technology, also influence the mode of production and the way of thinking. Historical materialism, the effect of the productive forces and the relations of production, appears most resplendently highlighted in its environment only when the other factors are understood.

For those who cannot take history courses, and who must be satisfied with the observation of our own epoch, of the struggle between capital and labor, the reflection of which is clearly visible above all in the mind of the worker – and which the worker may quite readily understand by his own efforts thanks to reading good texts and attending good courses.

We have also seen that the various domains of the mind are not sealed compartments. Together they form a single whole, all of them mutually influence one another, politics influences the economy, customs influence politics, technology influences science, and the other way around. There is an interaction, a reaction, a permanent survival of the mental life which flourished in the past. But its motor force is labor, and the channels through which the mental rivers flow are the relations of production.

Tradition is also a force, often a braking force.

The whole process is, as we have seen, a human process, which takes place thanks to man, among men, and in man; that is, it is not a mechanical process. We have been able to repeatedly prove that human need and human instincts are the bases of every event, and that the social instinct is the basis of the instincts of self-preservation and the continuation of the species. Instincts and needs are not mechanical things, they are also mental things, living things, they are feelings, and undoubtedly not at all simply mechanical. We have seen that nothing is more stupid or dishonest than to confuse historical materialism with mechanistic materialism. Technology itself is not just a mechanical process; it is also a mental process.

We have also seen that the great instrument used by nature for furthering the evolution of human thought, struggle, takes the form in our time of class struggle. We have seen, by means of numerous examples, that technology leads the classes into different relations of production and ownership and that, in this way, their ideas aggressively clash with each other; that a struggle among them over ownership results, and at the same time a battle of ideas affecting law, religion, etc.; that the material victory of one class is at the same time the victory of its ideas.

We have seen all of this and we believe we can calmly draw the conclusion that thought constantly changes, that thought is in constant motion, and that in all the domains we have addressed there are no eternal truths, that the only thing that is eternal and absolute is change, evolution. And it is also precisely this general, great truth that, as we said at the beginning of this work, even if we do not subject it to a specific examination, will nonetheless emerge from our experiences. The reader will have observed that we have not set forth this result as a dogma established in advance, but as a consequence of the facts, of simple historical experience.

The Power of the Truth

We have not in any case provided this analysis for the purpose of transforming the workers into philosophers. This will certainly be of interest if the reader understands that the mind, like everything else, is not an absolute thing, but is in a process of transformation; this understanding, as a philosophical truth, however salutary its influence on the mind may be, is still only a secondary outcome.

We have set ourselves another goal; we want to transform the workers into combatants. And into victors. While they attentively read these explanations, they must surely feel their inner power grow.

What, then, is the result of our doctrine and our examples?

If technology changes in such a way that it transforms an insignificant class into a powerful class, a slave into a fighter, then that class’s ideas must also be transformed from insignificant to powerful, from servile to proud. And if technology finally transforms this class into a victor, its ideas must finally come to be the only true ones.

Our intention is to give the working class the certainty that it has the truth, and confidence in its mental powers.

For technology is making the proletarian class as numerous as the grains of sand on the seashore; it organizes it, pushes it into battle, transforms it mentally, morally and materially into a powerful class. The old relations of production, private ownership, have proven to be too narrow for modern labor; labor has become social; only with social ownership can it be freely exercised and developed. Technology in the narrow confines of the small business, in the joint-stock companies and the trusts, requires collective ownership so as to be capable of spreading its wings everywhere without obstacles. It does not want to be artificially stimulated at one time, then slowed down at another. And the workers will finally organize technology and the relations of production in accordance with their will, precisely because technology turned them into a powerful class, and because their will expresses the requirements of technology.

But, for just this reason, the ideas of the workers, which rest upon this conviction, to the extent that they rest upon it, are all true. For if reality proves the workers right and, therefore, if the ownership of the means of production is becoming collective, then all their ideas which point in that direction, to the extent that they point in that direction, are also correct and those of their opponents, who do not want this, are mistaken. If, one day, the soil and the machines belong to the whole world, then it is right that it should be that way, and the conception of those who wanted this is revealed to be true; the closer reality comes to this situation, the more true and right is the proletariat’s idea of law, and the more false is the conception of its opponents, and in contradiction with reality. And the same is true of its politics. If the workers must become, due to technology, the most numerous, the most organized, the most materially powerful class, their political points of view which express this status are true, and those of their opponents, who oppose this development, are false.

For truth is correspondence between thought and reality.

If the socialism of the working class is a requirement of technology, if, without it, production cannot continue to develop, then the morality of the proletariat, to the extent that it is concerned with this end, is also the true morality.

If the working class is right to believe that socialism can only come from the development of the productive forces and from the natural and social forces which have been understood by the working class, then it is also right to not accept anything supernatural, since there is no longer any basis for it, and all its adversaries who subscribe to a religion are imbued with superstitions.

And this is how it is in every domain: the development of technology proceeds in such a way that one class rises or falls not only materially, but also mentally. When the relations sought by a class become reality, its ideas, which expressed its desire for the new relations, then become true. Nor is this surprising, since ideas are nothing but the theories, the considerations, and the summaries of reality in a general concept.

This is why we have attempted with all the forces at our disposal to clarify historical materialism for the workers. The power of the truth must live in the mind of the proletariat.

The Power of the Individual

That last sentence itself leads us to a good conclusion: the power of the truth must live in the mind of the worker.

Surely, technology is leading to socialism. We do not make history by our own will.

“Labor is becoming social.” “The relations of production must become socialist.” “Property relations demand socialization.”

It is true. Social matter is more powerful than the mind of the individual. The individual must follow wherever it leads him.

But technology is composed of machines and of men. Labor in production means human hands, human brains and human hearts which take part in it. Property relations are relations between owners and non-owners.

Once again: the process is a living process. The social power which drags us along is not a dead fate, a brutal mass of compact matter. It is society, it is a living force.

To speak truly, we must go in the direction it is going in. The labor process is dragging us in a direction that we have not ourselves determined. We do not make history by our own will.

But ... we do make it.

It is not a blind destiny but living society which destines you, workers, to usher in socialism.

You, as a class, can do nothing else. You must want higher wages, a happier life, and more leisure. You must organize. You must fight the State, you must conquer political power, and you must be victorious. It is production, it is living labor that you want.

But does it not also depend upon you personally to bring this about quickly, smoothly and correctly? Is it not precisely because you must do so as a living power that it will depend upon you, living individuals, living men, women and children, not what you do, but how you do it?

This depends on your body and your mind.

Physically robust and mentally strong proletarians will realize one of the most magnificent and greatest tasks ever seen in the world better than weak proletarians.

Under capitalism, to be as physically as healthy as you will need to be does not depend on your desires. Wage levels, the length of the working day, housing, do not depend on you alone. But to a very high degree, it is up to you whether or not you are mentally healthy. You can fully and completely accept into your mind the power and the force of the truth, of the socialist social truth, even when your body is not so strong.

It is something characteristic of the mind. Social existence dominates it in such a way that it can be feeble, tired, mortally exhausted, that it can no longer move.

But technology awakens it, shows it a point of light on the horizon, happiness, a goal. It points the way to victory for the class through social existence, then the mind of those who belong to that class go into motion; then it is impassioned, it lives, it aspires to something, it acts, then the saying according to which the mind rules the body becomes true. The mind then becomes more than the body; however weak the body may be, however under-nourished, however anemic, with a thousand troubles and worries, the mind becomes powerful, the mind becomes free.

Worker, comrade, it is necessary for you to be told that your mind can be free under capitalism. The process of production can make you mentally free immediately. You must free yourself from the mental yoke of the bourgeoisie. Historical materialism teaches you about the relation between man and nature. It teaches you that the time approaches when not only will humanity rule nature but will also rule itself. It teaches you that you are called upon to hasten the arrival of that day. He who understands this and acts in accordance with this understanding is mentally free. Only he, with his individual power, is capable of helping to lead his class to the new society.

The mind must be revolutionized. It must extirpate prejudice and cowardice. The most important thing is mental propaganda. Knowledge, mental power, is the essential thing, the most necessary of all.

Only knowledge creates a good organization, a good trade union movement, correct policies and therefore improvements in the fields of economics and politics.

No prosperity will be possible as long as capitalism exists.

Only socialism will bring prosperity.

But socialism can only be achieved, the hard fight for socialism can only be led, by mentally energetic men who are intellectually free.

First make your own mind strong, and then to do so with the minds of your comrades: this is the great and universal power of the individual, thanks to which he can hasten the advent of the socialist future.

Try it, workers, comrades. Drink deep from the development of the productive forces which you have before your eyes and even in your hands, what you must find in them: the new truth, the socialist vision of the world. And spread it!

Notes

5. We cannot sufficiently recommend to the reader, especially the working class reader, Kautsky’s lecture on Ethics and the Materialist Conception of History. Ethics is the last wall behind which people who want to keep the worker in a state of childhood thanks to religion are entrenched. When the terrestrial origin of the highest moral precepts is clarified, many mental obstacles are overcome. So also solidarity will be reinforced if it is understood to have its origin in the most ancient sentiments of the human species.

6. Abraham Kuyper (1837-1920): professor of theology, he helped found the Amsterdam Free University; as a journalist, he founded two newspapers, De Standaard and De Heraut, and as a politician, he was one of the founders of the Anti-Revolutionary Party and was Prime Minister of the Netherlands from 1901 to 1905. (Note from the French translation)

7. Two mental tendencies are possible for the bourgeois or capitalist politician, who, as a result of the development of technology and the mode of production, comes into conflict with the working class. He can confess that he cannot and does not follow the precepts of the highest morality in regard to the working class. He then becomes a cynic, he mutes the voice inside him that tells him what he himself knows is “right” with a “this won’t work”. Or else he says that he recognizes and follows the highest morality. In that case he becomes a hypocrite whose words and actions are in sharp contradiction with each other, who dissimulates his anti-social actions behind beautiful resonant words. And the hypocrite is especially repugnant when, as in the case of Kuyper, he associates religion and devotion with his hypocrisy. Such phenomena, however, are not personal sins but, as we have shown, a necessary consequence of the development of the productive forces.

8. Two mental tendencies are possible, both among the capitalists and their political representatives as well as among the workers and their representatives. The worker could take nothing into account except the everyday struggle. His moral sentiment is then limited to a narrow circle, to his colleagues in his trade, for example. Or he could above all have his sights set on the final goal, socialism. In that case his moral sentiment embraces the whole proletariat, and can also come to include all of humanity. Cynicism and hypocrisy are the two general phenomena necessary in the ruling class; in the ruled class, an uninspiring narrowness and revolutionary enthusiasm. There are naturally many intermediate stages between the two poles.

9. Our opponents occasionally conclude from this that we think that anything is always permitted against the capitalists. This is false. As we said above, this is only the case when it is necessary for the veritable salvation of our class. The application of such means would be exactly contrary to the morality which orders us to act in the interest of our class.

10. It is often said that this abrupt representation and this acknowledgment of the existence of a class morality is prejudicial to our propaganda, because our opponents exploit these things against us and thus arouse the suspicions of the ignorant masses against us. But whoever says this is unaware of the power that theoretical truth confers upon a revolutionary class.

In regard to practice, I can recommend, based on my experience as an agitator, the following in response to this claim. When an opponent reproaches us for recognizing the existence of a class morality – since it is not a question of preaching a class morality – demand that he make reference to particular instances where our class lied, deceived, etc. In most cases he will not be able to produce much in the way of evidence; if he cites the case of the theft of a secret document, explain to your listeners the whole case. If your listeners are workers who are ripe for our agitation, then the sentiment of solidarity with their comrades, which is inherited from our predecessors, will immediately be instinctively voiced within them, and they will feel that we are right.

If the opponent’s attack is repulsed in this way, then go on the offensive. After the failure to prove the existence of a bad class morality among us, show the bad class morality of the capitalists, of the yellow trade unions, of the bourgeois press, and of the politicians, as it is directed against us, against the oppressed class. Go on to compare our class morality, which defends the oppressed, and their class morality, which seeks to repress them; compare capitalist society, which implies such a morality, with the classless socialist society in which all humanity forms a solidaric brotherhood. Only then will you have an effect on the workers. And once again it will become clear that only theoretical truth will lead us to victory.

11. Today, as well, when commodity society penetrates primitive peoples, they are also “converted” to monotheism.

12. Only the Italian cities remained Catholic, also for economic reasons. The power of the Pope signified the power of Italy over the Christian world.

13. For reasons of space we naturally cannot deal with every philosophical system.

14. Wage Labor and Capital, Karl Marx.

15. The Communist Manifesto, Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels.

16. Marx examined how the relations of production modify the content of thought. But thinking itself is explained by bourgeois philosophers and theologians as something that comes from God. Thus, after Marx’s critique of the content of thinking, consequently there still remained an unexplained part of the world of ideas which the bourgeoisie could use to buttress their own status and to put down the proletariat. This is the part that Joseph Dietzgen studied. As Marx had covered the material side, Dietzgen approached the problem from the other side, that of the idea. Whereas Marx set forth what social matter does to the mind, Dietzgen showed what the mind itself does. Marx often heard the bourgeoisie say: “But no one can understand the nature of things; the nature of things is beyond or above the capacities of our imagination.” This is how they tried to preserve the supernatural. Dietzgen proved that the cause of the incomprehensibility of the nature of things for the bourgeoisie does not reside in things themselves, but in their own understanding. The bourgeoisie, the bourgeois philosophers and theologians, do not understand what it means to understand something. Dietzgen explained to the workers what understanding is, and therefore, thanks to Marx and Dietzgen, the entire relation between thought and social existence has been made clear, since one studied the modifications of thought, and the other the nature of thought.

Marx himself had absorbed his knowledge about society from the class struggle of the proletariat which was taking place before his eyes in England and France. Dietzgen formed his conceptions of the mind on the basis of Marx’s knowledge of society. He was able to discern historical materialism in Marx’s writings, and only thus could Dietzgen arrive at his transparent doctrine of the mind. Both of them, then, derived their knowledge from the class struggle of the proletariat. The proletariat gave them, through their labor, their demands and their associations, the experience, and they constructed the doctrine, the theory. One could say that they gave back to the proletariat a hundred-fold what they had taken from it.

17. This apparently refers to Friedrich Büchner (born 1824), a German naturalist and materialist philosopher, author of Force and Matter (1855) and Nature and Mind (1857). Büchner was a popularizer and polemicist who championed the experimental method of science. (Note from the French translation)

18. Ernst Häckel (1834-1919), German biologist and philosopher, was a stalwart proponent of the theory of evolution and popularized Darwin’s work in Germany. He is also considered to be the father of ecology. Some believe he was one of the first to engage in racial classification, since he established a racial hierarchy within an evolutionist framework and was therefore a precursor of the Nazi’s political-biological doctrine. (Note from the French translation)

The Labor Movement and Socialism

Anton Pannekoek

Source: International Socialist Review, July 1908, written for the Review, and translated by William E. Bohn;
Transcribed: by Adam Buick.
Proofread: Andy Carloff, 2010

The relation of labor unions to the Socialist movement is in many countries the subject of sharp differences of opinion, even of bitter strife. The situation is by no means everywhere the same. In England, for example, after the break-up of the Chartist political movement in 1848 the union movement increased greatly and became a mighty organization of the workingmen. But this great body of workers remained indifferent to Socialism, or even inimical to it, and the Socialist party remained a small sect. In America the labor movement developed according to the English pattern. In Germany and Belgium, on the contrary, the situation is exactly reversed. There the Socialist party grew mightily in the first place; then the workers, who had learned how to conduct the fight on the political field, began to struggle for better conditions against individual employers. On this account the unions remained in these countries closely connected with the Socialist party; in Belgium, in fact, they are an organic part of the Socialist movement. Here they are, however, comparatively weak, and it is to be expected that as they increase in strength they will make themselves more independent.

This division is imposed by the different objects of the political and labor union struggles. The Socialist party holds to a great and far-reaching purpose; a purpose not immediately understood by everyone; a purpose which, in fact, is often misunderstood and therefore has to meet opposition, prejudice and hatred which can be overcome only through extended educational propaganda. The objective of the unions, on the other hand, is an immediate one, the securing of higher wages and shorter hours. This is instantly intelligible to everyone; does not demand deep convictions, but appeals rather to immediate interest. On this account quite undeveloped workers must not be hindered from joining the unions because of their prejudice against a world-overturning force like Socialism. As soon as the unions attempt to take in the great mass of the workers they must be absolutely independent. Of course a friendly relation to the Socialist party can still be maintained.

This is the situation in Germany. The unions are independent organizations; they are “neutral,” i. e., they ask no questions as to the religious or political opinions of their members. They remain, however, constantly in friendly touch with the Socialist party, even if now and then a little friction does occur. “Party and union are one,” is the oft quoted expression of a prominent union leader; this is taken for granted because of the fact that the party members and the great body of union adherents are the same persons, the same workingmen.

The need of having unions to improve the immediate situation of the workers and the advantages which grow out of these need not be examined. But the goal of the working class is the complete extermination of capitalism. Have the unions any part in this struggle for the complete liberation of the proletariat? Before this question can be answered we must make a closer investigation into the general conditions of the struggle for the freedom of the workers.

Why does the great body of workingmen still permit itself to be ruled and exploited by the capitalists? Why are they not in a position to drive the minority of exploiters from power? Because they are an unorganised, undisciplined, individualistic and ignorant mass. The majority is impotent because it consists of a divided crowd of individuals each one of whom wishes to act according to his own impulse, regard his own interests, and in addition has no understanding of our social system. It lacks organization and knowledge. The minority, the ruling class, on the contrary, is strong because it possesses both organization and knowledge. Not only does it have in its service scholars and men of learning; it controls also a strong organization, the state administration. The army of officials, government underlings, law-givers, judges, representatives, politicians and soldiers works like a gigantic machine which instantly suppresses any attack on the existing order; a machine against which every individual is powerless and by which, if he opposes it, he is crushed like a troublesome insect; a machine which, indeed, can easily shatter in a struggle even a great organization of workers. In this machine each works as a part of the whole: in the working class each man acts for himself or a small group. No wonder that the few, through their superior strength, rule the majority with ease.

But things are already changing. Economic development is always producing greater machines, more gigantic factories, more colossal capitalizations. It gathers ever greater bodies of laborers about these machines, forces them into organized trade under the command of capital, robs them of their personal and national distinctions and takes from them the possibility of personal success. But incidentally it suggests to them the thought of organization, of union of their forces, as the only means of improving their position and opposing the overpowering might of capital. Economic development thus brings forth the labor movement, which begins the class-struggle against capital.

The object of the labor movement is to increase the strength of the proletariat to the point at which it can conquer the organized force of the bourgeoisie and thus establish its own supremacy. The power of the working class rests, in the first place, upon its members and upon the important role which it plays in the process of production. It constitutes an increasingly large majority of the population. Production proceeds upon a constantly increasing scale, and so is carried on more and more by wage-workers; and the relations of its branches grows constantly more complex. Under these circumstances workingmen find it possible through the strike to bring our whole social life to a standstill. In order that they may be in a position to use this great power in the right way the workers must come to a consciousness of their situation and master an understanding of, and insight into, our social system. They must be class-conscious, i. e., clearly recognize the clash of interests between themselves and the capitalists. And they must have sufficient intelligence to find the right methods of prosecuting the class-struggle and reject the wrong ones. Enlightenment, the spreading of knowledge, is therefore one of the mightiest and most important weapons of the labor movement; this is the immediate purpose of the Socialist propaganda. In the third place, means must be found to turn knowledge into deeds, to apply intelligence to action. To do this we need an organization in which the powers of the individual are joined in a single will and thereby fused into a common social force. The outer form of organization is not the main thing, but the spirit which holds the organization together. Just as the grains of sand are held together by a cement and thus the mass of them becomes a heavy stone, so must the individuals be cemented together so that the organization will not fly asunder at the first opposition, but rather will conquer all opposition like a mighty mass. This immaterial, spiritual cement is the discipline which leads the individual to subordinate his own will to that of the whole and to place his entire strength at the disposal of the community. It is not the giving up of one’s own views, but the recognition of the fact that united action is necessary and that the minority cannot expect the majority to conform to its notions — a recognition which has become a powerful motive for action.

The first of the three factors which constitute the strength of the working class will be increasingly developed by economic evolution independently of our will. The further development of the other two is the task of the labor movement. All our working and striving is devoted to this purpose: to improve the knowledge, the class-consciousness, the organization, the discipline, of the working class. Only when these are sufficiently developed can we conquer the most powerful organization of the ruling class, the state.

Now what are the respective parts played in this development of working class power by the political party and the labor union? Through sermons, speeches and theoretic instruction we can never call into being organization and discipline — no, not even social intelligence and class-consciousness. The worth of theoretic instruction lies in the fact that it explains and illuminates practical experience, brings it to clear consciousness; but it cannot serve as a substitute for this experience. Only through practice, practice in the struggle, can the workers acquire that understanding of theoretic teaching and those intellectual and moral qualities which will make their power great.

It is generally known that in western Europe it has been the politico-parliamentary activity which has chiefly contributed to the tremendous increase of the Socialist movement and everywhere given strength to the Social Democratic parties. What is the meaning of this? That the political struggle has given a mighty impetus to the class-consciousness, the insight, the group-feeling, of the hitherto unconscious, unrelated workers. The representatives of the workers took a stand in parliament against the government and the bourgeois parties, tore from their faces the masks of guardians of “the general welfare”, revealed them as expressions of bourgeois interests inimical to the workers, and through suggestions for the improvement of the conditions of the laborers forced them to show their true characters; by these means they enlightened the people as to the class character of the state and the rulers. The critique which they carried on in debate with the mouthpieces of the bourgeoisie and the capitalist system penetrated through the papers to the uttermost corners of the land and roused to reflection those who otherwise remain untouched by public gatherings. The careful following of parliamentary struggles, of the speeches of their own representatives and of their opponents, developed to a high degree the political intelligence of the workers and increased their understanding of social phenomena. Herein lies the significance of the political struggle for the increase of the power of the working class; the totally unconscious are shaken up and induced to think; their class-consciousness awakens and they join the class organizations of the proletariat; the already class-conscious workingmen become better and better instructed and their knowledge becomes more thorough.

Just as important is the activity connected with labor union struggle. The effect of this conflict is to build up and strengthen the workingmen’s organization. Through the efforts of the union to improve the conditions of labor, increasing numbers of workers who before kept themselves at a distance are aroused and brought into the organization. The most effective recruiting force, it is generally known, is not the designed propaganda carried on through meetings and tracts, but the influence of strikes and lock-outs. The chief significance of these struggles, however, lies in the development of discipline and mutual fidelity. This becomes tough as steel only when it has been tempered in the fire of conflict. The suppression of egotism, the surrender of the individual to the whole, the sacrifice of the individual interest for the organization, can be learned and thoroughly ingrained only in struggle. Experience of the fact that all together suffer defeat if the individual lacks the necessary feeling of solidarity, that on the other hand victory is the reward of unwavering co-operation, beats into everyone this necessary discipline. It is thus the labor unions which weld the scattered individualistic workers into powerful units, teach them to act unitedly as a body, and produce among them the highest working class virtue, solidarity.

In addition the labor union struggle contributes to the knowledge of the workers. It is in this conflict that most of them learn the ABC of Socialism, the opposition of interests between workingmen and employers. Here they can get hold of this fundamental fact of capitalistic society, which appears much less clearly in the political fight. On this account the unions have often been called the preparatory schools of Socialism; they might be better called elementary schools, for the real elementary principles that one learns in the labor struggle. Of course this elementary knowledge of the opposition of interests between employes and employers is not adequate to an understanding of our social system; one who knows nothing more will be nonplussed and without resource when he confronts the more complex relations, the role of the other classes, of the office-holders, of the state, for example, and other political and ideological phenomena.

On the other hand, the political struggle has an essential significance for the organizations of the working class. The union organizations always have their limitations; they include only members of a particular craft, and so develop with the strong solidarity of their fellow craftsmen their guild spirit, their isolation, yes, often an unfriendly jealously of other crafts. This narrowness is swept away by the political struggle. In politics class stands against class. There the delegates of labor speak not as representatives of the carpenters or the miners; they do not even represent the wage-workers exclusively, but the whole body of those exploited by capital. Their opponents are not representatives of definite groups of employers, but of the whole owning class; they fight in parliament against bank capital, colonial capital, land capital, just as much as against all exploiters. Therefore the political conflict extends the view, the intelligence and also the sympathies beyond the narrow circle of the craft interests of the labor union. Where the political party is strong all workers of the most varied trades feel themselves brothers; their solidarity is no longer limited by the boundaries of their crafts, and their labor organizations appear to them as parts, as branches, as battalions in a single great labor army. In Germany, where the political organization preceded the labor union, the guild spirit was unable to develop itself so strongly as, e. g., in England.

The relation between political party and union is often represented as though the political movement were to bring about the destruction of capitalism, and the union to effect the improvement of the laborer’s condition within the capitalist system; as though the political party were naturally revolutionary and the union naturally reformatory. This may be in harmony with the apparent practice in many lands; but in France, on the contrary, the unions regard themselves as the revolutionary organizations and the political party as a bourgeois creation with merely temporary reformatory functions. In reality the truth is that both are at once revolutionary and reformatory: that is to say, they both carry on the present struggle for direct improvement and both have great significance in relation to the revolutionary transformation of society.

In the class-struggle the conflict must always concern itself with immediate, practical objects. What are the bones of contention in parliament? The introduction of Socialism? One may agitate for a purpose lying far in the future, but cannot carry on an immediate fight for it. The actual fight turns about definite legislative proposals; about social reforms, laws for the protection of laborers, contraction or expansion of the rights of labor, laws in the interest of particular capitalist groups, or measures of taxation in regard to which there is a collision of class interests. Every article of a law becomes the crux of a struggle between the representatives of labor and the bourgeoisie. Labor gains only now and then a direct advantage, a favourable legal enactment; but always an indirect one, the enlightenment of the masses as to the nature of society and the state.

The difference between this and the union struggle for direct improvement — of the conditions of labor — lies in the fact that in the political fight more general interests and considerations come into question. Therefore the arguments brought to bear reach a higher level. From momentary questions the opponents reach out to remote purposes; eventually their deepest most general convictions, their world-views, come into conflict. Socialist speakers utilize every particular case to make an attack on the whole capitalist system; their opponents answer with attempts at criticism of Socialist teaching. So the ultimate objective of the proletarian struggle always appears behind the momentary clash, and we always emphasize the fact that this clash gains in significance from its relation to this ultimate objective. So it comes about that apparently the political struggle is carried on in the interests of Socialism, and the union struggle in the interests of reform. And yet both are for reform, for the improvement of the condition and status of labor and against their deterioration. Both of them effect, as we showed above, a steady increase in the power of the working class; pave the way, therefore, for the conquest of political power by the proletariat.

In both there comes about in an analogous manner a limited conception of their function, in that all remote purposes and general interests are sacrificed to the achievement of an immediate reform. On the political field this conception takes the form of a neglect of the class-struggle, a political alliance with the bourgeois parties in a bloc, a strife for votes as a main object; this constitutes the tendency within the Socialist movement which is called reformist or revisionist. The belief that through it we can accomplish more reforms usually proves fallacious, and in addition the revolutionary result of political activity, the enlightenment and organization of labor, usually fails of accomplishment. This tendency can prosper only under underdeveloped conditions such as obtain among small capitalists or land-holders, conditions under which the opposition of classes is not sharply defined — and even there not for any great length of time.

The reformist tendency is much more persistent among the unions. Where on account of particular circumstances the unions have been successful in improving the labor conditions there may easily develop in their ranks a self-satisfied, bigoted conservatism; they give up the thought of a vigorous campaign against capitalism and surrender themselves to the stupor of the “community of interests between capital and labor;” they neglect further enlightenment, isolate their organizations like guilds, look with scorn on the miserable, unorganised mass of sacrifices to capitalism, and become small bourgeois, lacking anything like revolutionary feeling. The classical examples of this are furnished by the English and American trades-unions. In such a labor movement, in distinction from a reformist political movement, the very name of the Socialist enlightenment is proscribed. Under such circumstances a better view of things becomes effective only with great difficulty and as the result of the most painful lessons of experience. In most countries, naturally, the conservative, reformist tendencies are most powerful in the unions; while the political party, on the contrary, represents more energetically the revolutionary standpoint. But the opposite is also possible. Where the Socialist party loses itself too deep in the quagmire of bourgeois parliamentary there awakens in the workers a native, primitive class feeling, a disgust at the coquetting with the representatives of the bourgeoisie. Then they repudiate the whole fight on the political field as a quarrel of ambitious politicians which can only compromise the class-struggle; and they come to place their only trust in the natural organizations of the working class, the unions. So in France, chiefly as a result of the bloc policy and Millerandism, there has arisen a revolutionary unionism which advocates the general strike as the only weapon whereby labor can accomplish the overthrow of capitalism.

The goal of the labor movement, the conquest of political power, indicates in itself that its attainment can be accomplished only by the working class organized as a political party. Repeatedly has the idea been presented, especially by the revisionists, that this conquest can be brought about in a simple, peaceful, parliamentary manner. In every election we poll an increased number of votes, a constantly increasing number of voters is being converted to our views; and when at last we have won the majority of the people we shall have — universal, equal suffrage being taken for granted — the majority in parliament will make laws according to our principles. But this beautiful idyll goes to smash the moment we take into account the restrictions upon suffrage which the bourgeois parties are in a position to put through so long as they are still in control of the majority. It goes without saying that the ruling class will not allow itself to be so easily discarded. It will attempt to assert itself against us with all the weapons at its command; its wealth, and above all its actual control of the political administration, the bureaucracy, the army and the newspapers, give it a tremendous power; so long as it has a majority in the law-giving bodies it can by legal methods do away with the popular rights which are dangerous to it. Experience has shown that in defense of its privileges it is not inclined either in Europe and America to respect recognized rights. In the face of these facts the workers will be forced to call into the field every power which they possess.

In this final struggle for the mastery — which will not be a single battle, but a long war with many ups and downs of victory and defeat — the unions will play a part not inferior to that of the Socialist party. Or, to put it more clearly, the political and the union movement will come together in this conflict. The workers must present themselves as a single, strongly united class with a definite political purpose — that is, as a political party. They must at the same time come into action as a mass organization, i. e., lead into the field their unions and make use of their union weapon, the strike, for political purposes; they must act as a body against the power of the state. In the mass strike the two proletarian methods become one: political understanding and union discipline are here like the thinking head and the strong arm of an individual combatant.

The more the great body of workers take part in the war on capitalism, the more will labor union conflicts become social cataclysms, great political events; and thus the unions will be forced to take part in the political struggle. In these great struggles the old methods of parliamentary and labor union diplomacy will be found inadequate; the cleverness of sharp leaders and versatile spokesmen will be overshadowed by the power of the masses themselves. In the persons of the leaders, who develop according to the particular demands of each form of action, the political and union movements are different; in the persons who constitute the masses behind the leaders they are identical. Thus where the mass of the workers themselves come into action the dividing line between the two methods of struggle disappears; they march upon the field of battle to a single, undivided warfare against capitalism, armed with the class-consciousness, the discipline, the intelligence and the power of action gained in all previous conflicts; the union constitutes their organization; Socialism, their political intelligence.

Dr Anton Pannekoek, Berlin.

The German Revolution—First Stage

Anton Pannekoek

Written: 1918;
Source: Workers Dreadnought, 24 May 1919, reprinted from The Revolutionary Age;
Transcribed: by Adam Buick.

The logical result of the collapse of German Imperialism following the military defeat, was the revolution.

On November 4th the revolt in Kiel occurred. The ferment manifested itself first among the sailors. Rumours of revolt among the sailors were heard during the past year, and the Independent Social Democrats defended themselves against the accusations of complicity. Now it broke out anew, stronger and more general, “by mistake” as the Vossiche Zeitung said. Revolutions often occur through such mistakes - the conviction amongst the sailors that the fleet was ordered out to hopeless combat.

The sailors organised a council, arrested their officers, hoisted the red flag, and presented their demands to the Government. The social-patriot, Noske, arriving in Kiel, attempted to stop them but in vain.

On November 5th the movement extended to Hamburg, where the dock workers declared for a sympathetic strike; traffic ceased and the soldiers joined the revolution. Within the next few days the movement spread to Bremen, Wilhelmshaven, Lubeck, and throughout the northern regions generally, while Wolff’s Bureau sent out vague reports of the revolt and the prediction that it would be quickly suppressed. In Berlin the intrigue of new ministries continued. Max von Baden disappeared, the Social Democratic Party presented an ultimatum to the Government and Vorwaerts entreated the workers to remain “calm” - counter-revolutionary to the last. Meanwhile, the revolution continued to spread; in Cologne, Munich, Stuttgart, throughout Germany.

Everywhere Workers’ and Soldiers’ Councils sprang into being and imprisoned the officers and officials of the old regime, except those who declared their willingness to assist the revolution. Everywhere the new Republic was proclaimed, kings and princes abdicated and disappeared, and, finally, on November 9th, Emperor Wilhelm abdicated. Berlin, which remained calm until the last, went over to the revolution, the Soldiers’ and Workers’ Council took control without bloodshed, and the police of the old regime disappeared from the streets. The movement extended to the Western front, and Wilhelm was forced to flee from the General Staff Headquarters at Spa to the Netherlands.

With scarcely any resistance, in one assault, the revolution was victorious. This proves that the old system was already crumbling and had lost the entire sympathy of the masses, whose sufferings had reached their climax through the war and whose fear of the old regime was banished through the military defeat. This inflammable situation, where one spark spread the flames everywhere, enabled the secret preparations of the groups of the Independents and the extreme left for an armed uprising to break into action, and thus leaders sprang up everywhere to take command. So with the fall of German Imperialism also fell the political form wherein it functioned: the absolutistic, feudal, militaristic, police state was replaced by the democratic republic.

Through its rapidity and unanimity the revolution rested on the surface of civil society and could not as yet penetrate into the depth of the great masses. For those who accomplished it, the revolution, as all modern revolutions, is a proletarian revolution. But in its objects and results it is, as yet, only a purely political, and, therefore, a bourgeois revolution. This is evident from the fact that the social-patriotic leaders, Ebert and Scheidemann, were selected to function as the heads of the provisional government.

It seems at first glance unaccountable that the masses, driven to desperation on account of the war and its horrors should overthrow and expel those responsible for the war, and, at the same time allow their accomplices, who always supported the war policy, to take the helm. But this is simply the result of political incompetence and traditional adherence to the old Social Democracy. The four years of war, through the pressure of the battlefield and the activity of the censor, made political development, except in small groups, impossible. The masses have destroyed the machinery that crushed them, they have won their political liberty, and now the political development, the orientation of what they further desire, can be started. They are still impressed with the naive illusions of the first days of the revolution - even as in Paris in 1848; these later revolutions must first go through the development of former revolutions - the illusions of the people’s unity, of liberty and democracy.

The various denominations and reflections of these fantastic illusions: we speak of the People’s Republic, the rulers are called the People’s representatives, we pass motions against all discord and dissension. The reality of society, the class distinction of bourgeoisie and proletariat seems to have disappeared. As this reality again becomes apparent the class struggle will burst forth anew. It will be sharp and violent in Germany because both the bourgeoisie and the proletariat are strong, their class consciousness is forceful and production is highly developed. This will be the next stage of the revolution; it is even now developing. [This was written in the latter part of November, 1918.]

How are these contending forces arrayed?

In normal times the bourgeoisie rules through its powerful and perfectly organised state apparatus, whereas the masses are divided into separate groups and are thus powerless. Revolutions occur when the masses are spontaneously inspired by one will and thus find power in their unity. New individuals take the helm, different forms of government come, but then the masses resume their daily tasks, the inspiring fire of one powerful will evaporates, they again fall apart as individuals and groups, while the bourgeois apparatus that remained and was deprived of its power only temporarily, retakes its old position unopposed by any organised force, and again becomes the stable organisation of rule. So, through the storms of the revolution class rule grows and becomes stronger as the experience of the revolution teaches it to pretend, to adopt the external forms of democracy, the dress of people’s rule - the rulers change but the rule over the masses remains. To destroy this rule it is necessary to break the old government’s organisation, the old bureaucracy, and to strengthen the temporary organisation of the masses into lasting power. This happened in Paris in 1871 by the Commune, and in Russia in November by the Soviets.

In Germany the workers have created such an organisation, the same as took place in Russia, in the formation of Workers’ and Soldiers’ Councils. These councils gave the revolution a direct power which led to its initial speedy victory. They are the new instrument of power for the masses, the organisation of the proletarian masses as against the organisation of the bourgeoisie. They do not, as yet, know what they want, but they are there - not their programme but their very existence has revolutionary significance. A revolutionary government which wishes to be the organ of the Socialist proletariat should commence now to remove the old functionaries and abolish their functions.

The government of Ebert, Scheidemann and Haase has done the contrary. It has attempted to force the Soldiers’ Councils into a subordinate commission of advice and to restore the disciplinary powers of the officers which has resulted, in many places, in strong resistance and refusal by the soldiers. It has maintained the old bureaucracy and allowed it to continue its rule; it has done the same as every bourgeois party does when it assumes control - taken for itself the best positions and left all else in status quo ante. It has retained the old generals in command of the army and has made no attempt to further revolutionary propaganda amongst the soldiers. Thus, by allowing the apparatus of the ruling class to remain intact it openly encourages the counter-revolution. Already the bureaucrats openly denounce the “government of dilettantes”, the generals at the front order the red flag hauled down, and every reaction is encouraged.

The bourgeoisie is entirely satisfied with this government, especially since it announced that no change will be made in property rights and that the banks will not be nationalised. The reason for these announcements is that the government is trying to rely upon the whole population, upon the workers and the bourgeoisie alike, thus, upon the co-operation of the classes it hopes to be the government of the “continued God’s peace”. This is a reflection of the unconsciousness of the masses, and will become increasingly impossible with the more forceful awakening of the class struggle.

For the time being the government swings between the classes, it has conservative deeds for the bourgeoisie and revolutionary phrases for the workers - because the bourgeoisie is alertly class conscious and not easily defrauded, while the workers are not yet fully awakened. The first part, the appeasement of the middle classes is taken care of by Ebert and Scheidemann, while the nice Radical speechmaking is the task of the so-called “Left Wing”, the Independents: Dittman and Barth, who were included in the government for this reason.

The majority Socialists lack confidence in Socialism and in the ability of the proletariat. They do not dare to socialise society against the bourgeoisie, they are afraid to rule without the old bureaucracy. The rule of the workers appears to them - even as to the bourgeoisie - to be chaos; their own theoretic inability makes them fear the gigantic task which the historical situation imposes upon the German proletariat. For this reason they want a National Constituent Assembly at the earliest possible moment to relieve them of responsibility.

The middle class also wants the convocation of this assembly because through it they hope to restore normal conditions, the establishment of a “stable” government which would send the councils home with expressions of thanks for services rendered. This has made some of the workers reflect and especially among the Independents they begin to doubt and strive to delay the convocation of the assembly. The Independents occupy in the coalition the place which the social-patriots formerly occupied in the bourgeois government, namely to prevent the workers from rebelling against the government. But they are compelled on account of the revolutionary tendencies amongst the workers, to resist the ultra-conservative dealings of the government.

This explains the growing friction between Kurt Eisner [since assassinated], the leader of the Bavarian Councils, and Barth, on one side, and Ebert and Scheidemann on the other. The Independents also propose plans for moderate socialisation - not all at once, no experiments! They propose beautiful plans for the upbuilding of Socialist production upon the basis of great industries and great agriculture whose support they must have. They do not think about the fact that Socialism is not a question of the nationalisation of industry, but is a question of the power of the proletariat - in the theoretic writings of Kautsky nothing is said about this! The result will be that when the bourgeoisie again assume power it will make an end of all these plans or realise them in its own way as State Socialism.

Besides the Independents already go arm in arm with Jaffe, the Bavarian Professor of Economy, who during the war outlined a project for extensive State Socialism, which is better called State Capitalism. The two parties, the majority Socialists and the Independents will, without a doubt, unite with the radical bourgeois parties upon this State Socialist programme, provided the proletariat does not intervene. While the Government is only concerned with externals and the maintenance of order - which, in reality, becomes increasingly chaotic - the friction between the classes develops. The bourgeoisie organise White Guards, the proletariat form Red Guards, and in secret reaction conspires and prepares for civil war. And while the arrival of troops strengthens the reactionaries, the revolutionary spirit flames amongst the workers.

The great struggle which must develop will be between the bourgeoisie, openly or covertly represented by the Social Democratic and the Independent parties, and the revolutionary movement, now called the Communist Party but which during the war was embodied in the Spartacus Group and the Bremen Internationalists. Although, as an organisation, it is not yet distinct and apart from the Social Democracy and the Independents the Communist Party is in direct opposition, it defends the dictatorship of the proletariat as against democratic parliamentarism and is opposed to the convocation of the National Assembly; it demands the abolition of Capitalism and the annulment of state debts. It represents the ideal of the Russian Bolshevik party although not directly connected with it, on account of friction between Rosa Luxemburg and Lenin. By the bourgeoisie and the Social Democracies the Communists are represented as being the Bolsheviki, and all the denunciation and misrepresentation directed against the Russian Bolsheviki are also directed against them. Many motions adopted by Soldiers’ Councils - especially at the front, where they are least developed politically, and where, above all, they desire rest and peace - express their abhorrence of Bolshevism. As yet, the Communists are but a small minority, and the social-patriots and the bourgeoisie use this fact to consolidate their forces. The influence of the Communists upon the workers, however, is growing by leaps and bounds.

The international situation, the threatening food shortage and the menace of the Entente troops are great obstacles to revolutionary developments in Germany. From a military point of view Germany is absolutely at the mercy of the Entente, and, economically, she is also dependent upon the Allies. Her stores of foodstuffs are very small, and she is dependent upon the goodwill of the Poles for grain from the Eastern provinces. Through the loss of Lorraine Germany has not enough iron ore to supply her industries. The Entente had already notified her that the delivery of grain depends upon the maintenance of order and the establishment of an orderly government. The Entente, which sent troops to suppress Communistic Russia and restore the bourgeoisie, is careful not to allow a revolutionary Germany to assist Russia, even morally; and Vorwaerts? ever the lackey of the powers that be, first of Wilhelm, now of the Entente - is terribly agitated against the proposal of Russia to send representatives to the German Congress of Workers’ and Soldiers’ Councils. Vorwaerts, the bourgeois press, and the Government all combine to inspire the population with fear of the Entente threat, and to paint the economic situation as black as possible. They thus hope to stifle the revolutionary will of the workers, and it is beyond doubt that they will be successful with a considerable section of the masses.

There is little doubt but that the Congress of Workers’ and Soldiers’ Councils called for December 16th will support, by a big majority, the bourgeois government of Ebert-Haase. These councils are not by any means pure proletarian institutions; in the Soldiers’ Councils are the officers; in the Workers’ Councils are the Trade Union and party leaders. These men will not allow the revolution to go any further if they can prevent it.

But there are other objective material factors that will force the workers from the bottom up. In the first place the opposition between capital and labour - the first assault brought the proclamation of the eight-hour day and the establishment of the Workers’ Councils in the factories. Now that the reaction is setting in the manufacturers are endeavouring to take back these concessions and reduce wages, while on the other hand, workers are demanding further reforms. Here and there clashes, in the shape of strikes, are occurring which require extraordinary efforts on the part of the Independent agents of the Government to conciliate. This will eventually compel the Government to act and force it to choose between pressing the bourgeoisie or having further sections of the masses arrayed against it. In the second place the economic want will effect the Government still more. The misery and deprivation the war has brought has been so horrible that the workers will not be able to carry any further burden, and if the Government does not actively assist them - and this means that it must take from the possessors - then the revolutionary spirit will receive fresh impetus among the masses.

In times of want, such as confront Germany now and in the coming years, only a government which by its deeds and its viewpoint will not be opposed to the great masses can exist. Consequently it is not to be expected that the present Government of Germany will be successful in confining the revolution to its present purely political reform character; but the attitude of the masses now in assisting the Government to a great extent, and is, therefore, strengthening the bourgeoisie, and will increase its power of resistance in the coming civil war.

Much depends on the class instincts of the coming Congress of Workers’ and Soldiers’ Councils. If it will lay the foundation for power, the power of the workers and soldiers, then the proletariat will be well armed for the coming struggle.

Anton Pannekoek, of the Communist Party of Holland.

Socialism and Anarchism

Anton Pannekoek

Source: The New Review, vol. 1, no. 4, January 25, 1913; The New Review, volume 1, no. 5, February 1, 1913.
Translation: Richard Perin.
Transcription: The Libertarian Labyrinth.
Markup: Micah Muer, 2017.

1. THE SOCIAL IDEAL.

When we read the books of the official professors of social science on the subject of Socialism and Anarchism, we are astonished to find how little the sociologists, even those friendly to us, understand of the great scientific revolution which Engels called the Development of Socialism from Utopia to Science, a revolution now more than half a century old.

Scientific Socialism, as established by Marx and Engels, combined into a harmonious unity two things which from the bourgeois point of view appeared to be irreconcilable opposites: on the one hand dispassionate objectivity, science indifferent to ideals, and on the other hand the passionately sought subjective ideal of a better society. Those who do not take the point of view of scientific Socialism believe that an ideal, that is to say, something, which we desire, can never be a subject matter of science, and that, conversely, passionate desire must be a hindrance to objective truth. To the alleged objective science of society they give the name of sociology; and the sterility, the lack of results which is everywhere in evidence in the countless books of these "sociologists," furnishes the best refutation of their contention that social truth is born of dry book-learning, rather than of participation in the social struggles. A social ideal, on the contrary, they know only as Utopianism — as the conception and propaganda of a better or best social system — which has nothing to do with the science of society, even though its advocates maintain that they are able to prove "scientifically" the excellence of their new system.

Scientific Socialism has overcome this contradiction through the discovery of the economic basis of social evolution. It has taught us that with the continuous improvement in the technical methods of labor and the social organs and organizations necessary to their operation, the entire social order undergoes an uninterrupted transformation, including the opinions and ideals of mankind. Man must continually adapt his ideas and opinions of possible and desirable institutions and organizations, to the progress of the productive forces; in other words, he follows ever new social ideals. Therefore, such a social ideal does not signify the construction of a faultless social system, but it is a mental picture of a subsequent, more highly developed social system, in which the disadvantages of the preceding system have been overcome, and which is adapted to that development of the forces of production which has just been attained. Since everything which man does must first exist in his mind as purpose and will, therefore every new social order, before it becomes a reality, must first exist as a more or less adequate, conscious ideal.

Thus in the youth of capitalism, when the new inventions of the steam engine by James Watt and the spinning machine by Arkwright opened up boundless possibilities to industrial development, the natural social ideal was: unconfined freedom of private production and of competition, the sweeping away of all feudal and guild obstacles. So now, when capitalistic appropriation stands in the way of the full employment and development of the forces of production, when the gigantic establishments and trusts have shown the possibility of a well-devised organization of labor, the natural social ideal is: the socialization of the means of production. And this social ideal forms the chief demand in the programs of the Socialist parties of all countries.

Consequently, if we Socialists are asked: "What order of society do you recommend as the best?" we answer: "None at all." We do not extol any system of society as the most perfect or the only good one, in comparison with which all others are objectionable. Various social orders are necessary, hence advantageous, according to the height of technical and economic development; upon a certain plane of development, an order, which previously was necessary, becomes injurious and unbearable, as is now the case with capitalism. Hence all our struggling and striving is now directed toward the next step, and toward the removal of the obstacles which stand in the way of the acquisition by society of the means of production. These obstacles are mainly two: the political supremacy of the capitalists and the defective organization and discipline of the working class; therefore, our most immediate aims are the organization and training of the workers and, by means of these, the conquest of political power.

Consequently, we are by no means of the opinion that after this victory and with the commencement of the nationalization of the great industries, the ideal of the best of all worlds will have been attained. On the contrary, it is our conviction that this new condition — like its predecessor, capitalism — is only a link in a continuous chain of development. Our program naturally contains nothing in regard to the further phases; our practical task is merely the realization of our present social ideal, that is, the displacement of capitalism by the social order which naturally follows it. We must leave it to the members of the society of the future to raise the banner of new social ideals to correspond to the new needs that will arise.

This does not mean that the subsequent forms of development do not interest us and that we therefore need not concern ourselves about them. It simply means that it would be absurd for us to put our views in regard to future orders of society into the form of demands the realization of which should determine our practical line of action. On the contrary, since it tends to clarify our views and opinions, it may be of value in our present struggle to attempt to forecast the various future phases of social development by means of our historic-materialistic method.

2. THE FUTURE STATE.

The substitution of Socialism for capitalism will not be a single, world-convulsing act, but a process of gradual change, however rapid as compared with the present time [1]. The nationalization of the great industries and trusts will effect no fundamental change in capitalism, for certain industries are even now nationalized; the fundamental change will lie only in the fact that the power of the state will be at the disposal of the working class. The great contrast between the new proletarian supremacy and the former capitalist supremacy will manifest itself immediately, not in a deliberate revolution of the mode of production, but in vast cultural measures — promotion of education, care of the public health, aid for poverty and suffering — by which the new society must make up for the neglects of capitalism. Although we are unable to say to what extent private production will at once be replaced by social production — certainly not completely — yet it is certain that the vigorously executed measures for the promotion of the welfare of great masses of the people will form the basis of the new economic development. Kautsky has already shown how the simplest, most necessary and, to every worker, immediately urgent measure for the checking of poverty, namely, bounteous provision by the state for the unemployed, strikes at the very roots of capitalism; it will be one of the most effective levers for putting a speedy end to private production undertaken for the sake of profit.

When private production is then, for the greater part, replaced by social production, there will nevertheless be little change apparent in the method of production, except that in place of many producers and employers there will be but one; hence the expressions and forms originating in the production of commodities will continue to exist. To the products there will be attributed a certain value for which they are sold; the participants in production will be paid a wage for the labor-power they have expended in the service of society — to be sure, the value> of labor-power will be rated far higher than now — and perhaps this wage will be calculated to vary according to performance and supposed service. The division of that portion of the social products intended for individual consumption will, at this stage of development, be effected by their purchase from society by means of the wage which society pays to its members for their labor. Hence private property will still play an important role; disparities in this form of property will exist; money will be used for the payment of wages, and for buying and selling among the still existent private producers. However completely the abolition of poverty may change the aspect of society, production will at first be but little altered in its superficial aspect by the overthrow of capitalism. Nevertheless this aspect will be deceptive. Even in production the basic difference will be enormous; it will no longer be a means for the creation of surplus value, and it will no longer be left to the hazards of private undertakings, but it will be directed toward the satisfaction of needs as its immediate aim, and hence will be controlled with conscious foresight.

This stage of social development cannot endure; it will gradually undermine itself. Internal contradictions will even in the future be levers of social evolution; to be sure, they cannot, as under capitalism, manifest themselves in a class struggle, for the classes will have vanished; the contradictions will become perceptible in the form of inadequacies, and will furnish the inducement for their removal by means of conscious modification of the foundations of society. Here the contradiction consists in this, that value is a quality of products which originates in private production, and hence vanishes when private production ceases to exist. In a society of commodity-producers value expresses the social character of their private labors; it is in their common quality as values that the products of these private labors announce themselves to be qualitatively similar to each other and to incorporate within themselves social, abstract labor. That the private persons are participants in a social labor-process, becomes apparent only in the quality of value that is common to their products; hence in the inverted form of a quality of things. In the act of exchange the producers and the products meet; there the social character of their private labors comes to light; there value is formed, or more correctly, there it passes from an abstract, conceptual existence into reality. "It is only in exchange that the products of labor receive a socially equal existence as values which is distinguished from their naturally different existences as use-values" (Marx, "Capital," I).

When the social character of labor is immediately apparent to everyone, it need not be embodied in the fanciful form of an objective quality of the product. With the disappearance of private labors, which formerly constituted value through their equalization in exchange, value itself will vanish. It may for a time lead a traditional existence: the impossibility of determining it practically when it has lost its real existence will put an end to the order of society in which it played the chief role in the distribution of the means of consumption. When a generation shall have passed after the first abolition of capitalist poverty and new generations have been born which only know it from hearsay, men will gradually cease to comprehend the capitalistic idea of paying wages for work done. With the universalizing of that scientific and technical education which under capitalism is the monopoly of privileged classes and is used by them to extort higher payment for their labor power, the differences in wages will disappear. With the memory of capitalistic inequality will also disappear the feeling that a man who accomplishes more than another should receive more. Moreover, how would the measure of performance be determined, except in entirely similar labors? Therefore some other rule for the distribution of articles of consumption will have to be sought for.

Possibly, for lack of something better, recourse will be had to the idea that everybody is entitled to the same amount. However, the development of the productive forces will soon lead to another standard. One of the first and most obvious consequences of the abolition of capitalism will be a tremendous development, to an extent now hardly conceivable, of natural science and its technical applications. The universality of scientific education will augment the now small group of natural scientists and inventors by countless numbers of powerful, creative minds. Nowadays this group works only for the profit of the capitalists and to satisfy the thirst for knowledge of a small guild of scholars; in addition, it is demoralized by avarice and place-hunting, as well as hampered by worry and disappointment. Under Socialism the natural scientists and inventors will be sustained by the ennobling consciousness that all their researches and discoveries will redound to the immediate benefit of the community. Then the knowledge of the forces of nature and their technical application will receive an impetus never possible before; the productivity of labor will increase enormously, and the drudgery of the individual will be considerably lightened. The means of life will thus be produced in such abundance that it will no longer be necessary to use painful exactness in apportioning to each his rightful share. Where unlimited abundance reigns, each can take as much as he needs without arousing the jealousy of others. On the other hand, the knowledge that there is always enough will restrain each one from taking more than he actually needs, whether to hoard it or to waste it, both of which would be equally without purpose. The only measure at this stage of social development for the division of the means of consumption will, therefore, be the necessity of the individual. It is obvious that under these circumstances, where each takes what he needs from the social store, the idea of private property, even in means of consumption, will gradually disappear.

This immense increase in the productivity of labor, as a result of the advance in science and education, can commence only when the Socialist order shall have prevailed for some time; for the increase itself will be a consequence of the cultural measures of the new society. Therefore, in the beginning the superiority of Socialist production over capitalist production will have to be based upon entirely different factors. All these factors will be directed toward an effective economical and carefully planned system of production and the avoidance of all useless waste of material and labor-power, in one word, organization. We often conceive the aim of our present struggle to be the organization of scattered, wasteful and anarchic production, and this is to be accomplished by the state as soon as we shall have seized it. The proletariat, then, needs the power of the state to force its will upon the classes it has conquered, to advance education, culture and instruction by vast measures, and in addition to organize the process of social production. Old political institutions will be remoulded into new organs, which will play a part in the management of production; hence they will receive an entirely new significance, while the old forms and names will remain unaltered. Thus the political structure will also be altered but little in its superficial aspect, but greatly in reality. The nature of the State will undergo such a basic transformation that Engels could say with justice: The state will die. Instead of an institution for the oppression of one class by the other it becomes a corporate body with purely economic functions. In accordance with this combination of political form and economic substance, the working regulations will have the form and force of laws.

The organization of labor implies a certain measure of legal compulsion, that is to say, of the subordination of the will of the minority to that of the majority. But whence will this order of society obtain the force to execute its laws? Under capitalism the state has at its disposal a great mass of forcible means: police, prisons and courts, and finally the army; it is only through the physical means of force at its disposal that a minority is able to maintain its rule over the great mass of the people. These physical means of force are unnecessary to the rule of the mass, which will accomplish its purpose by moral force alone. The political system which the proletariat will introduce after its victory, and which may be designated as a consistent democracy, will be governed by the same principles which the workers now employ in their fighting organizations: equality of rights for all members, expression of the will of the whole in legal provisions and resolutions which each must obey, execution of the will of the majority by an executive. The means of compulsion that are employed here to impose the will of the majority upon the minority will probably also be employed in the future industrial democracy — namely, discipline.

This discipline consists in the voluntary subordination of the individual to the whole; it is the chief proletarian virtue, which the working masses have acquired in their struggle against capitalism. The workers will never be able to overthrow capitalism until they have brought this virtue to its highest development, the subordination of their personal desires and of their egoism to the interests of the whole class; this virtue they will carry with them into the new society, and there it will become the moral cement of the Socialist order. It will be the moral counterpart to political democracy; the latter will need no other means of force.

In any case, discipline means the overcoming of an existing instinct; the safeguarding of the interests of the whole does not, in this case, spring spontaneously from direct inclination, but from rational consideration. This instinct, which must be overcome, is egoism, self-interest, which has been fostered by the economic conditions of commodity production and competition until it has become the predominant instinct. Whoever does not possess this characteristic, or possesses it in insufficient measure, is hopelessly lost under capitalism. A characteristic that for countless generations has been ever necessary, and almost essential to life, and hence is firmly rooted in human nature, will require several generations of disuse to become weakened to a considerable degree and finally to disappear. Therefore, the Socialist order of society will be unable to uproot this impulse immediately; its advance over capitalism will consist in this, that egoism will be restrained by discipline (that is, by rational conviction grown into a habit), that the preservation of the common interest will become the most efficacious means of preserving the individual interest.

But the new order of society will itself foster far different traits of character. The common labor for a common end, the community of individual interests with those of society as a whole, will develop to an extraordinary degree the feeling of brotherhood and comradeship. It was economic necessity that made egoism the most prominent trait of men under capitalism; it was economic necessity that made solidarity and discipline the leading traits of the revolutionary labor movement; and it is economic necessity that will, to the same extent, develop the feeling of sociability above all other traits of character in the Socialist society. Men will regard themselves, first of all, not as individuals, but as members of society; the welfare of the whole will dominate all their thoughts and feelings. This tendency will then no longer rest upon the self-conquest of the individual, who sacrifices his inclination to that which he recognizes as necessary; it will rest upon direct inclination Instead of having to overcome an inherited instinct, this tendency will rather consist in the active exercise of the newly born instinct.

This evolution of human instincts will also entail a change in the social organization. In the beginning, the organization of social labor will require special measures, which will be decided upon by the majority, executed with conscientious care by a central body, and faithfully observed by the individual. But as organized work becomes a habit, and as the interest of all becomes the highest aim of each, the deliberate organization and regulation of labor will gradually become superfluous. And to this extent the last vestiges of political authority will vanish, the authority which in the beginning, under the form of laws and controlling bodies, kept the minority in subordination to the majority. The organization of labor will then be no longer a product of external regulation, but of inner impulse. And when the enormous increase in productivity, due to the advance of science, becomes a reality, the results of labor will no longer have to be obtained through carefully planned organization. Thus the substitution of Socialism for capitalism signifies from the very beginning an enormous advance in liberty, since the rational force of discipline in behalf of individual and common interests takes the place of brutal compulsion in the service of alien and hostile interests; but in the further development of the Socialist society even the compulsion of discipline will gradually disappear, and no compulsion will remain other than that of the individual's own sense of sociability, the appreciation or the blame of his fellowmen.

It is self-evident that with greater or less probability much more can be inferred from the given premises in regard to the various phases of development of the future society: in regard to the technique of labor, artistic activity, the return to the land, etc., there are many valuable hints in our literature. The statements made here, however, suffice for an appreciation of the views of the modern Utopians.

3. MODERN UTOPIANISM.

As long as no working class movement was in existence, utopianism was the natural form of Socialism, of the aspiration for a form of society based upon common property. Until the appearance upon the stage of history of a class whose struggles had Socialism for their necessary goal, Socialism was bound to be an artfully contrived idea, of which hopes were entertained that it might be made sufficiently attractive to the rest of mankind. To have foreseen this goal, signified at that time a tremendous advance. Therefore the modern Socialistic working class holds in high honor the great Utopians of the early part of the nineteenth century, whom it regards as its precursors.

Even with the appearance of scientific communism and of the working class movement, Utopianism has not utterly vanished from the scene. The defects and faults of the existing social order are so plainly apparent to countless men outside the working class, that the question is forced upon them: Could not society be better organized? But only an infinitesimal portion of them come into the workers' camp as allies; the conceptions of the Social Democracy remain foreign to them; and although some, after much difficulty and painful shedding of numberless prejudices, do finally find their way there, the great majority are prevented by bourgeois limitations. To these there is no other course left than to construct a better world in their own imagination and to try to gain adherents to it; to the professional vanity of clever literati it appears far more honorable to invent a "system" of their own, than to be incorporated recruits in the great army of the party of Labor.

Thus the two roots of modern Utopianism are the defects of capitalism and the great intellectual eminence of the Socialist movement, so sharply opposed to all conventional bourgeois conceptions and so far superior to them. But while the classical Utopianism was in advance of its time, modern Utopianism lags behind our age. It remains beneath the intellectual level of the present, because it has not freed itself of the intellectual backwardness of the bourgeois mode of thought. Within the latter, it is true, it occupies an honorable place because of its wider vision and keener critical attitude; this honorary testimonial must compensate it for the fact that it is practically without influence in society. A Utopia, an imagined best order of society, cannot form the program of a fighting class; a Utopia cannot gather around itself a party, it can only be the nucleus of a sect.

It is true that even Utopian social constructions can temporarily gain considerable influence. In America, after the publication of Bellamy's "Looking Backward," a group of people (it was even called a party) was formed, which set for itself the task of realizing the system of society described by Bellamy. Similarly, in the beginnings of the German working class movement the Utopian constructions of Eugen Duhring met with so much response that Engels was forced into the famous controversy with him.

Among all modern Utopian systems, Anarchism in its various forms has become the most influential and significant for the labor movement. In countries that have remained backward in capitalistic development, where the government is in the hands of a small, corrupt clique serving only special petty interests, instead of in the hands of an energetic capitalist class that has strongly organized the power of the State, the Anarchistic watchword, abstinence from corrupting politics, meets with ready response among the workers. Thus it was for a long time in Italy, thus it is still in Spain. As the logical successor to liberalism, it forces the latter's individualism — worship of abstract liberty and aversion to the power of the State and all authority — into a complete opposite to capitalism. Its Socialism is Utopianism, that is, it has no idea of the necessary evolution of social formations upon the basis of the evolution of the forces of production, but places before itself the ideal of an absolutely just and best world, for which it seeks to win adherents by means of propaganda.

Regarded superficially, this ideal appears to have some features in common with the state of society which we have predicted above as the farthest result of evolution. The division of the means of consumption according to need and the absence of all compulsory authority, which we expect as the final consequence of evolution, is set up by the Anarchists as an absolute demand for society. This coincidence is the basis of the curious idea that the Anarchists are more logical and more radical than the Socialists, because they aspire to an order of society that is higher and further developed than the Socialist order of society.

This idea is ridiculous. In the first place, there is no such thing as a definite Socialist order of society. And in the second place the liberty demanded by the Anarchists takes no account of the foundation work — the highly developed productive forces — which alone makes that liberty possible. In Kropotkin's famous work, "The Conquest of Bread," the workers are advised, when the revolution breaks out, to throw off all authority and to establish no new authority, but to combine into free laboring groups. All that could result from this is co-operative, or private, petty industry. The Anarchistic ideal discloses itself here as a petty-bourgeois ideal, a yearning for the "liberty" of the small, independent producer; some Anarchists, who call themselves the most logical, even put their theory into practice and settle as hermits upon some small estate, far removed from the tumult of world conflicts and development.

However, this idea is easily comprehensible, because all those who have not freed themselves from the bourgeois conceptions, hence also the Anarchists, cannot conceive of Socialism and the striving for the abolition of capitalism, otherwise than as the realization of a Utopia. Therefore, they believe the Socialists to be the adherents of a definite future social order, one that has already been fixed and determined upon. This error is especially prevalent in France: the alleged ideal of the Socialists — the socialization of the means of production exclusively — is there called Collectivism, while the more radical, who demand the abolition of all private property, call themselves Communists. It is further said of the Collectivists that they advocate a division of goods according to service, while the Communists want them to be divided according to need.

This idea often prevails among those who seek exact definitions of Socialism and Anarchism, in order to answer the question whether the Anarchists also belong to the great family of Socialists, and whether they are justly or unjustly rejected by the Social-Democrats as illegitimate "brothers." Practically, the question is not of the slightest importance; we fight the Anarchists most energetically, in spite of the fact that they call themselves enemies of capitalism, because they are enemies of the working class movement; because their propaganda always threatens to destroy organization and discipline, the chief weapons of the proletariat in its struggles, and tends to divert the workers from the most important part of their struggle, the conquest of the power of the State. And so it is not because of a formal definition, but in the interests of the practical struggle, that we regard the Anarchists as opponents who do not belong to our Socialist movement.

Footnotes:

(1). This theory of transformation has been set forth at length by Karl Kautsky in the second part of "The Social Revolution."

Trade Unionism

Anton Pannekoek

First Published: International Council Correspondence, Vol.II, No.2, January 1936;
Signed: J. Harper;
Edited version: Root & Branch, No.6, 1978;
Written: 1936;
Transcription/HTML Markup:Greg Adargo;
Source: Kurasje Council Communist Archives.

How must the working class fight capitalism in order to win? This is the all important question facing the workers every day. What efficient means of action, what tactics can they use to conquer power and defeat the enemy? No science, no theory, could tell them exactly what to do. But spontaneously and instinctively, by feeling out, by sensing the possibilities, they found their ways of action. And as capitalism grew and conquered the earth and increased its power, the power of the workers also increased. New modes of action, wider and more efficient, came up beside the old ones. It is evident that with changing conditions, the forms of action, the tactics of the class struggle have to change also. Trade unionism is the primary form of labour movement in fixed capitalism. The isolated worker is powerless against the capitalistic employer. To overcome this handicap, the workers organise into unions. The union binds the workers together into common action, with the strike as their weapon. Then the balance of power is relatively equal, or is sometimes even heaviest on the side of the workers, so that the isolated small employer is weak against the mighty union. Hence in developed capitalism trade unions and employers' unions (Associations, Trusts, Corporations, etc.), stand as fighting powers against each other.

Trade unionism first arose in England, where industrial capitalism first developed. Afterward it spread to other countries, as a natural companion of capitalist industry. In the United States there were very special conditions. In the beginning, the abundance of free unoccupied land, open to settlers, made for a shortage of workers in the towns and relatively high wages and good conditions. The American Federation of Labour became a power in the country, and generally was able to uphold a relatively high standard of living for the workers who were organised in its unions.

It is clear that under such conditions the idea of overthrowing capitalism could not for a moment arise in the minds of the workers. Capitalism offered them a sufficient and fairly secure living. They did not feel themselves a separate class whose interests were hostile to the existing order; they were part of it; they were conscious of partaking in all the possibilities of an ascending capitalism in a new continent. There was room for millions of people, coming mostly from Europe. For these increasing millions of farmers, a rapidly increasing industry was necessary, where, with energy and good luck, workmen could rise to become free artisans, small business men, even rich capitalists. It is natural that here a true capitalist spirit prevailed in the working class.

The same was the case in England. Here it was due to England's monopoly of world commerce and big industry, to the lack of competitors on the foreign markets, and to the possession of rich colonies, which brought enormous wealth to England. The capitalist class had no need to fight for its profits and could allow the workers a reasonable living. Of course, at first, fighting was necessary to urge this truth upon them; but then they could allow unions and grant wages in exchange for industrial peace. So here also the working class was imbued with the capitalist spirit.

Now this is entirely in harmony with the innermost character of trade unionism. Trade unionism is an action of the workers, which does not go beyond the limit of capitalism. Its aim is not to replace capitalism by another form of production, but to secure good living conditions within capitalism. Its character is not revolutionary, but conservative.

Certainly, trade union action is class struggle. There is a class antagonism in capitalism -- capitalists and workers have opposing interests. Not only on the question of conservation of capitalism, but also within capitalism itself, with regard to the division of the total product. The capitalists attempt to increase their profits, the surplus value, as much as possible, by cutting down wages and increasing the hours or the intensity of labour. On the other hand, the workers attempt to increase their wages and to shorten their hours of work.

The price of labour power is not a fixed quantity, though it must exceed a certain hunger minimum; and it is not paid by the capitalists of their own free will. Thus this antagonism becomes the object of a contest, the real class struggle. It is the task, the function of the trade unions to carry on this fight.

Trade unionism was the first training school in proletarian virtue, in solidarity as the spirit of organised fighting. It embodied the first form of proletarian organised power. In the early English and American trade unions this virtue often petrified and degenerated into a narrow craft-corporation, a true capitalistic state of mind. It was different, however, where the workers had to fight for their very existence, where the utmost efforts of their unions could hardly uphold their standard of living, where the full force of an energetic, fighting, and expanding capitalism attacked them. There they had to learn the wisdom that only the revolution could definitely save them.

So there comes a disparity between the working class and trade unionism. The working class has to look beyond capitalism. Trade unionism lives entirely within capitalism and cannot look beyond it. Trade unionism can only represent a part, a necessary but narrow part, in the class struggle. And it develops aspects which bring it into conflict with the greater aims of the working class.

With the growth of capitalism and big industry the unions too must grow. They become big corporations with thousands of members, extending over the whole country, with sections in every town and every factory. Officials must be appointed: presidents, secretaries, treasurers, to conduct the affairs, to manage the finances, locally and centrally. They are the leaders, who negotiate with the capitalists and who by this practice have acquired a special skill. The president of a union is a big shot, as big as the capitalist employer himself, and he discusses with him, on equal terms, the interests of his members. The officials are specialists in trade union work, which the members, entirely occupied by their factory work, cannot judge or direct themselves.

So large a corporation as a union is not simply an assembly of single workers; it becomes an organised body, like a living organism, with its own policy, its own character, its own mentality, its own traditions, its own functions. It is a body with its own interests, which are separate from the interests of the working class. It has a will to live and to fight for its existence. If it should come to pass that unions were no longer necessary for the workers, then they would not simply disappear. Their funds, their members, and their officials: all of these are realities that will not disappear at once, but continue their existence as elements of the organisation.

The union officials, the labour leaders, are the bearers of the special union interests. Originally workmen from the shop, they acquire, by long practice at the head of the organisation, a new social character. In each social group, once it is big enough to form a special group, the nature of its work moulds and determines its social character, its mode of thinking and acting. The officials' function is entirely different from that of the workers. They do not work in factories, they are not exploited by capitalists, their existence is not threatened continually by unemployment. They sit in offices, in fairly secure positions. They have to manage corporation affairs and to speak at workers meetings and discuss with employers. Of course, they have to stand for the workers, and to defend their interests and wishes against the capitalists. This is, however, not very different from the position of the lawyer who, appointed secretary of an organisation, will stand for its members and defend their interests to the full of his capacity.

However, there is a difference. Because many of the labour leaders came from the ranks of workers, they have experienced for themselves what wage slavery and exploitation means. They feel as members of the working class and the proletarian spirit often acts as a strong tradition in them. But the new reality of their life continually tends to weaken this tradition. Economically they are not proletarians any more. They sit in conferences with the capitalists, bargaining over wages and hours, pitting interests against interests, just as the opposing interests of the capitalist corporations are weighed one against another. They learn to understand the capitalist's position just as well as the worker's position; they have an eye for "the needs of industry"; they try to mediate. Personal exceptions occur, of course, but as a rule they cannot have that elementary class feeling of the workers, who do not understand and weigh capitalist interests against their own, but will fight for their proper interests. Thus they get into conflict with the workers.

The labour leaders in advanced capitalism are numerous enough to form a special group or class with a special class character and interests. As representatives and leaders of the unions they embody the character and the interests of the unions. The unions are necessary elements of capitalism, so the leaders feel necessary too, as useful citizens in capitalist society. The capitalist function of unions is to regulate class conflicts and to secure industrial peace. So labour leaders see it as their duty as citizens to work for industrial peace and mediate in conflicts. The test of the union lies entirely within capitalism; so labour leaders do not look beyond it. The instinct of self-preservation, the will of the unions to live and to fight for existence, is embodied in the will of the labour leaders to fight for the existence of the unions. Their own existence is indissolubly connected with the existence of the unions. This is not meant in a petty sense, that they only think of their personal jobs when fighting for the unions. It means that primary necessities of life and social functions determine opinions. Their whole life is concentrated in the unions, only here have they a task. So the most necessary organ of society, the only source of security and power is to them the unions; hence they must be preserved and defended by all possible means, even when the realities of capitalist society undermine this position. This happens when capitalism's expansion class conflicts become sharper.

The concentration of capital in powerful concerns and their connection with big finance renders the position of the capitalist employers much stronger than the workers'. Powerful industrial magnates reign as monarchs over large masses of workers; they keep them in absolute subjection and do not allow "their" men to go into unions. Now and then the heavily exploited wage slaves break out in revolt, in a big strike. They hope to enforce better terms, shorter hours, more humane conditions, the right to organise. Union organisers come to aid them. But then the capitalist masters use their social and political power. The strikers are driven from their homes; they are shot by militia or hired thugs; their spokesmen are railroaded into jail; their relief actions are prohibited by court injunctions. The capitalist press denounces their cause as disorder, murder and revolution; public opinion is aroused against them. Then, after months of standing firm and of heroic suffering, exhausted by misery and disappointment, unable to make a dent on the ironclad capitalist structure, they have to submit and to postpone their claims to more opportune times.

In the trades where unions exist as mighty organisations, their position is weakened by this same concentration of capital. The large funds they had collected for strike support are insignificant in comparison to the money power of their adversaries. A couple of lock-outs may completely drain them. No matter how hard the capitalist employer presses upon the worker by cutting wages and intensifying their hours of labour, the union cannot wage a fight. When contracts have to be renewed, the union feels itself the weaker party. It has to accept the bad terms the capitalists offer; no skill in bargaining avails. But now the trouble with the rank and file members begins. The men want to fight; they will not submit before they have fought; and they have not much to lose by fighting. The leaders, however, have much to lose -- the financial power of the union, perhaps its existence. They try to avoid the fight, which they consider hopeless. They have to convince the men that it is better to come to terms. So, in the final analysis, they must act as spokesmen of the employers to force the capitalists' terms upon the workers. It is even worse when the workers insist on fighting in opposition to the decision of the unions. Then the union's power must be used as a weapon to subdue the workers.

So the labour leader has become the slave of his capitalistic task of securing industrial peace -- now at the cost of the workers, though he meant to serve them as best he could. He cannot look beyond capitalism, and within the horizon of capitalism with a capitalist outlook, he is right when he thinks that fighting is of no use. To criticise him can only mean that trade unionism stands here at the limit of its power.

Is there another way out then? Could the workers win anything by fighting? Probably they will lose the immediate issue of the fight; but they will gain something else. By not submitting without having fought, they rouse the spirit of revolt against capitalism. They proclaim a new issue. But here the whole working class must join in. To the whole class, to all their fellow workers, they must show that in capitalism there is no future for them, and that only by fighting, not as a trade union, but as a united class, they can win. This means the beginning of a revolutionary struggle. And when their fellow workers understand this lesson, when simultaneous strikes break out in other trades, when a wave of rebellion goes over the country, then in the arrogant hearts of the capitalists there may appear some doubt as to their omnipotence and some willingness to make concessions.

The trade union leader does not understand this point of view, because trade unionism cannot reach beyond capitalism. He opposes this kind of fight. Fighting capitalism in this way means at the same time rebellion against the trade unions. The labor leader stands beside the capitalist in their common fear of the workers' rebellion.

When the trade unions fought against the capitalist class for better working conditions, the capitalist class hated them, but it had not the power to destroy them completely. If the trade unions would try to raise all the forces of the working class in their fight, the capitalist class would persecute them with all its means. They may see their actions repressed as rebellion, their offices destroyed by militia, their leaders thrown in jail and fined, their funds confiscated. On the other hand, if they keep their members from fighting, the capitalist class may consider them as valuable institutions, to be preserved and protected, and their leaders as deserving citizens. So the trade unions find themselves between the devil and the deep blue sea; on the one side persecution, which is a tough thing to bear for people who meant to be peaceful citizens; on the other side, the rebellion of the members, which may undermine the unions. The capitalist class, if it is wise, will recognize that a bit of sham fighting must be allowed to uphold the influence of the labor leaders over the members.

The conflicts arising here are not anyone's fault; they are an inevitable consequence of capitalist development. Capitalism exists, but it is at the same time on the way to ruin. It must be fought as a living thing, and at the same time, as a transitory thing. The workers must wage a steady fight for wages and working conditions, while at the same time communistic ideas, more or less clear and conscious, awaken in their minds. They cling to the unions, feeling that these are still necessary, trying now and then to transform them into better fighting institutions. But the spirit of trade unionism, which is in its pure form a capitalist spirit, is not in the workers. The divergence between these two tendencies in capitalism and in the class struggle appears now as a rift between the trade union spirit, mainly embodied in their leaders, and the growing revolutionary feeling of the members. This rift becomes apparent in the opposite positions they take on various important social and political questions.

Trade unionism is bound to capitalism; it has its best chances to obtain good wages when capitalism flourishes. So in times of depression it must hope that prosperity will be restored, and it must try to further it. To the workers as a class, the prosperity of capitalism is not at all important. When it is weakened by crisis or depression, they have the best chance to attack it, to strengthen the forces of the revolution, and to take the first steps towards freedom.

Capitalism extends its dominion over foreign continents, seizing their natural treasures in order to make big profits. It conquers colonies, subjugates the primitive population and exploits them, often with horrible cruelties. The working class denounces colonial exploitation and opposes it, but trade unionism often supports colonial politics as a way to capitalist prosperity.

With the enormous increases of capital in modern times, colonies and foreign countries are being used as places in which to invest large sums of capital. They become valuable possessions as markets for big industry and as producers of raw materials. A race for getting colonies, a fierce conflict of interests over the dividing up of the world arises between the great capitalist states. In these politics of imperialism the middle classes are whirled along in a common exaltation of national greatness. Then the trade unions side with the master class, because they consider the prosperity of their own national capitalism to be dependent on its success in the imperialist struggle. For the working class, imperialism means increasing power and brutality of their exploiters.

These conflicts of interests between the national capitalisms explode into wars. World war is the crowning of the policy of imperialism. For the workers, war is not only the destruction of all their feelings of international brotherhood, it also means the most violent exploitation of their class for capitalist profit. The working class, as the most numerous and the most oppressed class of society, has to bear all the horrors of war. The workers have to give not only their labour power, but also their health and their lives.

Trade unions, however, in war must stand upon the side of the capitalist. Its interests are bound up with national capitalism, the victory of which it must wish with all its heart. Hence it assists in arousing strong national feelings and national hatred. It helps the capitalist class to drive the workers into war and to beat down all opposition.

Trade unionism abhors communism. Communism takes away the very basis of its existence. In communism, in the absence of capitalist employers, there is no room for the trade union and labour leaders. It is true that in countries with a strong socialist movement, where the bulk of the workers are socialists, the labour leaders must be socialists too, by origin as well as by environment. But then they are right-wing socialists; and their socialism is restricted to the idea of a commonwealth where instead of greedy capitalists honest labour leaders will manage industrial production.

Trade unionism hates revolution. Revolution upsets all the ordinary relations between capitalists and workers. In its violent clashings, all those careful tariff regulations are swept away; in the strife of its gigantic forces the modest skill of the bargaining labour leaders loses its value. With all its power, trade unionism opposes the ideas of revolution and communism.

This opposition is not without significance. Trade unionism is a power in itself. It has considerable funds at its disposal, as material element of power. It has its spiritual influence, upheld and propagated by its periodical papers as mental element of power. It is a power in the hands of leaders, who make use of it wherever the special interests of trade unions come into conflict with the revolutionary interests of the working class. Trade unionism, though built up by the workers and consisting of workers, has turned into a power over and above the workers, just as government is a power over and above the people.

The forms of trade unionism are different for different countries, owing to the different forms of development in capitalism. Nor do they always remain the same in every country. When they seem to be slowly dying away, the fighting spirit of the workers is sometimes able to transform them, or to build up new types of unionism. Thus in England, in the years 1880-90, the "new unionism" sprang up from the masses of poor dockers and the other badly paid, unskilled workers, bringing a new spirit into the old craft unions. It is a consequence of capitalist development, that in founding new industries and in replacing skilled labour by machine power, it accumulates large bodies of unskilled workers, living in the worst of conditions. Forced at last into a wave of rebellion, into big strikes, they find the way to unity and class consciousness. They mould unionism into a new form, adapted to a more highly developed capitalism. Of course, when afterwards capitalism grows to still mightier forms, the new unionism cannot escape the fate of all unionism, and then it produces the same inner contradictions.

The most notable form sprang up in America, in the "Industrial Workers of the World." The I.W.W. originated from two forms of capitalist expansion. In the enormous forests and plains of the West, capitalism reaped the natural riches by Wild West methods of fierce and brutal exploitation; and the worker-adventurers responded with as wild and jealous a defence. And in the eastern states new industries were founded upon the exploitation of millions of poor immigrants, coming from countries with a low standard of living and now subjected to sweatshop labour or other most miserable working conditions .

Against the narrow craft spirit of the old unionism, of the A.F. of L., which divided the workers of one industrial plant into a number of separate unions, the I.W.W. put the principle: all workers of one factory, as comrades against one master, must form one union, to act as a strong unity against the employer. Against the multitude of often jealous and bickering trade unions, the I.W.W. raised the slogan: one big union for all the workers. The fight of one group is the cause of all. Solidarity extends over the entire class. Contrary to the haughty disdain of the well-paid old American skilled labour towards the unorganised immigrants, it was these worst-paid proletarians that the I.W.W. led into the fight. They were too poor to pay high fees and build up ordinary trade unions. But when they broke out and revolted in big strikes, it was the I.W.W. who taught them how to fight, who raised relief funds all over the country, and who defended their cause in its papers and before the courts. By a glorious series of big battles it infused the spirit of organisation and self-reliance into the hearts of these masses. Contrary to the trust in the big funds of the old unions, the Industrial Workers put their confidence in the living solidarity and the force of endurance, upheld by a burning enthusiasm. Instead of the heavy stone-masoned buildings of the old unions, they represented the principle of flexible construction, with a fluctuating membership, contracting in time of peace, swelling and growing in the fight itself. Contrary to the conservative capitalist spirit of trade unionism, the Industrial Workers were anti-capitalist and stood for Revolution. Therefore they were persecuted with intense hatred by the whole capitalist world. They were thrown into jail and tortured on false accusations; a new crime was even invented on their behalf: that of "criminal syndicalism."

Industrial unionism alone as a method of fighting the capitalist class is not sufficient to overthrow capitalist society and to conquer the world for the working class. It fights the capitalists as employers on the economic field of production, but it has not the means to overthrow their political stronghold, the state power. Nevertheless, the I.W.W. so far has been the most revolutionary organisation in America. More than any other it contributed to rouse class consciousness and insight, solidarity and unity in the working class, to turn its eyes toward communism, and to prepare its fighting power.

The lesson of all these fights is that against big capitalism, trade unionism cannot win. And if at times it wins, such victories give only temporary relief. And yet, these fights are necessary and must be fought. To the bitter end? -- no, to the better end.

The reason is obvious. An isolated group of workers might be equal to a fight against an isolated capitalist employer. But an isolated group of workers against an employer backed by the whole capitalist class is powerless. And such is the case here: the state power, the money power of capitalism, public opinion of the middle class, excited by the capitalist press, all attack the group of fighting workers.

But does the working class back the strikers? The millions of other workers do not consider this fight as their own cause. Certainly they sympathise, and may often collect money for the strikers, and this may give some relief, provided its distribution is not forbidden by a judge's injunction. But this easygoing sympathy leaves the real fight to the striking group alone. The millions stand aloof, passive. So the fight cannot be won (except in some special cases, when the capitalists, for business reasons, prefer to grant concessions), because the working class does not fight as one undivided unit.

The matter will be different, of course, when the mass of the workers really consider such a contest as directly concerning them; when they find that their own future is at stake. If they go into the fight themselves and extend the strike to other factories, to ever more branches of industry, then the state power, the capitalist power, has to be divided and cannot be used entirely against the separate group of workers. It has to face the collective power of the working class.

Extension of the strike, ever more widely, into, finally, a general strike, has often been advised as a means to avert defeat. But to be sure, this is not to be taken as a truly expedient pattern, accidentally hit upon, and ensuring victory. If such were the case, trade unions certainly would have made use of it repeatedly as regular tactics. It cannot be proclaimed at will by union leaders, as a simple tactical measure. It must come forth from the deepest feelings of the masses, as the expression of their spontaneous initiative, and this is aroused only when the issue of the fight is or grows larger than a simple wage contest of one group. Only then will the workers put all their force, their enthusiasm, their solidarity, their power of endurance into it.

And all these forces they will need. For capitalism also will bring into the field stronger forces than before. It may have been defeated and taken by surprise by the unexpected exhibition of proletarian force and thus have made concessions. But then, afterwards, it will gather new forces out of the deepest roots of its power and proceed to win back its position. So the victory of the workers is neither lasting nor certain. There is no clear and open road to victory; the road itself must be hewn and built through the capitalist jungle at the cost of immense efforts.

But even so, it will mean great progress. A wave of solidarity has gone through the masses, they have felt the immense power of class unity, their self-confidence is raised, they have shaken off the narrow group egotism. Through their own deeds they have acquired new wisdom: what capitalism means and how they stand as a class against the capitalist class. They have seen a glimpse of their way to freedom.

Thus the narrow field of trade union struggle widens into the broad field of class struggle. But now the workers themselves must change. They have to take a wider view of the world. From their trade, from their work within the factory walls, their mind must widen to encompass society as a whole. Their spirit must rise above the petty things around them. They have to face the state; they enter the realm of politics. The problems of revolution must be dealt with.

The Party and Class

Anton Pannekoek

Published: Modern Socialism, no. 2, pages 7-10. Winter 1941.
Transcribed: by David Walters/Greg Adargo, December, 2001.
Proofed: and corrected by Megen Devine, July 2011; Micah Muer, 2017.
Note: A very close variant of the 1936 texts "Party and Working Class" and "The Party and the Working Class".

The old labor movement is organized in parties. The belief in parties is the main reason for the impotence of the working class; therefore we avoid forming a new party—not because we are too few, but because a party is an organization that aims to lead and control the working class. In opposition to this, we maintain that the working class can rise to victory only when it independently attacks its problems and decides its own fate. The workers should not blindly accept the slogans of others, nor of our own groups but must think, act, and decide for themselves. This conception is on sharp contradiction to the tradition of the party as the most important means of educating the proletariat. Therefore many, though repudiating the Socialist and Communist parties, resist and oppose us. This is partly due to their traditional concepts; after viewing the class struggle as a struggle of parties, it becomes difficult to consider it as purely the struggle of the working class, as a class struggle. But partly this concept is based on the idea that the party nevertheless plays an essential and important part in the struggle of the proletariat. Let us investigate this latter idea more closely.

Essentially the party is a grouping according to views, conceptions; the classes are groupings according to economic interests. Class membership is determined by one's part in the process of production; party membership is the joining of persons who agree in their conceptions of the social problems. Formerly it was thought that this contradiction would disappear in the class party, the "workers" party. During the rise of Social Democracy it seemed that it would gradually embrace the whole working class, partly as members, partly as supporters. Because Marxian theory declared that similar interests beget similar viewpoints and aims, the contradiction between party and class was expected gradually to disappear. History proved otherwise. Social Democracy remained a minority, other working class groups organized against it, sections split away from it, and its own character changed. Its own program was revised or reinterpreted. The evolution of society does not proceed along a smooth, even line, but in conflicts and contradictions.

With the intensification of the workers' struggle, the might of the enemy also increases and besets the workers with renewed doubts and fears as to which road is best. And every doubt brings on splits, contradictions, and fractional battles within the labor movement. It is futile to bewail these conflicts and splits as harmful in dividing and weakening the working class. The working class is not weak because it is split up—it is split up because it is weak. Because the enemy is powerful and the old methods of warfare prove unavailing, the working class must seek new methods. Its task will not become clear as the result of enlightenment from above; it must discover its tasks through hard work, through thought and conflict of opinions. It must find its own way; therefore, the internal struggle. It must relinquish old ideas and illusions and adopt new ones, and because this is difficult, therefore the magnitude and severity of the splits.

Nor can we delude ourselves into believing that this period of party and ideological strife is only temporary and will make way to renewed harmony. True, in the course of the class struggle there are occasions when all forces unite in a great achievable objective and the revolution is carried on with the might of a united working class. But after that, as after every victory, come differences on the question: what next? And even if the working class is victorious, it is always confronted by the most difficult task of subduing the enemy further, of reorganizing production, creating new order. It is impossible that all workers, all strata and groups, with their often still diverse interests should, at this stage, agree on all matters and be ready for united and decisive further action. They will find the true course only after the sharpest controversies and conflicts and only thus achieve clarity.

If, in this situation, persons with the same fundamental conceptions unite for the discussion of practical steps and seek clarification through discussions and propagandize their conclusions, such groups might be called parties, but they would be parties in an entirely different sense from those of today. Action, the actual class struggle, is the task of the working masses themselves, in their entirety, in their real groupings as factory and millhands, or other productive groups, because history and economy have placed them in the position where they must and can fight the working class struggle. It would be insane if the supporters of one party were to go on strike while those of another continue to work. But both tendencies will defend their positions on strike or no strike in the factory meetings, thus affording an opportunity to arrive at a well founded decision. The struggle is so great, the enemy so powerful that only the masses as a whole can achieve a victory—the result of the material and moral power of action, unity and enthusiasm, but also the result of the mental force of thought, of clarity. In this lies the great importance of such parties or groups based on opinions: that they bring clarity in their conflicts, discussions and propaganda. They are the organs of the self-enlightenment of the working class by means of which the workers find their way to freedom.

Of course such parties are not static and unchangeable. Every new situation, every new problem will find minds diverging and uniting in new groups with new programs. They have a fluctuating character and constantly readjust themselves to new situations.

Compared to such groups, the present workers' parties have an entirely different character, for they have a different objective: they want to seize power for themselves. They aim not at being an aid to the working class in its struggle for emancipation but to rule it themselves and proclaim that this constitutes the emancipation of the proletariat. The Social-Democracy which arose in the era of parliamentarism conceived of this rule as a parliamentary government. The Communist Party carried the idea of party rule through to its fullest extreme in the party dictatorship.

Such parties, in distinction to the groups described above, must be rigid structures with clear lines of demarcation through membership cards, statues, party discipline and admission and expulsion procedures. For they are instruments of power—they fight for power, bridle their members by force and constantly seek to extend the scope of their power. It is not their task to develop the initiative of the workers; rather do they aim at training loyal and unquestioning members of their faith. While the working class in its struggle for power and victory needs unlimited intellectual freedom, the party rule must suppress all opinions except its own. In "democratic" parties, the suppression is veiled; in the dictatorship parties, it is open, brutal suppression.

Many workers already realize that the rule of the Socialist or Communist party will be only the concealed form of the rule of the bourgeois class in which the exploitation and suppression of the working class remains. Instead of these parties, they urge the formation of a "revolutionary party" that will really aim at the rule of the workers and the realization of communism. Not a party in the new sense as described above, but a party like those of today, that fight for power as the "vanguard" of the class, as the organization of conscious, revolutionary minorities, that seize power in order to use it for the emancipation of the class.

We claim that there is an internal contradiction in the term: "revolutionary party." Such a party cannot be revolutionary. It is no more revolutionary than were the creators of the Third Reich. When we speak of revolution, we speak of the proletarian revolution, the seizure of power by the working class itself.

The "revolutionary party" is based on the idea that the working class needs a new group of leaders who vanquish the bourgeoisie for the workers and construct a new government—(note that the working class is not yet considered fit to reorganize and regulate production.) But is not this as it should be? As the working class does not seem capable of revolution, is it not necessary that the revolutionary vanguard, the party, make the revolution for it? And is this not true as long as the masses willingly endure capitalism?

Against this, we raise the question: what force can such a party raise for the revolution? How is it able to defeat the capitalist class? Only if the masses stand behind it. Only if the masses rise and through mass attacks, mass struggle, and mass strikes, overthrow the old regime. Without the action of the masses, there can be no revolution.

Two things can follow. The masses remain in action: they do not go home and leave the government to the new party. They organize their power in factory and workshop and prepare for further conflict in order to defeat capital; through the workers' councils they establish a form union to take over the complete direction of all society—in other words, they prove, they are not as incapable of revolution as it seemed. Of necessity then, conflict will arise with the party which itself wants to take control and which sees only disorder and anarchy in the self-action of the working class. Possibly the workers will develop their movement and sweep out the party. Or, the party, with the help of bourgeois elements defeats the workers. In either case, the party is an obstacle to the revolution because it wants to be more than a means of propaganda and enlightenment; because it feels itself called upon to lead and rule as a party.

On the other hand the masses may follow the party faith and leave it to the full direction of affairs. They follow the slogans from above, have confidence in the new government (as in Germany and Russia) that is to realize communism—and go back home and to work. Immediately the bourgeoisie exerts its whole class power the roots of which are unbroken; its financial forces, its great intellectual resources, and its economic power in factories and great enterprises. Against this the government party is too weak. Only through moderation, concessions and yielding can it maintain that it is insanity for the workers to try to force impossible demands. Thus the party deprived of class power becomes the instrument for maintaining bourgeois power.

We said before that the term "revolutionary party" was contradictory from a proletarian point of view. We can state it otherwise: in the term "revolutionary party," "revolutionary" always means a bourgeois revolution. Always, when the masses overthrow a government and then allow a new party to take power, we have a bourgeois revolution—the substitution of a ruling caste by a new ruling caste. It was so in Paris in 1830 when the finance bourgeoisie supplanted the landed proprietors, in 1848 when the industrial bourgeoisie took over the reins.

In the Russian revolution the party bureaucracy came to power as the ruling caste. But in Western Europe and America the bourgeoisie is much more powerfully entrenched in plants and banks, so that a party bureaucracy cannot push them aside as easily. The bourgeoisie in these countries can be vanquished only by repeated and united action of the masses in which they seize the mills and factories and build up their council organizations.

Those who speak of "revolutionary parties" draw incomplete, limited conclusions from history. When the Socialist and Communist parties became organs of bourgeois rule for the perpetuation of exploitation, these well-meaning people merely concluded that they would have to do better. They cannot realize that the failure of these parties is due to the fundamental conflict between the self-emancipation of the working class through its own power and the pacifying of the revolution through a new sympathetic ruling clique. They think they are the revolutionary vanguard because they see the masses indifferent and inactive. But the masses are inactive only because they cannot yet comprehend the course of the struggle and the unity of class interests, although they instinctively sense the great power of the enemy and the immenseness of their task. Once conditions force them into action they will attack the task of self-organization and the conquest of the economic power of capital.

State Capitalism and Dictatorship

Anton Pannekoek

From: Rätekorrespondenz, 1936;
English translation: International Council Correspondence, Vol.III, No.1, January 1937;
Written: 1936
Transcription\HTML Markup: Greg Adargo
Source: Kurasje Council Communist Archives

I.

The term “State Capitalism” is frequently used in two different ways: first, as an economic form in which the state performs the role of the capitalist employer, exploiting the workers in the interest of the state. The federal mail system or a state-owned railway are examples of this kind of state capitalism. In Russia, this form of state capitalism predominates in industry: the work is planned, financed and managed by the state; the directors of industry are appointed by the state and profits are considered the income of the state. Second, we find that a condition is defined as state capitalism (or state socialism) under which capitalist enterprises are controlled by the state. This definition is misleading, however, as there still exists under these conditions capitalism in the form of private ownership, although the owner of an enterprise is no longer the sole master, his power being restricted so long as some sort of social insurance system for the workers is accepted.

It depends now on the degree of state interference in private enterprises. If the state passes certain laws affecting employment conditions, such as the hiring and firing of workers, if enterprises are being financed by a federal banking system, or subventions are being granted to support the export trade, or if by law the limit of dividends for the large corporations is fixed – then a condition will be reached under which state control will regulate the entire economic life. This will vary from the strict state capitalism in certain degrees. Considering the present economic situation in Germany we could consider a sort of state capitalism prevailing there. The rulers of big industry in Germany are not subordinated subjects of the state but are the ruling power in Germany thru the fascist officials in the governing offices. The National Socialist Party developed as a tool of these rulers. In Russia, on the other hand, the bourgeoisie was destroyed by the October Revolution and has disappeared completely as a ruling power. The bureaucracy of the Russian government took control of the growing industry. Russian state capitalism could be developed as there was no powerful bourgeoisie in existence. In Germany, as in western Europe and in America, the bourgeoisie is in complete power, the owner of capital and the means of production. This is essential for the character of capitalism. The decisive factor is the character of that class which are the owners in full control of capital and not the inner form of administration nor the degree of state interference in the economic life of the population. Should this class consider it a necessity to bind itself by stricter regulation – a step that would also make the smaller private capitalists more dependent upon the will of the big capitalists – the character of private capitalism would still remain. We must therefore distinguish the difference between state capitalism and such private capitalism that may be regulated to the highest degree by the state.

Strict regulations are not simply to be looked upon as an attempt to find a way out of the crisis. Political considerations also play a part. Examples of state regulation point to one general aim: preparation for war. The war industry is regulated, as well as the farmers' production of food – in order to be prepared for war. Impoverished by the results of the last war – robbed of provinces, raw materials, colonies, capital, the German bourgeoisie must try to rehabilitate its remaining forces by rigorous concentration. Foreseeing war as a last resort, it puts as much of its resources as is necessary into the hands of state control. When faced with the common aim for new world power, the private interests of the various sections of the bourgeoisie are put into the background. All the capitalist powers are confronted with this question: to what extent the state, as the representative of the common interests of the national bourgeoisie, should be entrusted with powers over persons, finances and industry in the international struggle for power? This explains why in those nations of a poor but rapidly increasing population, without any or with but few colonies (such as Italy, Germany, Japan) the state has assumed the greatest power.

One can raise the question: is not state capitalism the only “way out” for the bourgeoisie? Obviously state capitalism would be feasible, if only the whole productive process could be managed and planned centrally from above in order to meet the needs of the population and eliminate crises. If such conditions were brought about, the bourgeoisie would then cease being a real bourgeoisie. In bourgeois society, not only exploitation of the working class exists but there must also exist the constant struggle of the various sections of the capitalist class for markets and for sources of capital investment. This struggle among the capitalists is quite different from the old free competition on the market. Under cover of cooperation of capital within the nation there exists a continuous struggle between huge monopolies. Capitalists cannot act as mere dividend collectors, leaving initiative to state officials to attend to the exploitation of the working class. Capitalists struggle among themselves for profits and for the control of the state in order to protect their sectional interests and their field of action extends beyond the limits of the state. Although during the present crisis a strong concentration took place within each capitalist nation, there still remains powerful international interlacements, (of big capital). In the form of the struggle between nations, the struggle of capitalists continues, whereby a severe political crisis in war and defeat has the effect of an economic crisis.

When, therefore, the question arises whether or not state capitalism – in the sense in which it has been used above – is a necessary intermediate stage before the proletariat seizes power, whether it would be the highest and last form of capitalism established by the bourgeoisie, the answer is No. On the other hand, if by state capitalism one means the strict control and regulation of private capital by the state, the answer is Yes, the degree of state control varying within a country according to time and conditions, the preservation and increase of profits brought about in different ways, depending upon the historical and political conditions and the relationship of the classes.

II.

The goal of the working class is liberation from exploitation. This goal is not reached and cannot be reached by a new directing and governing class substituting the bourgeoisie. It can only be realised by the workers themselves being master over production.

Nevertheless it is possible and quite probable that state capitalism will be an intermediary stage, until the proletariat succeeds in establishing communism. This, however, could not happen for economic but for political reasons. State capitalism would not be the result of economic crises but of the class struggle. In the final stage of capitalism, the class struggle is the most significant force that determines the actions of the bourgeoisie and shapes state economy.

It is to be expected that, as a result of great economic tension and conflict, the class struggle of the future proletariat will flare up into mass action; whether this mass action be the came of wage conflicts wars or economic crises, whether the shape it takes be that of mass strikes, street riots or armed struggle; the proletariat will establish council organizations – organs of self-determination and uniform execution of action. This will particularly be the case in Germany. There the old political organs of the class struggle have been destroyed; workers stand side by side as individuals with no other allegiance but to that of their class. Should far-reaching political movements develop in Germany, the workers could function only as a class, fight only as a class when they oppose the capitalist principle of one-man dictatorship with the proletarian principle of self-determination of the masses. In other parliamentary countries, on the other hand, the workers are severely handicapped in their development of independent class action by the activities of the political parties. These parties promise the working class safer fighting methods, force upon the workers their leadership and make the majority of the population their unthinking followers, with the aid of their propaganda machinery. In Germany these handicaps are a dying tradition.

Such primary mass struggles are only the beginning of a period of revolutionary development. Let us assume a situation favorable to the proletariat; that proletarian action is so powerful as to paralyze and overthrow the bourgeois state. In spite of unanimous action in this respect, the degree of maturity of the masses may vary. A clear conception of aims, ways and means will be acquired only during the process of revolution and after the first victory differences as to further tactics will assert themselves. Socialist or communist party spokesmen appear; they are not dead, at least their ideas are alive among the “moderate” section of the workers. Now their time has come to put into practice their program of “state socialism.”

The most progressive workers whose aim must be to put the leadership of the struggle into the control of the working class by means of the council organization, (thereby weakening the enemy power of the state force) will be encountered by “socialist” propaganda in which will be stressed the necessity of speedily building the socialist order by means of a “socialistic” government. There will be warnings against extreme demands, appeals to the timidity of those individuals to whom the thought of proletarian communism is yet inconceivable, compromises with bourgeois reformists will be advised, as well as the buying-out of the bourgeoisie rather than forcing it thru expropriation to embittered resistance. Attempts will be made to hold back the workers from revolutionary aims – from the determined class struggle. Around this type of propaganda will rally those who feel called upon to be at the head of the party or to assume leadership among the workers. Among these leaders will be a great portion of the intelligentsia who easily adapt themselves to “state socialism” but not to council communism and other sections of the bourgeoisie who see in the workers' struggles a new class position from which they can successfully combat communism. “Socialism against anarchy,” such will be the battle cry of those who will want to save of capitalism what there can be saved.

The outcome of this struggle depends on the maturity of the revolutionary working class. Those who now believe that all one has to do is to wait for revolutionary action, because then economic necessity will teach the workers how to act correctly, are victims of an illusion. Certainly workers will learn quickly and act forcefully in revolutionary times. Meanwhile heavy defeats are likely to be experienced, resulting in the lose of countless victims. The more thorough the work of enlightenment of the proletariat, the more firm will be the attack of the masses against the attempt of “leaders” to direct their actions into the channels of state socialism. Considering the difficulties with which the task of enlightenment now encounters, it seems improbable that there lies open for the workers a road to freedom without setbacks. In this situation are to be found the possibilities for state capitalism as an intermediary stage before the coming of communism.

Thus the capitalist class will not adopt state capitalism became of its own economic difficulties. Monopoly capitalism, particularly when using the state as a fascist dictatorship, can secure for itself most of the advantages of a single organization without giving up its own rule over production. There will be a different situation, however, when it feels itself so far pressed by the working class that the old form of private capitalism can no longer be saved. Then state capitalism will be the way out: the preservation of exploitation in the form of a “socialistic” society, where the “most capable leaders,” the “best brains,” and the “great men of action” will direct production and the masses will work obediently under their command. Whether or not this condition is called state capitalism or state socialism makes no difference in principle. Whether one refers to the first term “State capitalism” as being a ruling and exploiting state bureaucracy or to the second term “State socialism” as a necessary staff of officials who as dutiful and obedient servants of the community share the work with the laborers, the difference in the final analysis lies in the amount of the salaries and the qualitative measure of influence in the party connections.

Such a form of society cannot be stable, it is a form of retrogression, against which the working class will again rise. Under it a certain amount of order can be brought about but production remains restricted. Social development remains hindered. Russia was able, through this form of organization, to change from semi-barbarism to a developed capitalism, to surpass even the achievements of the Western countries' private capitalism. In this process figures the enthusiasm apparent among the “upstart” bourgeois classes, wherever capitalism begins its course. But such state capitalism cannot progress. In Western Europe and in America the same form of economic organization would not be progressive, since it would hinder the coming of communism. It would obstruct the necessary revolution in production; that is, it would be reactionary in character and assume the political form of a dictatorship.

III.

Some Marxists maintain that Marx and Engels foresaw this development of society to state capitalism. But we know of no statement by Marx concerning state capitalism from which we could deduce that he looked upon the state when it assumes the role of sole capitalist, as being the last phase of capitalist society. He saw in the state the organ of suppression, which bourgeois society uses against the working class. For Engels “The Proletariat seizes the power of the state and then changes the ownership of the means of production to state ownership.”

This means that the change of ownership to state ownership did not occur previously. Any attempt to make this sentence of Engels' responsible for the theory of state capitalism, brings Engels into contradiction with himself. Also, there is no confirmation of it to be found in actual occurrences. The railroads in highly developed capitalist countries, like England and America, are still in the private possession of capitalistic corporations. Only the postal and telegraphic services are owned by the states in most countries, but for other reasons than their high state of development. The German railroads were owned by the state mostly for military reasons. The only state capitalism which was enabled to transfer the means of production to state ownership is the Russian, but not on account of their state of high development, rather on account of their low degree of development. There is nothing, however, to be found in Engels which could be applied to conditions as they exist in Germany and Italy today, these are strong supervision regulation, and limitation of liberty of private capitalism by an all-powerful state.

This is quite natural, as Engels was no prophet; he was only a scientist who was well aware of the process of social development. What he expounds are the fundamental tendencies in this development and their significance. Theories of development are best expressed when spoken of in connection with the future; it is therefore not harmful to use caution in expressing them. Less cautious expression, as is often the case with Engels, does not diminish the value of the prognostications in the least, although occurrences do not exactly correspond to predictions. A man of his calibre has a right to expect that even his suppositions be treated with care, although they were arrived at under certain definite conditions. The work of deducing the tendencies of capitalism and their development, and shaping them into consistent and comprehensive theories assures to Marx and Engels a prominent position among the most outstanding thinkers and scientists of the nineteenth century, but the exact description of the social structure of half a century in advance in all its details was an impossibility even for them.

Dictatorships, as those in Italy and Germany, became necessary as means of coercion to force upon the unwilling mass of small capitalists the new order and the regulating limitations. For this reason such dictatorship is often looked upon as the future political form of society of a developed capitalism the world over.

During forty years the socialist press pointed out that military monarchy was the political form of society belonging to a concentrated capitalistic society. For the bourgeois is in need of a Kaiser, the Junkers and the army in defense against a revolutionary working class on one side and the neighboring countries on the other side. For ten years the belief prevailed that the republic was the true form of government for a developed capitalism, because under this form of state the bourgeoisie were the masters. Now the dictatorship is considered to be the needed form of government. Whatever the form may be, the most fitting reasons for it are always found. While at the same time countries like England, France, America and Belgium with a highly concentrated and developed capitalism, retain the same form of parliamentary government, be it under a republic or kingdom. This proves that capitalism chooses many roads leading to the same destination, and it also proves that there should be no haste in drawing conclusions from the experiences in one country to apply to the world at large.

In every country great capital accomplishes its rule by means of the existing political institutions, developed thru history and traditions, whose functions are then being changed expressly. England offers an instance. There the parliamentary system in conjunction with a high measure of personal liberty and autonomy are so successful that there is no trace whatever of socialism, communism or revolutionary thought among the working classes. There also monopolistic capitalism grew and developed. There, too, capitalism dominates the government. There, too, the government takes measures to overcome the results of the depression, but they manage to succeed without the aid of a dictatorship. This does not make England a democracy, because already a half a century ago two aristocratic cliques of politicians held the government alternately, and the same conditions prevail today. But they are ruling by different means; in the long run these means may be more effective than the brutal dictatorship. Compared with Germany, the even and forceful rule of English capitalism looks to be the more normal one. In Germany the pressure of a police-government forced the workers into radical movements, subsequently the workers obtained external political power, not thru the efforts of a great inner force within themselves, but thru the military debacle of their rulers, and eventually they saw that power destroyed by a sharp dictatorship, the result of a petty bourgeois revolution which was financed by monopolistic capital. This should not be interpreted to mean that the English form of government is really the normal one, and the German the abnormal one; just as it would be wrong to assume the reverse. Each case must be judged separately, each country has the kind of government which grew out of its own course of political development.

Observing America, we find in this land of greatest concentration of monopolistic capital as little desire to change to a dictatorship as we find in England. Under the Roosevelt administration certain regulations and actions were effected in order to relieve the results of the depression, some were complete innovations. Among these there was also the beginning of a social policy, which was hitherto entirely absent from American politics. But private capital is already rebelling and is already feeling strong enough to pursue its own course in the political struggle for power. Seen from America, the dictatorships in several European countries appear like a heavy armour, destructive of liberty, which the closely pressed-in nations of Europe must bear, because inherited feuds whip them on to mutual destruction, but not as what they really are, purposeful forms of organization of a most highly developed capitalism.

The arguments for a new labor movement, which we designate with the name of Council-Communism, do not find their basis in state capitalism and fascist dictatorship. This movement represents a vital need of the working classes and is bound to develop everywhere. It becomes a necessity because of the colossal rise of the power of capital, because against a power of this magnitude the old forms of labor movement become powerless, therefore labor must find new means of combat. For this reason any program principles for the new labor movement can be based on neither state capitalism, fascism, nor dictatorship as their causes, but only the constantly growing power of capital and the impotence of the old labor movement to cope with this power.

For the working classes in fascist countries both conditions prevail, for there the risen power of capital is the power holding the political as well as the economic dictatorship of the country. When there the propaganda for new forms of action connects with the existence of the dictatorship, it is as it should be. But it would be folly to base an international program on such principles forgetting that conditions in other countries differ widely from those in fascist countries.

Communism and its Tactics

Sylvia Pankhurst

Source: www.geocities.com/~johngray/pank00.htm;
Proofed: and corrected by Chris Clayton, 2006;
Two versions of Communism and its Tactics were serialised in Workers Dreadnought, the first between November 1921 and March 1922, the second – evidently left unfinished – between January and March 1923. The first parts of each were essentially identical, however the other parts were substantially re-written for the 1923 serialisation. Both versions are reprinted here in full.
An edited and modified version of the 1921/22 version was published by Mark Shipway in 1982.

Table of Contents

First Version

Proofed and corrected by Chris Clayton, 2006;

Part One – November 26th, 1921
Part Two – December 3rd 1921
Part Three – December 10 1921
Part Four – December 24th 1921/January 21st 1922
Part Five – January 28th 1922
Part Six – February 4th 1922
Part Seven – March 11th 1922

Second Version

Part One – January 27th 1923
Part Two – February 3rd 1923
Part Three – February 10th 1923
Part Four – February 24th 1923
Part Five – March 3rd 1923
Part Six – March 10th 1923

First Version

Part One

Workers Dreadnought VOL. VIII. No. 37 Saturday, November 26th, 1921

Under Communism all shall satisfy their material needs without stint or measure from the common storehouse, according to their desires. Everyone will be able to have what he or she desires in food, in clothing, books, music, education and travel facilities. The abundant production now possible, and which invention will constantly facilitate, will remove any need for rationing or limiting of consumption.

Every individual, relying on the great common production, will be secure from material want and anxiety.

There will be no class distinctions, since these arise from differences in material possessions, education and social status — all such distinctions will be swept away.

There will be neither rich nor poor. Money will no longer exist, and none will desire to hoard commodities not in use, since a fresh supply may be obtained at will. There will be no selling, because there will be no buyers, since everyone will be able to obtain everything at will, without payment.

The possession of private property, beyond that which is in actual personal use, will disappear.

There will be neither masters nor servants, all being in a position of economic equality — no individual will be able to become the employer of another.

All children will be educated up to adult age, and all adults will be able to make free, unstinted use of all educational facilities in their abundant leisure.

Stealing, forgery, burglary, and all economic crimes will disappear, with all the objectionable apparatus for preventing, detecting and punishing them.

Prostitution will become extinct; it is a commercial transaction, dependent upon the economic need of the prostitute and the customer’s power to pay.

Sexual union will no longer be based upon material conditions, but will be freely contracted on the basis of affection and mutual attraction.

The birth of children will cease to be prevented by reason of poverty.

Material anxiety being removed, and the race for wealth eliminated, other objects and ambitions will take the place of the personal struggle for individual material existence; since all will benefit from the labour of all honour will be done, not to the wealthy, as at present, but to those who are skilful and zealous in the common service.

Emulation in work will take the place of emulation in wealth.

With the disappearance of the anxious struggle for existence, which saps the energy and cripples initiative, a new vigour, a new independence will develop. People will have more courage to desire freedom, greater determination to possess it. They will be more exacting in their demands upon life, more fastidious as to their choice of a vocation. They will wish to work at what they enjoy, to order their lives as they desire. Work will be generally enjoyed as never before in the history of mankind.

The desire for freedom will be tempered by the sense of responsibility towards the commonweal, which will provide security for all.

Public opinion provides a stronger, more general compulsion than any penal code, and public opinion will strongly disapprove idleness and waste.

To secure the abundant production necessary to Communism, and to cope with the ever-growing complexity of modern life and requirements, large-scale production and co-operative effort is necessary. The people of today would not be willing to go back to producing everything by hand in domestic workshops; were they to do so, they could not maintain the population in comfort and with reasonable leisure. The people of today would be unwilling to abandon all the productive factories, the trains, the electric generating stations and so on. The retention of such things necessitates the working-together of large numbers of people. As soon as numbers of people are working together and supplying with their products numbers of other people, some sort of organisation of work and of distribution becomes inevitable. The work itself cannot be carried on without organisation. In each industry, either the workers concerned in the work must form and control the organisation, or they will be under the dominion of the organisers. The various industries are interlocked in interest and utility; therefore the industrial organisations must be interlocked.

When wages have disappeared, when all are upon a basis of economic equality, when the position of manager, director, organiser, etc., brings no material advantage, the desire for it will be less widespread and less keen, and the danger of oppressive action by the management will be largely nullified. Nevertheless, management imposed on unwilling subordinates will not be tolerated; where the organiser has chosen the assistants, the assistants will be free to leave, or change him; where the assistants choose the organiser, they will be free to change him. Co-operation for the common good is necessary, but freedom, not domination, is the goal.

Since co-operative work and mutual reliance on mutual aid renders some kind of organisation necessary, the best possible form of organisation must be chosen: the test of its worth is its efficiency and the scope for freedom and initiative it allows to each of its units.

The Soviet structure of committees and delegates, built up from the base of the workshop and village assembly, presents the best form of organisation yet evolved; it arises naturally when the workers are thrown upon their own resources in the matter of government.

The Soviet structure will undoubtedly be the organisational structure of Communism, at any rate for some time to come. We live always, however, in a state of flux, and there is and happily can be, no permanence about human institutions; there is always the possibility of something higher, as yet undiscovered.

The overthrow of Capitalism precedent to the establishment of Communism will be resisted by the possessors of wealth. Thus Capitalism will only be overthrown by revolution.

The revolution can only come when conditions are ripe for it; but opportunities may be missed: the rising may fail to take place at the opportune moment, or it may fail by mismanagement of the proletarian forces. A partial success may be achieved, and if Capitalism is not completely destroyed, it may afterwards re-establish itself, as it speedily did in Hungary, as it is gradually doing in Russia.

Part Two

Workers Dreadnought, December 3rd 1921

Since the overthrow of capitalism would be resisted by the possessors of wealth, whether this were effected by Act of Parliament or by a sudden revolt of the people, it is absolutely necessary for the Communists to prepare the working class for such resistance. Many people still doubt that capitalist resistance to the overthrow of capitalism will go to the length of civil war, yet there is abundant contemporary evidence to prove that such resistance will be made.

Here in Britain we have the Ulster capitalists’ preparations for armed resistance to the Asquith Home Rule Act. The civil war threats and preparations by Ulster Capitalism were and are supported by British Toryism. That is why it succeeds. Since British and Ulster landlords and capitalists have thought it worthwhile to resort to the extreme of civil war on the Irish question how absolutely certain it is that they would do so to prevent the establishment of Communism and proletarian rule!

In Finland, in Central Europe, in Russia, the same thing has been seen; when capitalism is in danger capitalism resorts to force of arms to protect itself. In Italy too, the fascisti, with their armed attacks on Communists, Socialists, Trade Unionists, and Co-operators; attacks organised by the Capitalists who use these disorderly bands as their tools, are but another evidence of the same fact: when the established order is in danger its beneficiaries arm to protect it; its supporters and opponents come to blows, civil war breaks out and for the time being peace is no more.

Is that as it should be? It is as it is. The inevitable must be recognised and prepared for. A determined struggle for supremacy inevitably accompanies the overthrow of capitalism.

Experience shows that the crisis arises suddenly: the old relationship has been growing more and more strained, and suddenly the bonds are snapped and the storm bursts. We do not say that a Parliamentary crisis could not be the last straw that would precipitate the revolution, but in none of the contemporary revolutions has this been so. We have now the experience of Russia, Finland, Germany (where there have been a revolution and several attempts at further revolution), in Austria and Hungary to look to.

Great economic pressure, fired by a great rebellion against the actions and ideology of those who have been in power, is the factor which produces the proletarian revolution. Parliament must be overthrown with the capitalist system if the proletarian revolution is to succeed there must be a clean break with the old institutions of Government; the revolution must create its own instrument.

Parliament would have to be sacrificed with the overthrow of capitalism, even were it conceivable that an Act of Parliament will formally abolish the capitalist system. The capitalists would resist by force the first attempt to put the Act into practice, and Parliament is not the body that could carry the proletarian revolution through to success in face of capitalist revolt, which would be one of both armed and passive resistance.

The workers would be compelled to meet such a revolt with all the forces at their disposal; their most characteristic weapon is their industrial power, for the effective wielding of which they would have to be co-ordinated industrially. Every industry would be divided against itself; the owners and part of the management would take the capitalist side, the mass of the workers the side of the working class. As in all the countries where the revolutionary crisis has appeared, the naval and military forces would be divided in the same way, though the old training and discipline would probably cause a larger proportion of the working class rank-and-file to support the side of the master class than would be the case in industry.

A little consideration of such a situation must reveal to anyone who thinks seriously that Parliament and the local governing bodies; the county and borough councils, the boards of guardians, and so on, could not be the guiding and co-ordinating machinery of such a struggle; that such machinery could take no other form than that of the Soviets.

Even in a war between rival capitalist governments Parliament becomes a cipher in the struggle; the machinery that carries out the war is the Cabinet composed of the heads of the various Departments of State, all very much controlled by the expert managers of those departments. On the military side the political and military heads of the War Office work in contact with a machine which is composed of all the officers from the highest to the lowest in the army, and the men under their command. On the industrial side the political and technical heads of the departments work through a machine which is composed of the owners, managers and workers in all industries, factories, workshops.

So it will be in the proletarian revolution, but this being a struggle between the workers and their masters, the officers and the managers will be proletarian leaders chosen by their fellows. And contact with the rank and file will be by delegates and mass meetings. The services of the rank [and] file will not be based on compulsion and wagery, but on consent and enthusiasm and a voice in responsibility for aims and policies.

War experience will show us that even capitalism found that shop stewards and councils on which Trade Union officials co-operated with the management were helpful in securing greater output, which was necessary to their success in war.

Some people may say that the Soviets could be abandoned and Parliament reverted to after the clash of civil war had passed; and that, as they hope there may be no such clash, they will not interest themselves in the question of Soviets. Further consideration should show them, however, that even were hope of avoiding a struggle with capitalism justified, Parliament would have to go and the Soviets would become necessary at least for some time after the overthrow of capitalism.

Consider the position here in London with capitalism abolished; the tubes, trams and buses, the main line stations, the docks, the reservoirs, the gas works, the electric generating stations, the bakeries, food preserving, clothing and other factories, the slaughter-houses, butchers, bakers, greengrocers, grocers and other wholesale and retail shops and the markets. Millions of people are waiting for their daily supply of milk and bread to be brought round to them, to find their daily supply of provender in the shops where they deal, their habitual means of transport. If any of these things stop, then at least some people will not arrive at their daily work, and masses of others may thus be deprived of accustomed necessaries. Perhaps the workers are already engaged in a general strike; perhaps the wheels of industry and transport are already dislocated, and everyone is already living a hungry, makeshift existence.

Whichever way it be, everything has to be reorganised and built up on a new basis; production for use, not for profit, and capitalism is overthrown. Undoubtedly some of those who used to manage the big concerns under the old system have refused to function any more; undoubtedly many others can not be trusted to occupy such important positions of trust; already they have shown their hostility and have taken to sabotage. And there are the people, the hungering millions of all sorts, clamouring to have their wants supplied, each with their peculiarities, their likes and dislikes, their reasonable and unreasonable prejudices, and crowds of them ready to start looting if they are kept waiting or denied what they are accustomed to have and what they think is their due. Everyone, both as worker and consumer, has new hopes and desires and new claims upon life, for has not the Workers’ Revolution come? Everyone demands more leisure and more congenial labour, more food, more clothes, more pleasure; only the patient people are prepared to wait, and everyone is finding his daily work, assuming he is prepared to do it as of old, quite dislocated. Everyone, too, is demanding a new independent status, and a share in deciding how things shall be done.

Imagine bringing unfortunate Parliament into such a dilemma. Frank Hodges and T.C. Cramp besieged by a mob of Westminster housewives who cannot obtain either fish or butter. Will Thorne, who is told the electricity supply is cut off in all the suburbs. Ramsay Macdonald, some of whose constituents are tramping to London to tell him that Leicester can get no coal.

The only chance for that Parliament would be to call the Industrial Soviets into being!

As to the borough councils: we remember the little matter of the food rationing, and the groups of housewives here and there who, through the muddles of the local food committee and the Ministry of Food, found themselves as “outlanders” prohibited from buying at the shops where they had hitherto dealt, and unable to procure commodities anywhere else.

The only people who could deal with the great new situation would be the people who do the work and the people who use the produce. All interlocked as they are in this busy hive of overcrowded life the Soviets would be the only solution. The workers in the factory in a turmoil of dislocation would come together and talk the matter over; appoint one of their number to answer the telephone, another to fetch supplies; others to take stock; others, according to their capacities, to mind the various machines, others to acquaint the absentees that the factory is at work again, others as organisers and instructors. They would send to the workers in other factories for more supplies and organise exchanges.

The women rushing frantically about in search of supplies, and threatening to start looting and rioting because their children are hungry, would be called together by the more level-headed, would enumerate their wants and place their demands before the workers responsible for production and transport.

Part Three

Workers Dreadnought December 10 1921

In Russia all this was done, and over vast districts, under the spur of need without preliminary thought or organisation.

In this country the workers cannot leave things to chance. Capitalism is highly organised here and will defeat the workers’ revolution again and again, unless the workers are organised efficiently. Moreover, in London and in the vast chains of towns which form our industrial districts we are so closely massed on the ground, so absolutely dependent on food brought in from outside, and upon the collective service of the whole industrial community, that unless production and distribution is well organised we must speedily starve.

It will go hard with us if we have not created the machinery before the hour of revolution strikes.

The machinery of the Soviets must obviously follow, and does so far as it is successful, the lines of need. Each workshop has its meetings and elects its delegates to a factory committee. The factory will also have its mass meetings of all workers on occasion. Every factory will be united to the factories of the same industry in the district through its committee of delegates, and in the same way will be co-ordinated with every factory in the same industry in the country. These are the bodies which will meet and discuss what concerns the industry, but for matters which concern the district in which the workers live and work they will go to mass meetings or send delegates to committees from all the industries in the district. The housekeepers will have their own meetings also, and they, too, will go to mass meetings or send delegates to the producing industries when arrangements are to be made between them.

All this will be done purely by way of managing affairs so that all may be, as far as possible, satisfied that the needs of all may be explained and understood by those who have to supply them.

But there should be no compulsion; some people may say: “What the majority decide is good enough for me.” Others will say: “I like to have a voice in it.” As a rule, when things affecting a group of people who are working together come up for decision everyone of the group will join in and give his or her opinion, and generally the thing will be decided by mutual agreement.

The Dictatorship of the Proletariat

The dictatorship of the proletariat is a much misused phrase; when Communism is in being there will be no proletariat, as we understand the term today, and no dictatorship.

The dictatorship, so far as it is genuine and defensible, is the suppression by Workers’ Soviets of capitalism and the attempt to re-establish it. This should be a temporary state of war. Such a period will inevitably occur, we believe, because we do not believe that the possessors of wealth will submit to the overthrow of capitalism without resistance. On the contrary, [we] believe the owners will fight to preserve capitalism by every means in their power.

Whilst the capitalists are openly fighting the workers who have seized the power, fighting them openly and secretly in armed battalions in guerilla bands, by ambush assassination bombs, sabotage, spies; then the proletariat must maintain a vigilant war service and dictatorship. The situation in Ireland before the truce is a little like what a proletarian dictatorship may have to cope with.

Once, however, the war is over, once the capitalist and his allies have given up any serious attempt to re-establish capitalism, then away with dictatorship; away with compulsion.

Compulsion of any kind is repugnant to the Communist ideal. No-one may make a wage-slave of another; no-one may hoard up goods for himself that he does not require and cannot use; but the only way to prevent such practices is not by making them punishable; it is by creating a society in which no-one needs to become a wage slave, and no-one cares to be cumbered with a private hoard of goods when all that he needs is readily supplied as he needs it from the common storehouse.

Compulsory education for children has been a protection for children in this capitalist society when parents are poor and grasping enough to desire the earnings of their children or to suffer from the burden of their maintenance, but when all things that nature and mankind produce are free in abundance for the asking what parents would deny education to their children; what children would submit with the school-door freely open?

Part Four

Workers Dreadnought December 24th 1921 and January 21st 1922

We have seen that the Soviets are destined both to provide the organisational machinery of Communist society and to act as the instrument of the proletarian dictatorship during the transitional period in which, whilst capitalism has been overthrown, the dispossessed owners have not yet settled down to accept the new order. The Soviets may also conduct the fight for the actual overthrow of Capitalism, though in Russia the power was actually seized by the Bolshevik Party; then handed to the Soviets.

Let us consider the essential structure of the Soviet, its particular characteristic, wherein lies its special fitness to function as the administrative machinery of the Communist community.

The Soviet is constructed along the lines of production and distribution; it replaces not merely Parliament and the present local governing bodies, but also the capitalists, managerial staffs and employees of today with all their ramifications. The functional units of the Soviets are the groups of workers of all grades, including those engaged in management in the factory, the dockyard, the mine, the farm, the warehouse, the office, the distributive store, the school, the hospital, the printing shop, the laundry, the restaurant, and the domestic workers in the communal household, the street or block of dwellings.

The generally accepted theoretical structure of the Soviet community is as follows:

Industrial Co-ordination

The Workshop Committee: comprising all the workers in the shop.

The Factory Committee: comprising delegates from the Workshop Committees.

The District Committee: comprising delegates from the factory or sub-district committees of the workers in the industry, and from district committees of distributive workers engaged in distributing the products of the industry.

The National Committee: composed of delegates from district committees.

Inter-industrial Co-ordination

District and Sub-District Committees: Delegates from district or sub district committees of industries (including factories, docks, farms, laundries, restaurants, centres of distribution, schools, domestic workers, parks, theatres, etc., workers in all branches of social activity being represented).

National Committee: comprising delegates of district committees of all industries and works of social activity.

Thus there is a dual machinery: 1. For the organisation and co-ordination of each industry and social activity; 2. for the linking together of all industries and social activities.

The network of committees of delegates which makes up the framework of the Soviets and links the many productive groups, and also individual producers should not be regarded as a rigid, cast-iron machinery, but as a convenient means of transacting necessary business, a practical method of inter-organisation which gives everyone the opportunity of a voice in social management. The members of a community are dependent upon each other. The cotton spinning mill is operated by a number of groups of workers practising various crafts. The workers in the spinning mill are dependent for the execution of their work on the cotton growers, the railwaymen, the mariners, and the dockers, who provide them with the raw material of their trade. They are dependent on machine makers, miners, electricians and others for the machinery of spinning and the power to run it, and on the weaver, the bleacher, the dyer, the printer, the garment worker and upholsterer to complete the work they have begun. In order that the spinners may do their work they are also dependent on builders, decorators, furniture makers, food producers, garment makers, and innumerable others whose labours are necessary to maintain them in health and efficiency.

At present it is the employer who directs, the merchant who co-ordinates and distributes social production. When capitalism is destroyed another medium of direction, co-ordination and distribution must be discovered, the productive processes must not fall into chaos. The Soviets will supply the necessary medium of co-ordination and direction; but they must become a medium of convenience, not of compulsion; otherwise there can be no genuine Communism.

In Russia the Soviet constitution has only been very partially applied, and has not been theoretically regular in structure, and is still constantly subject to large modifications.

The Russian Soviets had not been created in advance in preparation for the revolution of March, 1917: they sprang into life in the time of crisis. They had arisen in the revolution of 1905, but had died away at its fall. The March, 1917, revolution only created Soviets in a few centres, and though their number grew and was added to by the November Bolshevik revolution, even yet the network of Soviets is incomplete. Kameneff, reporting on this question to the seventh all-Russian Congress of Soviets in 1920, stated that even where Soviets existed their general assemblies were often rare, and when held frequently only listened to a few speeches and dispersed without transacting any real business.

Nevertheless, the Soviet government had claimed that the number of Soviets actually functioning has grown continuously; yet it freely admits that the Soviets have taken neither so active nor so responsible a part as they should in the creation and management of the new community. Russia’s “new economic policy” of reversion to capitalism strikes at the root of the Soviet idea and destroys the functional status of the Soviets.

Russia’s special difficulties in applying the Soviet system were inherent in the backward state of the country which had only partially progressed from feudalism into capitalism. In industry the small home producer still accounted for 60 per cent of Russia’s industrial production. In agriculture the peasants had not yet been divorced from the land as is the case in England, where we have long had a completely landless class of rural workers. In Russia the ideal of the land worker was to produce for himself on his own holding and to sell his products, not to work in co-operation with others. The Russian peasants, vastly outnumbering the rest of the population, were all but unanimous in their demands. Those who had no land were determined to get a piece for themselves, and those who had a little piece of land wanted more. Though their individualism was tempered by the old custom of periodically re-dividing the land and other village traditions, the peasants were an influence against Communism. Nevertheless, their ancient village council, the Mir, a survival from the period of primitive Communism, had somewhat prepared them for the Soviets.

In the scattered village communities the occupational character of the Soviet is apparently somewhat submerged in the territorial; yet all the subsidiary crafts of the villages are attendant on the great industry of agriculture. Ties of common interest and mutual dependence, which are the life-blood of the Soviet, are clearly apparent between the land workers and the various craftsmen of the village. The blurring of the occupational character of the village Soviet does not detract from its function of an administrative unit in harmony with the actual conditions of the country. On the other hand, the fact that the town Soviets could not supply it with the industrial products it needed, by weakening the link of mutual usefulness, making the usefulness merely one-sided, removed the natural impetus of the Soviets of the villages to link themselves for utilitarian reasons with the Soviets of the towns. Production by individual producers who are competing with each other creates sources of conflict which are antagonistic to the Soviet. The strongest and most useful Soviet must always be that which is formed of those who are working together and who realise at every turn that they are dependent on each other. The necessity for the Soviet becomes more pronounced and its work more varied the more that work is carried on in common and the more closely the lives of the people are related to each other. Mankind is gregarious; the degree of gregariousness in human beings is partly dependant on material conditions, partly on inclination (which is doubtless largely, if not wholly, the slow product of long environment). As humanity secures a completer mastery over matter, individual choice as to how life shall be spent, becomes broader and more free; science will more and more enable desire to determine the degree of industrial concentration. Our civilisation has perhaps nearly reached the limit of the tendency to gather together ever greater and greater numbers of workers, performing some tiny mechanical operation as attendants to machinery. Perhaps the future has in store for us an entirely opposite development. That would not effect the fact that the Soviet must find its most congenial soil in a society based on mutual aid and mutual dependence.

In the industrial centres where it might have been expected that the occupational basis of the Soviet would have been adhered to, the structure of the Russian Soviets was irregular from the theoretical standpoint. The Soviets, instead of being formed purely of workers in the various industries and activities of the community, were composed also of delegates of political parties, political groups formed by foreigners in Russia, Trades Councils, Trade Unions and co-operative societies. Pravda of April 18th, 1918, published the following regulations for the Moscow Soviet elections:—

“Regulations for Representation.

“Establishments employing 200 to 500 workers, one representative; those employing over 500, send one representative for every 500 men. Establishments employing less than 200 workers, combine for purpose of representation with other small establishments.
“Ward Soviets send two deputies, elected at a plenary session.
“Trade Unions with a membership not exceeding 2,000, send one deputy; not exceeding 5,000, two deputies; above 5,000, one for every 5,000 workers, but not more than ten deputies for any one union.
“The Moscow Trades’ Council sends five deputies.
“Political parties send 30 deputies to the Soviet: the seats are allotted to the parties in proportion to their membership, providing the parties include four representatives of industrial establishments and organised workers.
“Representatives of the following National non-Russian Socialist parties, one representative per party, are allotted seats:—
(a) “Bund” (Jewish).
(b) Polish Socialist Party (Left).
(c) Polish and Lithuanian Social Democratic Parties.
(d) Lettish Social Democratic Party.
(e) Jewish Social Democratic Party.”

The intention in giving representation to these various interests was, of course, to disarm their antagonism to the Soviet power and to secure their co-operation instead; but the essential administrative character of the Soviets was thereby sacrificed. Constituted thus they must inevitably discuss political antagonisms rather than the production and distribution of social utilities and amenities.

The industrial unions, economic councils and co-operative societies which have been a feature of Soviet Russia (the two former having representation in the Soviets) have no place, because they have no reason for existence, under an efficient Soviet system, in which they would be absorbed into the occupational Soviets and indistinguishably fused with them.

Industrial unions can have no reason for existence if the Soviets are fulfilling efficiently their proper function as the administrative machinery of the Communist community, for the Soviets should cover the same constituencies as the industrial unions. The industrial unions will only exist so long as there is either a conflict between the workers and the Soviets (which are theoretically the organs of the workers), or in case the Soviets are failing to administer industry or administer it efficiently. The very existence of the Industrial Union, unless it be merely a social club, denotes an antagonism between the members of the union and those who are administering industry; unless, on the other hand, the Soviets are failing to administer industry and the unions are formed for that purpose. In Russia, as a matter of fact, the continued existence of the industrial unions is due to the fact that there it antagonism between the workers and those who are administering industry. In a theoretically correct Soviet community the workers, through their Soviets, which are indistinguishable from them, should administer. This has not been achieved in Russia.

Co-operatives have no place in a genuine Soviet community. If they are distributive organisations purely, they should be the distributive branches of the industrial Soviets. If they are organs of buying and selling, they are survivals of capitalism and must disappear under Communism. If they are associations of producers they can only differ from industrial Soviets in so far as they exact payment in cash or kind for their produce instead of distributing it freely. In so far as they exact payment or practice barter, they have no place in a Soviet community.

The curious overlapping patchwork which has hitherto made up the Russian Soviet system should by no means be slavishly copied. The Russians themselves have emphasised that. Nevertheless, the recent tactics which they have induced the Third International to adopt do not indicate that they have a clear perception that a highly organised industrial community may build the new Communist order on the theoretically correct foundation of the occupational Soviets.

Part Five

Workers Dreadnought January 28th 1922

Zinoviev, at the Second Congress of the Third International in Moscow, introduced a Thesis declaring that no attempt should be made to form Soviets prior to the outbreak of the revolutionary crisis. It was argued that, as such bodies would be powerless, or nearly so, their formation might bring the conception of the Soviets into proletarian contempt. The Thesis was adopted by the Congress, without discussion, and thereby became an axiom of the Third International.

The question as to whether the mere borrowed term, Soviet, shall be reserved for use in the actual crisis of revolution is of small importance though, if not used previously, it would probably miss being adopted as the slogan of the revolution.

The question of postponing the creation of the actual organisation till the hour of a revolutionary crisis is, on the other hand, a fundamental one.

The idea expressed and insisted upon in that Thesis of Zinoviev’s was that the Soviet must be a great mass movement, coming together in the electrical excitement of the crisis; the correctness of its structure, its actual Sovietness (to coin an adjective), being considered of secondary importance. A progressive growth, gradually branching out till the hour of crisis; a strong and well-tried organisation is not contemplated by the Thesis. The need for carefully conceived structure is ignored. Propaganda for the Soviets alone is recommended.

Russia’s dual Revolution was an affair of spontaneous outbursts, with no adequate organisation behind it. The Trade Unions, always a feeble growth, were crushed by the Czardom at the outbreak of the great war of 1914. The Revolutionary political parties could call for a revolution; they could not carry it through: that was accomplished by the action of the revolutionary elements in the Army and Navy, in the workshops, on the railways, and on the land. That these revolutionaries at the point of production were mainly unorganised was a disability, not an advantage. In Russia the government first of the Czar, then of Kerensky, crumbled readily under the popular assault. The disability arising from the disorganised state of the workers was not felt in its full weightiness until after the Soviet Government had been established. Then it was realised that, though the Soviets were supposed to have taken power, the Soviet structure had yet to be created and made to function. The structure is still incomplete: it has functioned hardly at all. Administration has been largely by Government departments, working often without the active, ready co-operation, sometimes even with the hostility of groups of workers who ought to have been taking a responsible share in administration. To this cause must largely be attributed Soviet Russia’s defeat on the economic front.

It would be monstrous folly for workers in other countries, especially in highly industrialised countries where Capitalism is old, to imitate Russia’s unpreparedness. We in Britain have an infinitely stronger Capitalism to overturn: we have greater opportunities of creating the organisation necessary to fight it.

This organisation must be able both to attack and destroy Capitalism in the final struggle, and also to replace the administrative machinery of Capitalism. Moreover it must be animated by the will to these achievements.

We have at present no such organisation in this country.

Our Trade Unions have neither the will, nor the capacity for the purpose. We are nearest industrial unionism in mining and transport and on the land, but even there we have several competing Unions in each industry. In the textile, metal, food preparing, wood-working, clothing, and building industries, we have a multiplicity of little-co-ordinated organisations. Moreover, the great mass of the workers is divided into two sections: the skilled and the unskilled: organised into quite separate Unions and divided by impassable barriers which have been jealously erected and maintained by the skilled workers.

The structure of the Trade Unions is antiquated and fruitful of delays. It is highly undemocratic, some Unions have first and second class members, the former, of ten or more years’ standing, alone being eligible for office; some elect their executive for eight years or some other long term; some hold no general congress of branch representatives. The rank and file members of the Unions have little or no voice in deciding the larger issues of policy. The executive usually determining the policy to be pursued at national conferences with other bodies. The rules, which are registered with the capitalist Government’s Registrar General, cannot be changed without long and hard effort. Under normal circumstances it must take many years to change them appreciably. The rules and structure of the Unions would place a handicap upon any serious attempt that might be made to remould the Unions in order that they might function with some sort of efficiency in the attack on Capitalism and in the administration of industry after Capitalism were overthrown.

The rules and structure are even a serious handicap in the daily struggle to palliate Capitalism, which is what the Unions exist for.

The Union officials who, almost to a man, desire the retention of the capitalist system, fear, above all things, any serious attack upon it, are aided and protected in their conservatism by the Union rules.

The reactionary officials have, however, a stronger buttress and protection in the backward masses, who vastly outnumber the awakened workers in the Trade Unions. It is only in the advanced stages of the Revolution that the great masses will discern the gulf between themselves and their reactionary leaders. This is one of the reasons why another organisation is necessary. Such an organisation must reveal to the masses the true character of their leaders, and offer them an alternative policy.

The Trade Unions are composed of masses of workers who did not become members of the Unions with the object of changing the social system, but merely to palliate it. Latterly men and women have even been forced into the Unions, because Trade Unions had become strong enough to insure that those who refused to join would have difficulty in obtaining employment. With such a membership, the Trade Unions are naturally timid, conservative bodies, apt to oppose drastic change and unready to take any bold initiative.

We believe that such Trade Unions can never deliberately precipitate a revolution. In this matter, theory is supported by experience. In Russia the revolution was not made by the hardly-existing Trade Unions. After the first revolution the Central Council of Soviets laboured to form Trade Unions. Some of the Unions it had formed then opposed retention of power by the Soviets, worked against all tendencies towards Communism, and gave their support to the demand for a bourgeois republic, with Capitalism re-established in power.

In Germany, the Trade Unions, so far from leading the various proletarian uprisings, took no official part except to oppose them.

To administer in place of Capitalism, as well as to overthrow it, the workers should be organised with all, and more than all, the efficiency and coherence of Capitalism. In this country, Capitalism itself, though tremendously better equipped than in Russia under the Czardom, still lacks co-ordination. As a medium for supplying the people’s needs, it suffers on the one hand from the competition and overlapping of private interests; and, on the other, from shortage and lack in districts where the small means of the people do not render it profitable to supply them efficiently. Every day British Capitalism is remedying some of its organisational defects, at least, some of those due to its own internal capitalist rivalries.

From banking, where we have nearly arrived at a single trust, to tea-shops, where Lyons is absorbing competitor after competitor, co-ordination and the elimination of competition is going on constantly. Trustification has not yet developed nearly so far in Britain as in Germany, where the combination of the powerful capitalist, Stinnes, links up coal and ore mining, smelting, and the manufacture, shipping and marketing of all sorts of metal goods; forestry, wood-working, paper-making, printing and publishing; tram, train, and sea travel, and the provision of hotel accommodation; the production and supply of electricity in all its branches, and a host of other activities.

British Capitalist organisation will rapidly become more closely knit under pressure of the competition which is rising up against it all over the world: in Britain’s own colonies and dominions, in America, in the growing industrialism of Poland, Italy, and other European countries, above all in Germany, whose Capitalism, still more since the war that was meant to crush it, is Britain’s keenest rival.

We should welcome the trustification of industry, in so far as it is a co-ordination along the lines of convenience and utility in producing and distributing what is needed by the populace. We should welcome it also because it provides the means of linking up the workers into a closely-knit fighting organisation; an organisation which can step in and displace the capitalist, and, having done so, shall be able to carry on production and distribution.

Such an organisation may be built up by organising the workers in the co-ordinated centres of production and distribution along the lines of the Trust itself. The Trade Unions are not thus organised.

Although Trustification has not yet developed very far in Britain, British employers of labour are much better organised than British workers. Employers’ Associations and Trade Journals bind the employers together in all industries, and a much greater degree of solidarity is shown by the employing class than by the working class when a trade dispute arises. In this country Trade Unionism has never achieved the general strike: it has even shrunk from attempting any large-scale sympathetic strike. In this respect British Trade Unionism is behind that of most European countries. Both ideologically and structurally it is distinctly outdistanced by its continental contemporaries. Indeed, it is solely on the size of its membership that the British Trade Union movement has claimed to be the strongest in the world. As a body of action it would gain in strength if it could be ruthlessly pruned of its more backward members.

The trustification and co-ordination of industry under Capitalism has for many years been causing a perpetual discussion upon industrial unionism to be carried on in the Labour movement; but the result in actual improvements in the Union structure has been surprisingly small.

That rapid wartime growth, the Shop Stewards’ organisation, in a few months co-ordinated the workers in the munition factories and shipyards with an efficient completeness the Trade Unions had never approached, and made the Stewards’ movement a coherent acting force, such as the Trade Unions had never been. This development shows that the task of organising the workers in accordance with Capitalist organisation, in which the Trade Unions have hitherto failed, may readily be accomplished by building upon a new basis, unhindered by the trammels of the old machinery and the prejudices and vested interests of the old officials.

It may, perhaps, be objected that since the Shop Stewards’ organisation dwindled at the close of the war and has all but passed away, there are elements of permanency in the Trade Unions which the Shop Stewards did not possess. That is true. The Trade Unions remained in possession of their accumulated funds, and were adding to these funds week by week, for the workers continued paying their Trade Union dues week by week; although the Trade Unions were functioning only as benefit societies, whilst the rank and file workers themselves were doing, through their shop committees and their elected stewards, the work for which the Unions were created. The Unions retained possession of the funds and the friendly benefits. When the boom in production passed and unemployment became rife in the land, the workers unready for the time being to safeguard their status in the workshop, were glad to fall back on the friendly benefits of the Union.

Part Six

Workers Dreadnought February 4th 1922

As we have seen, the main purpose of the Soviets is to minister to the needs of the people, in clothing, housing, education, recreation, transport and so on. The workers who are responsible for these services are linked together in their Soviets for the purposes of their work. The Soviet structure is efficient, because it is formed on the lines necessitated by the work; also because it gives every worker a responsible share in the common effort, and thereby encourages the co-operative impulse. Even under Capitalism the merits of the workshop council, which is the germ of the Soviet, have been discovered, not only by the workers, but by the capitalist himself. During the war, when the Shop Stewards’ Movement flourished, employers actually initiated the formation of shop councils and the election of workers’ stewards.

The employers did so, not merely to forestall the rebel elements, but rather because, in the great stress of war-time and with a tremendous influx of new workers, the shop council organisation would minimise the cost of management, reduce the number of paid supervisors required, and the difficulty of maintaining discipline, and increase the output by producing a spirit of willingness amongst the workers who were responsive to the patriotic appeals to produce more.

Mr. Charles Reynold, of the big engineering firm of that name, recently gave an address on workshop committees and the control of industry: he described how the works committee at his firm holds monthly meetings with the management to discuss wages and conditions of labour, and all questions of management. He declared that the confidential financial information presented to the directors is communicated to the works committee, and the result is the creation of a sense of responsibility, an understanding of the management point of view, and the acceptance of changes with comparatively little friction.

From the class-war standpoint this information does not gratify us, and presumably the scheme is part of some profit-sharing arrangement. It is nevertheless testimony to the value of the workshop council from the administrative efficiency standpoint, although under Capitalism the shop council has, of course, no real power, and only a leading-strings share of responsibility. Reynold’s is but one of many capitalist firms which are endeavouring, in the interests of efficiency, to secure the co-operation of their workers, though capitalist conditions prevent the co-operation from being genuine on either side. The growth of Whitleyism shows that the intelligent British capitalists are beginning to understand that men and women only give their best when they give of their free will, feeling that they are responsible entities. This truth is too often forgotten by those who once preached it, when they attain to official positions, whether in Russia, or in Britain.

The trend of the times supports the view that the Soviet Government made a serious blunder when it decided (and put into practice its decision) that “workers’ control of industry” is only a slogan useful for securing the overthrow of the capitalist, and must be discarded, once the workers have turned out the capitalist, in favour of management by an individual or committee appointed by some centralised authority.

A careful and candid survey of the Russian attempt to establish Communism will some day reveal, more clearly than at present, the proportional weight of the causes which have led to its failure. That it has failed for the present, and that only a powerful new impetus can stop the present retrogression in Russia we are compelled to admit.

Such a candid survey will provide evidence as to how far the Russian failure has been due to the capitalist resistance to Communism; how far to the unreadiness of the population; how far to the mistakes of the Communists, and especially to the mistakes of the Soviet Government.

The question of workers’ control of industry will bulk largely in this connection.

Viewed from the standpoint of efficiency as a fighting force, it is notorious that never were strikes so swiftly, solidly and successfully effected in this country as those of the war-time Shop Stewards’ movement. A rank and file chorus complaining of the inefficiency, inactivity and lack of class solidarity shown by the reactionary Trade Union leaders is constantly rising and falling. During the Dublin Lock-Out of 1912, during the railway strike of 1919 and the coal strike of 1921, it swelled with indignation, but only the workers organised in the workshop committees have taken large-scale action, except at the bidding of the Union officials. This is not unnatural: until both the individual workers and the workers in each individual firm feel that others will act with them, they shrink from taking action which, if not supported, will lead to their victimisation.

To recapitulate: the Soviets, or workers’ occupational councils, will form the administrative machinery for supplying the needs of the people in Communist society; they will also make the revolution by seizing control of all the industries and services of the community.

Though in Russia the revolution was accomplished by Soviets which sprang up spontaneously in some places and by unorganised mob risings, this was only possible, because the government of Russia had broken down, Capitalism was weak and of limited extent, and the entire country in a state of chaotic disorder.

Here in Britain the machinery of the Soviets must be prepared in advance. In all the industries and services, revolutionary workers, who are habitually at work there and know the ropes, must be prepared to seize and maintain control.

The Trade Unions do not provide this machinery: they are not competent, either to seize, control, or to administer industry. They are not structurally fitted to administer industry, because their organisations do not combine all the workers in any industry, and they are not efficiently co-ordinated. Their branches are constructed according to the district in which the worker resides, not according to where he works.

The Trade Unions are, moreover opposed to revolutionary action: their object is to secure palliations of the capitalist system, not to abolish it.

British experience has shown that the workers’ council system is efficient both as an engine for fighting the employer, and as a means of administrating the industry. Experience has also shown that under favourable conditions it can be built up with remarkable rapidity.

Experience in those European countries where the workers and their organisations have been tested in the revolutionary fight, has shown that the workers’ council is always the organ of the workers’ struggle. The Trade Unions, having tried unsuccessfully to avert the contest, in each case threw the weight of their influence on to the side of preserving the established order, and opposed every effort of the workers and their councils to overpower the employing class.

The evidence given by J.H. Thomas in his libel case against the Communist and its officials reveals the attitude which he will adopt in the event of any struggles for Proletarian power in this country. J.H. Thomas must not be regarded as an exception: the British Trade Union officials will all adopt the same attitude. Some will denounce the revolutionary workers on platforms, openly proclaiming their allegiance to the Crown, the Government and the employing class; others will merely hold aloof from the revolutionaries and in the Trade Union conferences will vote against the Unions joining the revolutionaries in the struggle. If they do not advise Trade Union members to give actual assistance to the Government in coercing the revolutionaries, they will at least advise their members to assist the cause of re-establishing the disturbed capitalist order by remaining quietly at work — the obedient servants of the capitalist employer, or of the capitalist Government.

This is the part which the Trade Unions and their officials have played in every one of the many recent proletarian uprisings in other countries: this is the part which J.H. Thomas and his colleagues will play here. J.H. Thomas differs only in degree from his colleagues who belong to the Reformist School. The British Trade Union movement and its officials belong to the same school as the Trade Unions and Trade Union officials of Europe and America.

The Trade Unions have too loose and uncoordinated a structure to make the revolution: they are ideologically opposed to it: therefore they will fight it.

The workers’ councils, co-ordinated industrially and nationally along the lines of production and distribution, are the organs which are structurally fitted to give the workers greatest power in the control of industry. If that power is to be used to overthrow the present system, the councils, which together will form a “One Big Union” of workers’ committees in all industries, should be built, from the first, with the object of taking control.

In Germany, where the methods necessary for waging the proletarian struggle are being forged during the struggle, the Revolutionary Workers’ Union, the A.A.U., is a fighting force which has had to be reckoned with. Its growth has been accelerated by the fact that the reactionary Trade Unions have expelled their revolutionary members.

Part Seven

Workers Dreadnought March 11th 1922

The great task of the Communist revolution is ideologic. Communism entails the creation of an altogether new attitude of mind towards all social relationships, and the development of a host of new habits and impulses. In discarding our purse and our financial anxieties and calculations, in removing the dependence of the propertiless upon the propertied, we shall change the entire configuration of life. Communism will create for us a great fraternity, a great trustfulness, arising from a great security, an abundant enthusiasm for productive labour, because such labour will benefit all, and all will share responsibility for it.

Communism necessitates the creation of a great initiative, which shall animate the entire people.

Under Capitalism the masses are as a flock of sheep driven by their owners. Under Communism, on the contrary, they will be free co-operators, producing, inventing, studying, not under the compulsion of law, or poverty, or the incentive of individual gain, but from deliberate choice and with an eager zest for achievement. Communism will provide the material and spiritual conditions which will make voluntary co-operative labour possible. Only by willing service and intelligent initiative can true Communism develop.

The establishment of the Communist life entails a complete breach, both in practice and in ideas, with Capitalism and its machinery. The Parliamentary system is the characteristic machinery of the capitalist State; it has grown up with great similarity in all the countries which have built up their own capitalism. In countries where an alien Capitalism dominates the native populace, the Parliamentary system of the dominant aliens extends the tentacles of its power to the subject country. It sends its officials overseas to rule the natives, entirely discarding its pretended dependence on the consent of the governed and its boasted representative character.

Parliament has been in large measure the co-operative society of the landlords and capitalists through which they have policed the proletariat at home and maintained their power abroad.

The great landlords originally used lawless force and violence for seizing their estates. In the latter half of the fifteenth century they, as feudal lords, drove the peasants, who had the same feudal right to the land as they, from their holdings. The feudal lords usurped the lands which were held and used in common. These things they did in defiance of law and custom, and without waiting to obtain the assent or assistance of Parliament.

Later on, however, the feudal lords found it convenient to give Parliamentary sanction to their robbery of the peasants, and to enact legislation to complete their usurpation of the land. Sitting in Parliament, the lords proceeded thereafter to abolish their own merely feudal tenure of the land, and by creating the modern right of private property in land, they made themselves its absolute owners.

Before they had legalised the expropriation of the peasants, the lords in Parliament enacted legislation to force the peasants they were driving from the land to become their wage-slaves. From the reign of Henry VII, legislation began for the coercion of the dispossessed. We all know that for begging, or wandering without means of subsistence, the landless people were whipped and branded, their ears were sliced, and on a third arrest they were executed. An Act of Edward VI condemned the idler to be the slave of whoever denounced him. He could be sold, bequeathed, or hired as a slave. Any-one might make slaves of his children. Vagabonds, as the dispossessed were called, might be made into parish slaves, condemned to labour for the inhabitants. Only in the reign of Anne, when an industrial proletariat sufficient for the needs of farmers and manufacturers had been developed, were such statutes repealed. So long ago as 1349, Parliament, in the Statute of Labourers, fixed maximum wages to prevent the proletariat from asserting itself to the inconvenience of the employing classes. Maximum wage legislation was maintained thereafter as long as any serious tendency to labour scarcity could give the workers a powerful lever in forcing up their wages.

Parliament has remained the employers’ co-operative society for dragooning the workers, in spite of all the extensions of the franchise which have taken place. When a serious labour scarcity arose in our time, during the great European war of 1914-19, Parliament enacted the Munitions Act, to prevent the workers taking advantage of the situation.

Neither in this present period of great unemployment, nor at any other time in history, has Parliament fixed maximum wages to protect the workers when the employers have been taking advantage of a Labour surplus to depress the wages of their employees below the subsistence level. The rates of wages fixed by the Agricultural Wages Boards during the war, were, in reality, a method of attaining by subtle means, the object which the Munitions Act achieved in other industries: namely a check on the bargaining power of Labour during a period of unexampled labour scarcity.

From the early laws against the industrial combination of the workers (maintained by the coercive power of the state as long as the ruling classes considered them necessary) down to our modern D.O.R.A. and E.P.A. and the strike-breaking machinery employed by the government in the last railway and mining strikes, Parliamentary Government has never failed to protect the possessions of the landlords and capitalists, and to employ whatever coercive measures have been necessary to provide the landlords and capitalists with disciplined workers.

Parliament and its accessories have been fashioned by the ruling classes for their service. The Courts of Law are strongholds of tradition and privilege, and appointment to the judicial Bench is made obscurely and arbitrarily by the Government.

In case of dispute, the Government-appointed irremovable judges interpret the Parliament-made law. The Government-hired prosecutor — who may even be a member of the Government, is leagued with the Government-appointed judge against the accused. All the force of the Government police assists the prosecution. In political trials, acquittals are remarkably rare. The judges, drawn from the privileged class, almost invariably decide against the popular cause.

The local governing bodies have no power to legislate or initiate: they merely administer the Acts of Parliament under the cramping supervision of Government Departments, which make rules interpreting the Acts of Parliament. Either with, or without Parliamentary sanction, Government departments determine what the local authorities shall spend, by limiting their power to levy Rates and to contract loans, and by prohibiting them from trading, except by special permission of the Government.

As to Parliament itself, its powers have been almost all annexed by the Cabinet.

The King, who is supposed to obey the Government, decides when Parliament shall assemble. The Government decides what subjects Parliament shall discuss, and on what it shall legislate. The Government drafts the legislation. If a measure be amended in a manner displeasing to the Government, the Government withdraws the measure, and either drops it altogether, or re-introduces it in another form. Parliament cannot proceed with any measure unless the Government desire it.

The Speaker and Chairman of Committee appointed by the Government, control the debate and interpret the rules of procedure. Parliamentary discipline is exceedingly strict. No one may speak until called upon by the Speaker, or Chairman of Committee, and the Speaker, or Chairman, may stop any speech, and even prevent the asking of a question, on the ground, either that it is out of order or “it is not in the public interest” that a reply be given. There is no appeal from the ruling of the Chair, which is enforced by the officials of the House, who at once eject any Member failing to obey the Chair.

The Government must have a majority in the House of Commons, or it cannot remain in power. That majority is composed of Party hacks with no chance of being returned to Parliament, except by the aid of the Party machinery and funds. They will not vote against the Government, because to do so would be to incur the ostracism of the Party leaders, and consequently of the Party; such ostracism would inevitably mean the loss of their Parliamentary seats at the next election. The Party man who disobeys his Party must either retire from politics, or become a candidate of the opposite Party (if it will have him, which may not be the case). Many years have passed since a Government was turned out by a hostile Parliamentary vote of its supporters. Even its political opponents are apt to shrink from defeating a Government on a critical issue, which would mean its resignation, for that in most cases entails a General Election. A General Election is of all things that which is most detested by the average Member of Parliament. It means for him an election campaign of tremendous exertion, in which he is compelled to speak at an extraordinary number of meetings, besides canvassing voters and calling on people of influence. Moreover, he may lose his seat, and thus suffer the defeat of many of his ambitions, as well as the loss of an income of four hundred pounds a year. The Member of Parliament prepared to take a line independent of his Party on any subject of importance is exceedingly rare. He is soon eliminated from Parliament.

The Prime Minister is chosen by the Sovereign from amongst the most prominent leaders of the Party which gains the majority of the Parliamentary seats in the General Election. Persons of powerful influence, of course, make representations to the Sovereign, and the Party caucus and its rival big-wigs all put in their word. What private understandings and guarantees are exacted the people do not know. The Sovereign appoints the rest of the Cabinet on the advice of the Prime Minister, who is influenced, of course, by the powerful personages who provide Party funds, who control Party newspapers, and who are powerful in banking and other circles able to sabotage the Government activities. The wire-pulling and intrigue that surround the making of Cabinets have only been slightly revealed in the memoirs of some of the privileged few who have been behind the scenes.

The policies of Government Departments are supposed to be controlled in general outline by the Cabinet as a whole, and in fuller detail by the Minister at the head of each Department who is appointed by the Prime Minister. The Departments are vast and deal with vast work; the Cabinet of party hacks and political adventurers knows little of the Departments. The responsible Minister, who usually remains in a particular Department no more than a year or two at most, and often no more than a few months, rarely learns much about his work; the permanent officials are the real masters of the administrative detail, and their policy is broadly that of the prevailing capitalist opinion current at the time. Lavish extravagance on Departmental expenditure, and ruthless parsimony towards the people, the great unofficial, unprivileged masses, who are treated as tiresome mendicants, is the outstanding characteristic of administration by Government Departments.

Members of Parliament know little of the doings of Government Departments. The debates, held twice or thrice a year, and the questions, to which cursory answers are given and on which no discussion is permitted, are the only opportunities by which Members may acquire information. Ministers in charge of Departments report once or twice a year what they choose of what their Departments have done.

Members of Parliament may move to reduce the amount Parliament is to vote for the Department in question, as a protest against something that displeases them, or as a matter of political form. Such motions are usually defeated or withdrawn. If, however such a motion be carried, the Government may resign, if the question involved be important. Generally, in such rare cases, the Government brings the vote up again another day, and, by rallying its supporters, it defeats the motion. Perhaps as a result of the incident the Minister whose Department has been criticised, moves on to another Department. His old place is taken by one whose policy differs but little from his own.

The House of Commons has no effective check on the doings of the Cabinet: it knows very little of what the Cabinet is actually about; the Press is given more information on questions of State than are the ordinary Members of Parliament.

The House of Lords, with its hereditary members, can check and thwart the doings of the Government more effectively than can the House of Commons, although its power is specifically limited. Its Members are not dependent on the machinery of the Party to secure their election. Their Parliamentary seats are theirs for life: no-one can dislodge them. The older Lords, at least, are probably no longer seeking the favour of Party leaders and Members of the Government to assist their personal fortunes. Though, perhaps, less open to personal corruption than the ambitious political hacks of the House of Commons, the Members of the House of Lords are, of course, even more surely lined up as one man against the emancipation of the proletariat and in defence of the present system.

In all this the electors are remote outsiders. They have no hold on the Members of the House of Commons who are supposed to represent them. They must decide for which candidate to vote on the general programme of the Party promoting the candidature, for, if returned, the Member will have no power except through his Party. No item of the Party programme is binding, no pledge given by the candidate or his Party can be relied on. The programme is enunciated during the election in vaguely-worded speeches and manifestos, every point in which will probably be discarded. Not until the next election will the voter have another chance to pass judgement on the actions of the candidate who won the seat in his local constituency, or on those of the Government in power. The Member, meanwhile, has probably been merely a cipher in Parliament; the Government has done nothing pleasing to the elector; but the opposing Party, in the vague compound of catch-cries called its programme, offers nothing that promises satisfaction. The constituency is vast: the electors have no personal knowledge of either candidate. The election is decided by such questions as which Party machine has most systematically traced the absent voters and made the best arrangements to bring them to the poll, which Party has the most motor cars lent to it for taking voters on free rides to the polling booth, which Party is served by the local paper having the largest circulation in the district.

Even were it possible to democratise the machinery of Parliament, its inherently anti-Communist character would still remain. The King might be replaced by a President, or all trace of the office abolished. The House of Lords might disappear, or be transformed into a Senate. The Prime Minister might be chosen by a majority vote of Parliament, or elected by referendum of the people. The Cabinet might be chosen by referendum, or become an Executive Committee elected by Parliament. The doings of Parliament might be checked by referendum.

Nevertheless, Parliament would still be a non-Communist institution. Under Communism we shall have no such machinery of legislation and coercion. The business of the Soviets will be to organise the production and supply of the common services; they can have no other lasting function.

Second Version

Part One

Workers Dreadnought January 27th 1923

Under Communism all shall satisfy their material needs without stint or measure, from the common storehouse, according to their desires. Everyone will be able to have what he or she desires in food, in clothing, books, music, education and travel facilities. The abundant production now possible, and which invention will constantly facilitate, will remove any need for rationing or limiting of consumption.

Every individual, relying on the great common production, will be secure from material want and anxiety.

There will be no class distinctions. These arise from differences in material possessions, education and social status. All such differences will be swept away.

There will be neither rich nor poor. Money will no longer exist, and none will desire to hoard commodities not in use, since a fresh supply may be obtained at will. There will be no selling, because there will be no buyers, since everyone will be able to obtain everything desired without payment.

The possession of private property, beyond that which is in actual personal use, will disappear.

There will be neither masters nor servants. Because all will be economically equal — no individual will be able to become the employer of another.

Children will be educated up to adult age, and adults will be able to make free, unstinted use of all educational facilities in their abundant leisure.

Stealing, forgery, burglary, and all economic crimes will disappear, with the vast and bjectionable apparatus which at present exists for preventing, detecting, and punishing crime.

Prostitution will become extinct; it is a commercial transaction, dependent upon the economic need of the prostitute and the customer’s power to pay.

Sexual union will no longer be based upon material conditions, but will be freely contracted on the basis of affection and mutual attraction. The marriage laws, having become obselete, will disappear. If people have ceased to be happy together they will part in freedom and without incurring the stigma of social disapproval.

The birth of children will cease to be prevented by reason of poverty.

Material anxiety being removed, and the race for wealth eliminated, other objects and ambitions will take the place of the individual struggle for existence and material wealth. Since all will benefit from the labour of all, praise will be given, not to the wealthy, as at present, but to those who prove skilful and zealous in the common service.

Emulation in work will take the place of emulation in wealth.

With the disappearance of the anxious struggle for existence, which saps the energy and cripples initiative, a new vigour, a new independence will develop. People will have more courage to desire freedom, greater determination to possess it. They will be more exacting as to their choice of a vocation. They will wish to work at what they enjoy, to order their lives as they desire. Work will be generally enjoyed as never before in the history of mankind.

The desire for freedom will be tempered by the sense of responsibility towards the commonweal, which will provide security for all.

Public opinion provides a stronger, more general compulsion than any penal code, and public opinion will strongly disapprove idleness and waste.

To secure the abundant production necessary to Communism, and to cope with the ever-growing complexity of modern life and requirements, large-scale production and co-operative effort is necessary. The people of today would not be willing to go back to producing everything by hand in domestic workshops; were they to do so, they could not maintain the population in comfort and with reasonable leisure. The people of today would be unwilling to abandon all the productive factories, the trains, the electric generating stations and so on. The retention of such things necessitates the working-together of large numbers of people. As soon as numbers of people are working together and supplying with their products numbers of other people, some sort of organisation of work and of distribution becomes inevitable. The work itself cannot be carried on without organisation. In each industry, either the workers concerned in the work must form and control the organisation, or they will be under the dominion of the organisers. The various industries are interlocked in interest and utility; therefore the industrial organisations must be interlocked.

When wages have disappeared, when all are upon a basis of economic equality, when to be manager, director, organiser, brings no material advantage, the desire to occupy such positions will be less widespread and less keen, and the danger of oppressive action by the management will be largely nullified. Nevertheless, management imposed on unwilling subordinates will not be tolerated; where the organiser has chosen the assistants, the assistants will be free to leave; where the assistants choose the organiser, they will be free to change him. Co-operation for the common good is necessary; but freedom, not domination, is the goal.

Since co-operative work and mutual reliance on mutual aid renders some kind of organisation necessary, the best possible form of organisation must be chosen: the test of its worth is its efficiency and the scope for freedom and initiative it allows to each of its units.

The Soviet structure of committees and delegates, built up from the base of the workshop and village assembly, presents the best form of organisation yet evolved; it arises naturally when the workers are thrown upon their own resources in the matter of government. The Soviet structure will undoubtedly be the organisational structure of Communism, at any rate, for some time to come. We live always, however, in a state of flux, and there is, and happily can be, no permanence about human institutions; there is always the possibility of something higher, as yet undiscovered.

The overthrow of Capitalism precedent to the establishment of Communism will be resisted by the possessors of wealth. Thus Capitalism will only be overthrown by revolution.

The revolution can only come when conditions are ripe for it; but opportunities may be missed: the rising may fail to take place at the opportune moment, or it may fail by mismanagement of the proletarian forces. A partial success may be achieved, and if Capitalism is not completely destroyed it may afterwards re-establish itself, as it speedily did in Hungary, as it is gradually doing in Russia.

Part Two

Workers Dreadnought February 3rd 1923

Those who are well to do under the present system are apt to oppose Communism, from conservatism and lack of imagination, and from anxiety lest the disorganisations of the transition period may destroy their present comfort. Some even fear that under Communism the emancipated workers may revenge themselves upon those who were of the employing class in Capitalist society, by degrading them to a subject position; but Communism has no place for subject classes. It has neither economic nor social distinction. It will emancipate the entire humanity.

The hard toil of the business man and his manifold anxieties are continually cited as arguments against this or that amelioration of the lot of the workers to-day. Let the exacting toil, the stupendous financial commitments, the ceaseless stupefying anxieties be admitted: Communism will remove all these. It will emancipate the business man from his business: it will free him for useful, care-free work and pleasure, from the shackles of useless toil. Nevertheless, the Capitalists of to-day have shown themselves as ready as were the feudal lords of the eighteenth century to resist the processes of evolution by force of arms and to make war to prevent the coming of the equalitarian social order.

In the contemporary cycle of civil wars, that of Finland was an early example of this fact.

The Russian Revolution of March 1917 removed the Czarist domination from Finland. Kerensky’s provisional Government opposed the independence of Finland, dissolved the Finnish Parliament, which had passed a law making itself the supreme power in Finland, and ordered new elections. On one occasion it posted Hussars to prevent the assembling of the dissolved Parliament, but next time only “Kerensky’s seals” were on the door, and these were easily broken. Kerensky’s Provisional Government lacked the strength to keep Finland within the Russian Empire. The All-Russian Workers’ and Soldiers’ Council, which sat simultaneously with Kerensky’s Provisional Government and was steadily becoming the real power in Russia, had declared for Finnish independence. Finland at that time was considered the most democratic of countries. Its Parliament had only a single Chamber, it had a wide franchise and proportional representation, votes fort women, and women members of Parliament. In the Parliamentary elections of 1916 the Social Democratic Party had secured a majority, and a coalition had been formed. Finland had no army under the Czar: she had been policed by Russian troops, and now Finland was without an army. Finnish Capitalists had desired to retain the Russian domination and the Russian Army, but that hope had failed them. During the summer of 1917 an eight-hour working day law was enacted, and universal suffrage was extended to the field of local Government. Russia was moving towards the Bolshevist revolution, and would not interfere. There were only a few large Capitalists in Finland in the timber and paper industries, and the taking over of about ten large firms would have nationalised by industry. Already the forests belonged to the State; the Russian domination had checked the growth of powerful Finnish interests. Apparently there was nothing to prevent the country from passing on to Socialism by ordered Parliamentary stages. Yet Parliament seemed helpless. War conditions, including the British blockade, were causing a food shortage, and, though the Parliament passed a law to stop speculation in food supplies, the law failed to operate. The Coalition Government, swayed to and fro by its Social-Democratic and Capitalist members, remained inactive.

The workers were hungry: in Helsingfors, the capital, they began to seize and to distribute stocks of butter — a general strike broke out spontaneously. It lasted two days, and then was brought to an end by the efforts of the Trade Union leaders.

In October 1917 new elections were held. The Social-Democrats anticipated a clear Parliamentary majority. Instead, they lost the bare majority they had, and became a minority party. When the election figures were announced, it was found that some representatives of the bourgeois parties had obtained a greater number of votes than there were electors on the roll. Later on, when the revolution broke out, masses of voting papers made out for the Social-Democratic candidates were found locked away in the offices of presidents of electoral bureaux.

The elections had been falsified. Nevertheless, the Social-Democrats had also lost votes, because, in spite of their majority in the Coalition Government, they had been unable to safeguard the people’s food and thus lost the enthusiasm of the masses.

The Coalition Government was now no more. The bourgeois groups in the Parliament voted a resolution entrusting the supreme power to a triumverate, but dared not immediately put it into practice. At the same time, they entered into negotiations with the Russian Provisional Government with a view to sharing the power and obtaining military aid to quell the people.

Then the Russian Provisional Government fell: the Russian Soviets rose to power. Lenin, who had taken refuge in Finland for a time, in returning to Russia charged the Finnish comrades to set up the Soviets; but they did not; they were opposed to revolution.

The Finnish Capitalists were now getting arms from Germany and preparing an army.

There were divided Councils amongst the Social-Democrats: some desired a general strike to secure democratic government; others did not. The various Social-Democratic factions all wished to avoid revolution. Eventually a general strike was declared. It secured a vote from the Democratic majority in the Parliament that the Parliament itself, and not merely a Government bloc, should be the supreme power in the country. This was but camouflage. The Capitalists continued preparing the army which was to attack the workers.

At the end of January 1918 the Capitalists gave the word of command for its butchers to begin the onslaught upon the workers’ organisations. The Social-Democrats replied:

"The bourgeoisie is vioating and destroying democracy. To arms!"

Then, tardily, the workers took arms and met force with force. They might have been victorious; but the Capitalists procured aid from Germany. Thus Capitalism maintained its rule and revenged itself by scourging Finland with a ruthless and prolonged White Terror, in which the lives of many thousand Socialists and workers were sacrificed.

In Hungary the Liberal Minister, Count Karolyi, who had come into power through the bourgeois revolution of November 1918, surrendered his office, and called the Workers’ and Soldiers’ Council, the Soviets of Hungary, to take the power. He did so because Hungary had been made economically bankrupt as a result of the European War and the dismemberment to which the Allied victors had subjected her. The Soviets were soon deposed by the armed forces of foreign Capitalism.

The bloody civil strife which has taken place in Germany since the war, and the invasion of Soviet Russia by the Allied Powers, are further exampls proving that the Capitalists will fight against the introduction of Communism. Italy provides a more recent, and in some respects an even more striking example.

In Italy the Socialists were making steady progress towards a Parliamentary majority. A large number of local governing bodies already possessed Socialist majorities. The masses, through their industrial and political organisations, as well as by some local mass uprisings, were manifesting a strong desire for Socialism. In 1920 the employers in the metal industries attempted to lock out the workers. The workers were organised in the workshop committee movement, which they had formed and organised independently of the Trade Unions, without surrendering their membership of the Unions. The workshop organisations now seized the factories, protected them with barbed wire, and placed machine-guns on the roofs. Workers in other industries and on the land began to take similar action. The army was sympathetic towards the movement, the Government was powerless to intervene.

The Socialist Party and the Trade Unionists, on the other hand, were either opposed to revolution, or unprepared for it. The Communists and the Anarchists did not find themselves strong enough to take the lead. The Socialist Party decided that the affair must be left to the Trade Unions. The Trade Unions persuaded the workers to surrender the factories and to become once more obedient to the Capitalist Government and to their employers.

The Capitalists showed no gratitude for the assistance they had received from Trade Union and Socialist leaders; their main concern was to take steps to prevent the workers rising again. The great industrial Capitalists of Italy, therefore, provided the funds for Mussolini to create his Fascist Army, which attacked the Trade Union, Co-operative, Socialist, Communist and Anarchist organisations of Italy, destroying their offices and plant, breaking up their meetings, wounding, or even killing, their members and officials. The Fascisti did not stop at the Labour organisations; they resorted to violence to influence the elections, and raided the local governing bodies which had a Socialist, or even a Liberal membership, assaulting, or even murdering, the members and officials who stood for progress. Finally they took arms against the Government and established a dictatorship in Italy. In their every step the masters of the Fascisti have been the greater Capitalists of Italy, whose intention has been to prevent the emancipation of the workers and the establishment of Communism the equalitarian social order which shall establish plenty and security for all.

Many British people cling to the belief that such manifestations of militant Capitalism are unlikely to occur here. Yet there is plenty of evidence to the contrary. It is notorious that certain organisations financed by the great Capitalists have constantly employed violent rowdies to combat reform agitations. The Suffragettes, the Socialists, and the opponents of war have had to run the gauntlet of such rowdyism. The Germans, Austrians, and others suffered from it during the war-time “intern-them-all” agitation. The Curragh incident, in which officers of the British Army announced they would take sides with Ulster, in preventing the application of the Irish Home Rule Act, showed that in Britain, as elsewhere, the class in power will not stop at mere rowdyism, but will proceed to civil war in defence of its priviliges. The terrible Ulster pogroms, which were organised and approved by the rich and powerful, though carried out by hired subordinates and poor and ignorant mobs, are another proof of the fact that the British Capitalist, like any other, would be quite prepared to cast aside legality, if the law should cease to protect his priviliged position.

Part Three

Workers Dreadnought 10th February 1923

Nationalist struggles, though largely economic and bound up with the might of Empire, which assures to Big Business its control of markets, are less vital to the upholders of Capitalism, than the direct contest for the overthrow of the system itself.

When the established order is in danger its beneficiaries arm to protect it; its supporters and opponents come to blows, civil war breaks out, and, for the time being, peace is no more.

Is that as it should be? It is as it is. The inevitable must be recognised and prepared for. A determined struggle for supremacy inevitably accompanies the overthrow of Capitalism.

Experience shows that the crisis arises suddenly: the old relationship has been growing more and more strained, and suddenly the bonds are snapped and the storm bursts. We do not say that a Parliamentary crisis, could not be the last straw that would precipitate the conflict, but in none of the contemporary revolutions has this been so. We have now the recent experience of Russia, Austria, Hungary, and Italy to guide our conclusions.

Great economic pressure, and a great spiritual rebellion against the actions and ideology of those who have been in power, are the factors which produce the proletarian revolution.

Parliament must be overthrown, as part of the Capitalist system, which must be altogether destroyed, if the proletarian revolution is to succeed. There must be a clean break with the old methods of supplying the needs of the community and with the old institutions of Government; the revolution must create its own instrument.

Parliament would have to be sacrificed with the overthrow of Capitalism, even were it conceivable that an Act of Parliament will formally declare the abolition of Capitalism. The Capitalists would resist by force the first attempt to put the Act into practice; and Parliament is not the body that could carry t.e proletarian revolution through to success in face of Capitalist revolt, which would be one of both armed and passive resistance.

The workers would be compelled to meet such a revolt with all the forces at their disposal; their most characteristic weapon is their industrial power, for the effective wielding of which they would have to be co-ordinated industrially. Every industry would be divided against itself; the owners and part of the management would take the Capitalist side; the mass of the workers the side of the working class. As in all the countries where the revolutionary crisis has appeared, the naval and military forces would be divided in the same way, though the old training and discipline might cause a larger proportion of the working-class rank and file to support the side of the master class in the Army than in industry. The final events leading up to the revolution would determine this question. If an unpopular war were the ultimate incentive to revolt, the soldiers might be the leaders of the revolution.

A little consideration of the situation arising on the outbreak of revolution, will show that Parliament and the local governing bodies, the county and borough councils, the boards of guardians, and so on, could not be the guiding and co-ordinating machinery of such a struggle; that the machinery of the struggle could take no other form than that of the Soviets.

Even in a war between rival Capitalist Governments Parliament becomes a cipher. In wartime the Cabinet more than ever ignores Parliament and assumes responsibility for conducting the war, announcing that it is “not in the public interest” for Parliament to be told much of what is going on. The Cabinet, remember, is composed of the heads of the various Departments of State, all very much controlled by the expert managers of those departments. On the military side the political and military heads of the War Office work in contact with a machine which is composed of all the officers from the highest to the lowest in the Army, and the men under their command. On the industrial side the political and technical heads of the departments work through a machine which is composed of the owners, managers and workers in all industries, factories, workshops. Great sections of industry are said to be placed under Government control, but are actually handed over to the management of the big industrial magnates. The Members of Parliament, as such, have nothing to do but make speeches. In reality they count for nothing.

The proletarian revolution is the struggle for the overthrow of the system which allows private management for private profit to monopolise the supply of the community’s needs. Still more, therefore, than in the case of war between Capitalist States the struggle must assume a practical utilitarian character, and be carried out by a practical, utilitarian machinery. Since the struggle for the overthrow of Capitalism is a struggle for the emancipation of the masses from the rule of the propertied class, the officers and managers on the proletarian side will naturally be leaders chosen by their fellows. Contact with the rank and file will also naturally be by delegates and mass meetings: The services of the rank and file in the struggle will not be based upon compulsion and wagery, but on consent and enthusiasm, and a share in deciding aims and policies.

During the great world war of 1914-19, even Capitalism found that shop stewards were of use in securing output and in maintaining discipline. Though Workers’ Committees were formed to protect the interests of the workers, yet in most cases, because the workers supported the war the committees increased production and greatly reduced the work of the employers’ managing staff. The employers disliked and feared the Workers’ Committee Movement. Yet, under the great stress of war orders, they encouraged the election of shop stewards by the women munition makers, who were largely, new-comers to industry, and were shepherded into the Unions, as a condition of their employment, by an arrangement between the engineering unions and the Government. Committees of employers and Trade Union representatives sitting outside the factories were also formed, in the effort to secure increased production, by enlisting the co-operation and goodwill of the men and women who were doing the actual work. These committees, though acting under Government auspices, had much less power to influence production than the workers’ own Councils in the factories themselves.

The Workers’ Committees in the factories and workshops form the basis of the Workers’ Council or Soviet system, which will manage the industries under Communism.

It is sometimes contended that, though the Soviets would spring up as a necessary instrument of the struggle, should the fall of Capitalism be accompanied by civil war; yet Parliamentary Government could be reverted to, and the Soviets disbanded after the crisis were passed. Therefore, those who hold this view, and also hope that Capitalism may be abolished without a serious struggle, refuse to interest themselves in the question of Soviets.

Nevertheless, even assuming that it should be possible to pass from Capitalism to Communism without strife, the disappearance of Parliament is inevitable, whilst the complex character of modern industry, the varied needs of the people to-day, and the confusion of the transition would render the Soviets a necessary means of co-ordination, at least for some time after the overthrow of Capitalism.

Consider the situation which would arise in London, or any large city, if Capitalism were suddenly brought to an end. Consider the vast population crowded into a relatively small area, the elaborate network of tubes, trams and buses, the main-line stations, the docks, the waterworks, the gasworks, the electric generating stations, the dairies, bakeries and restaurants, the food preserving, clothing, furnishing, and other factories, the slaughter-houses, butchers’, grocers’ and greengrocers’ and coal merchants, the markets and wholesale and retail dealers of all kinds. All these would be facing the end of the system that maintained them in their accustomed state; but millions of people would still be needing the daily supply of milk and bread to be delivered at their doors or lying ready for them at the nearest shop; they would still be needing their accustomed supply of food, fuel and means of transport. If there is a halt in the supply of the main necessities, some people at least will fail to present themselves to do their part in the daily task; the needs of masses of others may thus go unsupplied. Perhaps at the overthrow of Capitalism the workers are in the throes of a general strike, or from other causes, the wheels of industry are already dislocated, and everyone is already living a hungry, makeshift existence.

Whichever way it happens, everything has to be reorganised and built up on a new basis; a basis of production for use, not for profit. Undoubtedly a large proportion of those who used to manage the big concerns under Capitalism would refuse to fulfill such offices any more, even if asked. Undoubtedly many of them could not be trusted to occupy their old positions. Their hostility will be clearly apparant; they may already have taken to sabotage.

Meanwhile the people, the hungry millions of all sorts, will be clamouring to have their wants attended to; all with their peculiarities, their likes and dislikes, their reasonable and unreasonable prejudices; crowds of them will be ready to start looting, if they are kept waiting too long, or denied what they believe is their due.

Everyone, both as worker and consumer, has new hopes and desires, new claims upon life and the community, for has not the Workers’ Revolution come? Everyone demands more clothes, more pleasure, more leisure, and more congenial employment. Only the patient people are willing to wait. Everyone, too, is demanding a new, independent status and a share in deciding how things shall be done. Many people, moreover, are finding their accustomed work quite dislocated — even supposing they should be contented to continue doing it just as before.

Parliament is structurally unfitted to deal with such a situation; even a Parliament of Trade Union officials would find the difficulties insoluble. It would be compelled to appeal to the workers organised where they work. If the Soviets were not in being, it would appeal to the existing Trade Unions for assistance in establishing that essential machinery. Though Messrs. Ramsay MacDonald, J.H.Thomas and Will Thorne are Labour representatives, their position would be highly unenviable in face of such a crisis were no other machinery than that of Parliament available, should the structure of private enterprise be suddenly broken down. Imagine Mr. Thorne beseiged by the housewives of West Ham, whose supplies of food and fuel are cut off; and Mr. Ramsay MacDonald receiving wireless messages from Wales that his mining constituents are starving because the transport system is dislocated. The Labour Party members could attempt to deal with these things as representatives of their Unions, not as representatives of their constituents. Mr. Ramsay MacDonald could do nothing. He could only appeal to Mr. Thomas.

As to the borough councils, they would be only less incapable of dealing with the situation than Parliament itself. We remember the dislocations in the comparatively simple matter of war food rationing, and the groups of housewives here and there, who, through the muddling of the local Food Committee and the Ministry of Food, found themselves as “outlanders" prohibited from buying at the shops where they had hitherto dealt, and unable to procure commodities anywhere else. How should the Ministry of Food in Westminster be familiar with the shopping places of the women in Poplar? How should the Members of Parliament, or the Borough Councillors, suddenly become experts in the intricacies of a multitude of industries of which they hitherto knew nothing at all?

The only people who could deal with the great change and its new requirements are the people, all interlocked as they are, who are actually engaged in the making and transport of each product and the people who use it. The Soviets, built up according to the needs of each and all industries, would be the only solution of the new problem.

Had the factory been thrown into a turmoil of dislocation, then the workers in the factory would come together to produce order: each in the emergency would respond to the need that he should perform the task for which he had been equipped by training and for which workers were required, but some would be spared from accustomed tasks to fill the positions which had become vacant, to take stock and discover deficiencies, to acquaint absentees with the fact that work had begun again. These workers drafted to new work would be chosen for their fitness as far as could be discerned by themselves and their fellows. Each factory, each centre of work, would shoulder its own comparatively small difficulties, and thus by the co-operative effort of countless eager units the great tasks of the community, otherwise overwhelming, would be accomplished. Gradually the whole mechanism of industry would be transformed.

If the housewives had their Soviets when the great change came, they would not be found rushing frantically about the streets in search of supplies and threatening to break into the shops and storehouses because their children were hungry. If, however, they were disorganised as now, and hence terrified and distracted, it would be necessary for any who remained calm to call them together to enumerate their wants and transmit them not to a body of lawyers, journalists, and persons of all sorts at Westminster, but to the workers responsible for production, distribution and transport, in order that all might be supplied.

Part Four

Workers Dreadnought 24th February 1923

The Soviets.

The function of the Workers’ Councils, or Soviets, is to administer and co-ordinate production, transport and distribution.

The functional units of the Soviets are the groups of workers of all grades, including those who are doing organising or managerial work, in the engineering, textile, or boot factory, the dockyard, the mine, the farm, the warehouse, the distributive centre, the printery, the laundry, the restaurant, and the domestic workers, whether engaged in the hotel or communal house or the individual dwellings — so long as individual dwellings continue to exist.

The Soviet Structure.

The generally accepted theoretical structure of the Soviets is as follows :

Industrial Co-ordination.

The Workshop Council, comprising all the workers in the shop.
The Factory Council, comprising delegates from the Workshop Council.
The Sub-District Council, comprising ll the delegates from the District Councils.
The District Council, comprising delegates from the Sub-District Councils.

Inter-Industrial Organisation.

The National Council, comprising delegates from the District Councils.
Inter-Industrial Sub-District Councils, comprising delegates from the Sub-District Councils of each industry.
Inter-Industrial District Councils, comprising delegates from the Inter-Industrial District Councils.
National Inter-Industrial Council, comprising delegates from the Inter-Industrial District Councils, or in part, from the Industrial District Councils, in part from the National Industry Councils, and in part from delegates elected by sub-district mass meetings or Shop Councils.

There is thus a dual machinery :

For the organisation and co-ordination of each industry and service.

For the linking together of all industries and services.

The Soviet organisation must be tested and judged by its efficiency in supplying the needs of the people and in enabling the work itself to be healthy and enjoyable to those who take part in it.

The Workshop Councils, the councils of actual producers, must preserve complete autonomy and power of initiative, sense of responsibility and pride in the adequacy of their work. Their business and their object would be to serve the community by supplying what the people need and desire, as and when it is required.

We speak of the Workshop Councils, but under a normal state of Communism the Councils will meet only when new arrangements, plans, and ideas are to be considered and elaborated. At other times the members of the Works Council will apply themselves to their respective tasks. The managerial function will almost cease to exist in a community where all the workers in an enterprise are educated, willing co-operators in a common plan, but such managerial or directive work as may be needed will be done by those who have been chosen by their co-workers, not as a manager in the present sense, but as a leader in skill, a teacher and guide.

The Sub-District, District, and National Industrial Councils, and the various Inter-Industrial Councils, will also only meet when there are new arrangements to make, and for periodical consultation and report. Their function will be to to establish co-ordinating machinery, bureaux, telephone exchanges, as it were, between the sources of raw material and the workshops on the one hand, and the consumers of the product of the workshops on the other. The national bureaux will be responsible for import and distribution to the main supply stores of the larger areas, the sub-district bureaux will be the agencies to which the workshops will apply for their requirements.

It will not be the business of the national, district and sub-district Councils to command and direct the Workshops’ Councils. The latter will be master of their craft, and fully competent to exercise it. Dictation from the so-called “higher Councils” will neither be needed, nor would it be accepted. There will be no conflict of class interest; all will be working towards a common end. The co-ordinating Councils, however — for it is as co-ordinating links that the District, Sub-District and National Councils will function — will, however, collect and distribute information amongst the districts. New discoveries will be notified to their bureaux. They will preserve technical data for reference as it may be required by any of the workshops. They will estimate and procure the supplies of raw material and finished products required.

In considering the Soviet organisation under Communism, it must always be born in mind that the social classes will have disappeared, that the economic interests of the people will be identical, and that therefore the clash of interests which keeps the members of the present legislative and administrative bodies interminably wrangling and speechifying will be no more.

Under Communism the arguments which will arise in the Soviets will be as to the efficacy of this or that technical process, as to whether this or that proposed innovation will increase or improve production — an end desired by all.

The network of committees of delegates which makes up the framework of the Soviets and links the many productive groups, and also individual producers, should not be regarded as a rigid cast-iron machinery, but as a convenient means of transacting necessary business, a practical method of organisation which gives everyone the opportunity of a voice in social management.

The various members of a community are dependent upon each other. The cotton spinning mill is operated by a number of groups of workers in the spinning mill who are dependent for the execution of their work on the cotton growers, the railwaymen, the mariners, the dockers, who provide them with the raw material of their trade. They are dependent on machine-makers, miners, electricians and others for the machinery of spinning and the power to run it, and on the weaver, the bleacher, the dyer, the printer, the garment worker and upholsterer to complete the work they have begun. In order that the spinners may do their work they are also dependent on builders, decorators, furniture makers, food producers, garment makers, and innumerable others.

The Soviets will supply an efficiency that is impossible in an industry which, on the one hand, is maintained solely from the motive of making money, competition being the only check to the supply of inferior goods and the desire to make profits a constant incentive thereto; and which, on the other hand, is carried on by wage workers, who work only to win their wages, and whose poor up-bringing, low wages, and extended hours of labour do not permit them to possess either complete health or an adequate education. The will to work, in the workers, the sense of mutuality between the producer and those for whom the goods are produced, which the Capitalist vainly seeks today in Whitley Councils, profit sharing, bonuses, and so on, will be a matter of course under Communism and the Soviets.

Part Five

Workers Dreadnought 3rd March 1923.

Those who have been students at a school of art and craft, which has been fortunate enough to be entrusted with some piece of work destined for actual use, will realise something of what industry will be under Communism. They will remember with pleasure the zealous fervour with which the students threw themselves into the effort, the friendly emulation in efficiency, the general determination to achieve as fine a result as possible in the collective work. Everyone was enthused by the thought that this was no mere exercise, but an object needed and desired. The finest and most difficult parts of the work were done by the teachers and more accomplished students, the easier and more mechanical tasks were willingly performed by those who were least advanced, who, nevertheless, felt that their turn to execute something ambitious would come with the acquisition of further skill. In the tasks set merely for their training, the students had already learnt that their own stage of progress determined the sort of exercises their teachers set them, and now when engaged in this joint enterprise, for which all had set the highest posible standard of efficiency, they realised that for the sake of the whole work no one should be allotted a part that was beyond his skill. Every student, however, even the dullest, firmly believed in his own capacity for progress — otherwise he would have given up this sort of study and turned to something else. Moreover, every student was encouraged to design, to invent, to learn, to do things that were at present beyond the range of his capacities. Every one of them spent a considerable part of his time in doing something of his own choosing, something which was to be his own creation and the expression of his own ideas. These last are the merits of the school; its demerits are that its students rarely take part in or come in contact with constructive work that is to be put to use. The acquisition of technical efficiency is undoubtedly retarded thereby, and much of the zest necessary to the highest accomplishment is also lost.

In commercial industry the profit to the employer and the wage to the worker are placed, both by employer and by worker, before mastery of the craft and the production of useful and beautiful objects. The latter are apt to be regarded as only necessary in so far as they minister to the former. Mechanical efficiency is acquired in the practice of industry with a rapidity uncommon in the schools. Girls and boys who have worked a few months in the potteries learn to paint more accurately on slippery cups and saucers than students who have studied an equal time in the schools of art do on the paper nicely strained on their drawing-boards, using the finest sable brushes and water colours.

But the boys and girls in all but a few branches of industry soon reach the end of their progress. Their creative faculties are stultified, or altogether unawakened, because they are kept to the production of a few stereotyped objects.

Only in rare instances does commercial industry supply scope to the creative faculties. Therefore, in commercial industry there is almost no living creative art. The Wedgewood pottery is but a dead copying of a beautiful art that was once alive. The productions of the famous Copenhagen porcelain factory, though tainted by commercialism, have yet something of living and developing art in them, because the workers there are encouraged to make designs on their own account without being compelled to turn out designs continually in order to assure their living. Those workers display an interest and pleasure in their work which, in heightened measure, will obtain thoughout industry under Communism.

The craft guilds of the past were somewhat vitiated by production for profit, but they gave to their members the opportunities for enjoyable work and craft development which modern industry absolutely denies to the vast majority.

The Soviets under Communism will bring industry to all the best features of the school and unite them to practical work. When profit making is eliminated, the young students will be able to gain technical experience in the actual workshop without losing the opportunities for study and experiment which the school provides: the industry will have its own school departments.

To-day the opponents of Communism turn to Russia for evidence against Communism and to prove the failure of the Soviets. It cannot be stated too emphatically that the Russian Revolution has not succeeded in establishing Communism, and that the Soviet Constitution has only been very partially applied. Moreover, the Russian Soviets are not regularly constituted, since they include representatives of political parties, representatives of political groups of foreigners living in Russia, representatives of Trade Unions, Trades Councils, and Co-oprative Societies, as well as representatives of the workshops.

Pravda of April 18th, 1918, published the following regulations for the MoscowSoviet elections:—

"Regulations for Representation.
“Establishments employing 200 to 500 workers, one representative; those employing over 500, send one representative for every 500 men. Establishments employing less than 200 workers, combine for purpose of representation with other small establishments.
“Ward Soviets send two deputies, elected at a plenary session.
“Trade Unions with a membership not exceeding 2,000, send one deputy; not exceeding 5,000, two deputies; above 5,000, one for every 5,000 workers, but not more than ten deputies for any one union.
“The Moscow Trades’ Council sends five deputies.
“Political parties send 30 deputies to the Soviet: the seats are allotted to the parties in proportion to their membership, providing the parties include four representatives of industrial establishments and organised workers.
“Representatives of the following National non-Russian Socialist parties, one representative per party, are allotted seats:—
(a) “Bund” (Jewish).
(b) Polish Socialist Party (Left).
(c) Polish and Lithuanian Social Democratic Parties.
(d) Lettish Social Democratic Party.
(e) Jewish Social Democratic Party.”

The intention in giving representation to these various interests was, of course, to disarm their antagonism to the Soviet power and to secure their co-operation instead; but the essential administrative character of the Soviets was thereby sacrificed. Constituted thus they must inevitably discuss political antagonisms rather than the production and distribution of social utilities and amenities.

The Russian Soviets sprang into life in the crisis of the revolution of March 1917. They had not been created beforehand in preparation for it. They had arisen in the revolution of 1905, but had died away at its fall.

The March 1917 revolution only created Soviets in a few centres. Their number grew, and was added to by the November Bolshevik revolution; but five years later the Soviet Government admitted that the network of Soviets necessary to cover Russia was not complete. Kameneff, reporting on the question to the seventh all-Russian Congress of Soviets in 1920, stated that even where Soviets existed their general assemblies were often rare, and when held, frequently only listened to a few speeches and dispersed without transacting any real business. The Soviets were never able to cope with the productive needs.

The so-called “New Economic Policy” inaugurated by the Soviet Government in 1921; a policy that is really a reversion to Capitalism, of course, inevitably struck at the root of the Soviet idea. It has robbed the Soviets of their essential function — the administration of industry — and has transformed them into political, and to a large extent powerless, bodies.

The introduction of the New Economic Policy came as the climax of a retrogressive cycle. At the height of the revolutionary wave had come the call, partially responded to, for the management of industry by the Workshop Councils: then, with the ebbing of the tide and with the growth of reactionary tendencies in the bodies possessing coercive authority, the Workshop Councils were superseded. Management boards were established, consisting of representatives of the Factory Committees, the Trade Unions, and the Council of National Economy, a body created jointly by the Trade Unions and the Soviets. Then followed management by a single person, the Workshop Councils being deprived of all right to interfere in the management of the factories, save indirectly, through their minor share in the election of officials and boards of management. Thus by reducing the functions of the Workshop Councils, the return to private ownership and management of industrial enterprises was facilitated.

The Russian Soviets do not administer production, distribution and transport. They merely elect a proportion of those who have a share in administering certain industries.

The Workshop Council, the basis upon which the Soviet structure is theoretically supposed to be built; the local soviet, often in Russia a diversely mixed body, has but little autonomy. It is dominated by the Councils of delegates from wide areas, or the representatives who are endowed with an increasing measure of coercive authority the further they are removed from the workshop.

Part Six

Workers Dreadnought 10th March 1923
(Continued from last week.)

C. Zinoviev, at the Second Congress of the Third International in Moscow, introduced a Thesis, declaring that no attempt should be made to form Soviets prior to the outbreak of the revolutionary crisis. It was argued that, as such bodies would be powerless, or nearly so, their formation might bring the conception of the Soviets into proletarian contempt. The Thesis was adopted by the Congress, without discussion, and thereby became an axiom of the Third International.

This decision was of far-reaching significance: it meant that the Third International would no longer support the formation of Workshop Councils; and the building of an organisation upon the foundation of the Workshop Councils, taking in all workers in all industries with the revolutionary purpose of taking over and managing industry. At its inception the Third International had made much of the British Shop Stewards’ Movement, of wartime growth, believing it, on the strength of Government and Press denunciations, to be a genuinely revolutionary force. Now that the Third International had set its face against pre-revolutionary Soviets, it sought to damp down Workshop Council Movements in all countries. This was a logical part of the changed policy of the Third International, which has veered round from the attempt to create new industrial revolutionary organisations, to acceptance of the existing craft unions.

The question as to whether the mere borrowed term, Soviet, shall be reserved for use in the actual crisis of revolution is of small importance, though if not used previously it would probably miss being adopted as the slogan of the revolution.

The question of postponing the creation of the actual organisation till the hour of revolutionary crisis is, on the other hand, a fundamental one.

The idea expressed and insisted upon in the thesis of Zinoviev was that the Soviet must be a great mass movement, coming together in the electrical excitement of the crisis; the correctness of its structure; its actual Sovietness (to coin an adjective) being considered of secondary importance. A progressive growth, gradually branching out till the hour of crisis; a strong and well-tried organisation is not contemplated by the thesis. The need for a carefully conceived structure is ignored. Not organisation, but only propaganda for the Soviets is recommended.

Russia’s dual Revolution was an affair of spontaneous outbursts, with no adequate organisation behind it. The Trade Unions, always a feeble growth, were crushed by the Czardom at the outbreak of the Great War of 1914. The Revolutionary political parties could call for a revolution; but they could not carry it through; that was accomplished by the action of the revolutionary elements in the Army and Navy, in the workshops, on the railways, and on the land. That these revolutionaries at the point of production were mainly unorganised was a disability, not an advantage. In Russia the government, first of the Czar, then of Kerensky, crumbled readily under the popular assault. The disability arising from the disorganised state of the workers was not felt in its full weightiness until after the Soviet Government had been established. Then it was realised that, though the Soviets were supposed to have taken power, the Soviet structure had yet to be created and made to function. The structure is still incomplete: it has functioned hardly at all. Administration has largely been by Government departments, working often without the active, ready co-operation, sometimes even with the hostility of groups of workers who ought to have been taking a responsible share in administration. To this cause must largely be attributed Soviet Russia’s defeat on the economic front.

What is Communism?

Paul Mattick

Published: in International Council Correspondence Vol. 1, no.1, October 1934, pp 1-9.
Source: Antonie Pannekoek Archives
Transcribed: by Graham Dyer

In communism, the process of production is no longer a process of capital expansion, but only a labor process in which society draws from nature the means of consumption which it needs. No longer are values produced, but only articles for use. As an economic criterion, the necessity of which is undeniable, since both production and the productive apparatus must be made to conform to the social need, the only thing which can still serve is the labor time employed in the production of goods. It is no longer the 'value' but the calculation in terms of use articles and the immediate labor time required for their production which is the necessary form of expression of a regulated communist economy.

And so, from the standpoint of Marxism, the Russian experiments in planned economy are not to be rated as socialistic. The Russian practice is not directed according to communist principles, but follows the laws of capitalist accumulation. We have here, even though in modified form, a surplus-value production under the ideological camouflage of "socialist construction". The wage relation is identical with that of capitalist production, forming also in Russia the basis for the existence of a growing bureaucracy with mounting privileges; a bureaucracy which, by the side of the private capitalist elements which are still present, is strictly to be apprised as a new class appropriating to itself surplus labor and surplus value. From the Russian experience no positive conclusions can be drawn which have a relation to communist production and distribution. It still offers only examples of the way in which communism cannot be developed.

The decisive problems of a communist economy do not come up until after the market, wage labor, money, etc., have been completely dispensed with. The very fact of the existence of the wage relation signifies that the means of production are not controlled by the producers, but stand over against them in the form of capital; and this circumstance further compels a reproduction process in the form of capital accumulation. This latter is, by the Marxist theory, beside and because of its validity as a law of crises and collapse, at the same time the accumulation of misery, and hence also the Russian workers are actually growing poorer at the same rate as capital accumulates. The productivity of the Russian workers increases faster than their wages; of the increasing social product they receive a relatively ever smaller share. To Marx this relative pauperization of the working population in the course of accumulation is only a phase of the absolute pauperization; it is only another expression for the increasing exploitation of the workers, and to denominate this as the "growth of socialism" is after all hardly possible.

The gist of the Bolshevist "theory of socialization" may be sketched as follows: With the revolutionary overthrow, i.e. the expropriation of capital, the power over the means of production and hence the control over production and the distribution of the products passes into the hands of the state apparatus. This latter then organizes the various branches of production in accordance with a plan and puts them, as a state monopoly, at the service of society. With the aid of statistics, the central authority computes and determines the magnitude and kind of production, as also the apportionment of the products and producers.

To be sure, the means of production have here passed from the hands of the private entrepreneurs into those of the State; as regards the producers, however, nothing has changed. No more than under capitalism do they themselves exercise the command over the products of their labor, for they still lack the control over the means of production. Just as before, their only means of livelihood is the sale of their labor power. The only difference is that they are no longer required to deal with the individual capitalist, but with the total capitalist, the State, as the purchaser of labor power. In the mind of the Bolshevist theoretician, as in that of the Social Democrat, monopoly capitalism has already made production "ripe for socializing"; the only thing left to do is to give a "socialistic" form to distribution. The decisive aspect of the matter here is the organizational-technical side of the production process; the side developed by monopoly capitalism or to be copied from it, instead of the truly basic factor of communist economy: the economic relation between product and producer.

The conception that the mere centralization of the means of production in the hands of the State is to be regarded as socialization precluded the practical employment of an accounting unit in keeping with a communist mode of economy. Centralized power over social production and distribution admitted of no form of accounting by which an uninterrupted economic process was possible as a substitute for money economy. The Russian attempts at a natural economy during the period of "war communism" completely miscarried. Money accounting had to be re-established.

Under capitalism, the means of production (mp) and labor (l), appear as constant (c) and variable (v) capital. The values c + v can be applied capitalistically only so long as they produce surplus value (s). The capitalistic formula of production is c + v + s. It is only because mp + l appear as c + v, that it is possible to attain s. If c + v drops out, so also does s, and vice versa. What remains is the concrete, material form of c + v, that is mp + l, the means of production and labor. The communist formula of production is – mp + l.

The development of mp and l proceeds in any society; it is nothing other than the "material interaction between man and nature". The formula c + v + s, however, is historically bound up with capitalist society. If under capitalism it was only the interest in s which determined the development of c + v, since here the need for the expansion of capital prevails over the social needs, under communism on the other hand, it is only the social needs which determine the development of mp + l. The formula c + v + s presupposes exchange between the owners of c + v and the owners of l. If c + v is lacking, so also is this exchange. It is not until mp has ceased to confront the workers in the form of capital, when it remains merely as the tool of society and is nothing else, that it is possible to speak of a communist economy:

"Its apportionment in accordance with a definite social plan maintains the proper proportion between the different kinds of work to be done and the various wants of the community. On the other hand, it also serves as a measure of the portion of the common labor borne by each individual, and of his share in the part of the total product destined for individual consumption. The social relations of the individual producers, with regard both to their labour and to its products, are in this case perfectly simple and intelligible, and that with regard not only to production but also to distribution". (Capital, Vol. I, Page 90-91).

Taking the social average working hour as the computing unit of communist society, it must be capable of embracing all categories of production and distribution. The working hour unit must be applicable, that is, to the quantitative consumption, the quantitative reproduction and the quantitative expansion of the productive forces. Each enterprise must determine the number of working hours it consumes, so that they can be replaced in the same magnitude. Computation by working hours is not difficult, as all the presuppositions for it have already been formed by capitalist cost accounting. In particular, the capitalist process of rationalisation has developed computing methods which are capable of getting at the cost price both as a whole and also down into the last detail. And while these computing methods are today related to the common denominator of money, their conversion into the working hour is attended by no difficulties.

The production formula of any enterprise, as also that of society as a whole, is very simple. We have already stated it as follows: mp + l = product. With the aid of the means of production, human labor produces a quantity of goods. We distinguish between two different kinds of means of production: fixed and circulating. So we broaden our formula in accordance with this distinction.

mp + | r + | l
machines, etc. | raw material, etc. | labor power
10,000 working hours | 70,000 working hours | 70,000 working hours

Assuming that these figures are applicable to a shoe factory: mp + r + l = product  -- 10,000 + 70,000 + 70,000 = 50,000 pairs of shoes in 150,000 working hours, or an average of three working hours is consumed in each pair. In this production formula we have at the same time the reproduction formula for simple reproduction. We know how many labor hours were withdrawn from this factory for the production of 50,000 pairs of shoes. The same number of labor hours must accordingly be restored to it. And what holds for the single enterprise holds also for the whole of society, which of course is only the sum total of all enterprises. The total social product is the product of mp + r + l of all enterprises. To distinguish the production formula of the single enterprises from that of society as a whole, we select capital letters for the latter. The formula for the social product (SP) then reads: MP + R + L = SP. Assuming MP (the sum of all the fixed means of production) to amount to 100 million labor hours, the corresponding sum R to amount to 600 million, and the labor time consumed to be equal to 600 million, we have the following for the total product: MP + R + L = SP – 100 + 600 + 600 = 1,300. Of the total production of 1,300 million labor hours, in conditions of simple reproduction, (i.e.-when no expansion of production occurs), we assume that 600 million labor hours are turned over to the consumers in the form of means of consumption.

The application of the social average labor hour as the computing unit presupposes the existence of workers' councils (soviets). Each enterprise comes forward as an independent unit and is at the same time, as we shall show later, connected with all the other enterprises. As a result of the division of labor, each factory has certain end products. With the aid of the production formula mp + r + l each enterprise can compute the labor time contained in its end products. In the shoe factory taken as an example, the end product (one pair of shoes) - contains an average of three working hours. This average can be found for each product in each enterprise. The end product of an enterprise, insofar as it is not destined for individual consumption, goes to another enterprise either in the form of mp or r, and this one in turn computes its end products in labor hours. The same thing holds for all places of production, without regard to the magnitude or kind of their products.

When the individual enterprises have determined the average labor time contained in their products, it still remains to find the social average. All enterprises of the same nature, i.e. turning out the same kind of products, must get in touch with each other. From the individual enterprises of a determinate industry, in a given territory, will be derived the total average of all the given averages (average of averages) for these enterprises. To take a rough example: if 100 shoe factories strike an average of three hours, 100 others an average of two, then the general average for a pair of shoes is 2-1/2 hours. The varying averages result from the varying productivity of the individual enterprises. Though this is a condition inherited from capitalism, and the differences in productivity will slowly disappear, the deficit of one enterprise must in the meanwhile be made up through the surplus of the other. From the standpoint of society, however, there is only the social average productivity. The determination of the social labor time calls for the cartelisation of the individual enterprises. The opposition between the factory-average and the social-average labor time comes to an end in the production cartel.

The social average labor time decreases with the development of the productivity of labor. If the product thus "cheapened" is one for individual consumption, it goes into consumption with this reduced average. If it is an end product used by other enterprises as means of production, then the consumption of mp + r for these enterprises falls, the production "costs" decline and hence the average labor time for the products of these enterprises is reduced. The matter of compensating for the variations caused in this way is a purely technical problem which presents no special difficulties.

 If the working hour serves as a measure of production, it must likewise be applicable to distribution. A very clear statement of this unit is given by Marx:  (Critique of the Gotha Programme, page 29) -

"What the producer has given to society is his individual amount of labor. For example: the social working-day consists of the sum of the individuals' hours of work. The individual working-time of the individual producer is that part of the social working-day contributed by him, his part thereof. He receives from society a voucher that he has contributed such and such quantity of work (after deductions from his work for the common fund) and draws through this voucher on the social storehouse as much of the means of consumption as the same quantity of work costs. The same amount of work which he has given to society in one form, he receives back in another".

The specialization of labor makes necessary the use of some sort of certificates for drawing from the fund of social articles of consumption. Each producer receives a number of these certificates corresponding to the number of hours of labor he has performed. These certificates may be called labor money, though they are not money at all in the capitalistic sense. "The producers", writes Marx, "may eventually receive paper checks, by means of which they withdraw from the social supply of means of consumption a share corresponding to their labor-time. These checks are not money. They do not circulate." (Capital, Vol. 2 - page 412).

The workers cannot, however, receive the full output of their labor. The labor time is not the direct measure for the part of the social product destined for individual consumption. As Marx goes on to explain:

"Let us take the words "proceeds of labour" in the sense of the product of labour, thus the co-operative proceeds of labour is the total social product.

But from this must be deducted: firstly, reimbursement for the replacement of the means of production used up; secondly, an additional portion for the extension of production; thirdly, reserve or insurance funds to provide against misadventures, disturbances through natural events, and so on."

There is left the other portion of the total product which is meant to serve definitely as means of consumption. But before this can go for individual consumption there has to be taken from it yet: firstly, the general costs of administration not appertaining to production; secondly, what is destined for the satisfaction of communal needs, such as schools, health, services, etc.; thirdly, funds for those unable to work, etc., in short, what comes under the heading of so-called official poor relief today. (Critique of the Gotha Programme – page 27.)

Those institutions which produce no tangible goods (cultural and social establishments) and yet participate in the social consumption may be reckoned as enterprises. Their services go over into society without delay; production and distribution here are one. In the case of these enterprises, the final goal of communism, "the taking according to need", is already actualized; their distribution is governed by no economic measure. We call these public enterprises, or enterprises for general social labor (GSL). Communist accounting is complicated by the existence of these GSL enterprises just as it was by the varying productivity of the single enterprises. Everything which the public enterprises consume must be drawn from the stores of the productive enterprises.

Going back to our production formula for society as a whole: (MP + R) + L = mass of products, or (100 + 600) + 600 million working hours. MP and R have to be reproduced; there remain, of the total mass of products, 600 million working hours. The GSL enterprises take from these 600 million their means of production and raw materials. It is accordingly necessary to know the total consumption of these public enterprises. If we designate the means of production for the public enterprises as MPs, the raw materials as Rs and the labor power as Ls, we get the following total budget for GSL: (MPs + Rs) + Ls =  services of the GSL, or (for example - 8 million + 50 million + 50 million = 108 million labor hours.) From the 600 million labor hours to be consumed, 58 million must be deducted for MPs and Rs of the GSL enterprises. There remain 542 million labor hours for the individual consumption of all workers. In the productive enterprises the workers were employed 600 million hours, and in the GSL enterprises 50 million. Of the total output of labor power there is available for individual consumption, accordingly, only 542/ 650 or 83%. We call this proportion the "factor of individual consumption" (FIC). The formula for FIC is: L - (MPs + Rs) over L + Ls. Or employing the figures assumed in our example: (600 million – 58 million) over (600 million + 50 million) = 542 million/650 million = 0.83.

If a worker has worked 40 hours, he receives a labor-money certificate in the amount of 0.83 x 40 = 33.2 which he exchanges for such articles as he pleases. This computation is possible because all enterprises keep an account of their consumption in mp, r and l. The general social bookkeeping, which records all products, has at its disposal all data necessary for determining the payment factor, namely, L, MPs, Rs and Ls, which result from simple summation in the current account.

 In the GSL enterprises, the "taking according to needs" was, as we have seen, already realized. With the growth of communism, this type of enterprise receives an ever increasing extension, means of consumption, dwelling, passenger transport, etc. The more society grows in this direction and the more enterprises are transformed into the GSL type, the less will individual labor be the measure for individual consumption. This tendency serves to illustrate the general development of communist society.

With the development of communism, the accounting for FIC changes. Various enterprises, such as an electric plant, work in part for individual consumption and in part for purely productive purposes. To refer to our example: if the consumers are now supplied with electricity free of charge, the electric plant belongs to a new type of enterprise. For accounting purposes, these mixed enterprises must be included either under those of the productive or of the GSL type. This electric plant must receive back from the FIC the deliveries of current, expressed in working hours, going into the individual consumption. The addition of these parts of all mixed enterprises gives the deficit to be made up by the FIC. If we call this part the general deficit (D), we have a new distribution formula: FIC = L - (MPs + Rs) - D over L + Ls.

A number of variations are possible here, depending on whether we assign the mixed enterprises to the public or to the productive ones or divide them between the two. But these variations do not affect the clarity of the general view.

When the relation between the producer and product is established, the question of the horizontal and vertical grouping of the enterprises becomes a technically soluble one, which from the economic point of view presents no difficulties. Distribution also, like production itself, is a social question. The "expenses" of distribution are included in the general budgets for GSL: that is to say, the organs of distribution are enterprises of the GSL type, which likewise conduct their accounting according to the formula mp + r + l.

The conditions of simple reproduction, with which we have been working so far, are after all only a methodological assumption employed for the sake of simplicity and have no basis in actual fact. Human progress demands the expansion of the productive forces; the process of reproduction must be accomplished on a broader scale. Under capitalism, this process which goes on in terms of accumulation of capital, is the individual function of the capitalistic enterprises. In communism, however, it is a social function. Of the social product a part is here employed for the further expansion of the productive apparatus. If this expanded reproduction is to be a conscious action, however, it is necessary to know the social labor time required for simple reproduction. The formula for simple reproduction is: MP + R + L. If the material apparatus of production is to be expanded by 10%, a mass of products of this amount must be withdrawn from individual consumption. When this "accumulation" has been accomplished, production proceeds according to the formula: 1.1 (MP + R) + L. We have already shown that the social product is completely taken up by society when the individual consumption proceeds according to the formula FIC = L – (MPs + Rs) over (L + Ls).

 This individual consumption must now be further diminished by 0.1 (MP + R). In the case of a 10% expansion of production, we then get the formula: FIC = L – 0.1(MP + R) – (MPs + Rs) all over (L + Ls). This general formula does not take the place of the concrete solution of the problem in actual reality, but within the scope of this work we must be content with it and merely refer further to Marx: " If we assumed that society were not capitalistic, but communistic, then the money-capital would be entirely eliminated, and with it the disguise which it carries into the transactions. The question is then simply reduced to the problem that society must calculate beforehand how much labor, means of production, and means of subsistence it can utilize without injury for such lines of activity as, for instance, the building of railroads, which do not furnish any means of production or subsistence, or any useful thing, for a long time, a year or more, while they require labor, and means of production and subsistence out of the annual social production." (Capital, Vol. 2 - Page 361).

Let us consider this example. If the construction of a railway proves necessary, the work involved belongs to the GSL part of the social production. If it consumes, for example, three years of labor in a certain number of working hours, this sum is deducted yearly by charging it to the GSL account, from the factor of individual consumption (FIC).

In the relations between the individual enterprises, labor-time money is superfluous. When an enterprise delivers its end products, it has linked mp + r + l working hours to the great chain of partial social labors. This must be restored to the various enterprises in the same magnitude in the form of other end products. The labor money is valid only for individual consumption. As more and more enterprises are brought into GSL production, distribution by means of labor money grows less and less, and rushes on to its own abolition. Fixing the factor of individual consumption is the task of social bookkeeping. On the credit side of the social bookkeeping stands L; on the debit side MPs, Rs, and Ls. "Bookkeeping as a control and abstract summary of the economic process," says Marx, "becomes the more necessary to the extent that the process functions on a social scale and loses its purely individual character. It is, therefore, more necessary in capitalist production than in scattered handicraft and agricultural production, and still more necessary in co-operative than in capitalist production." This bookkeeping under communism is merely bookkeeping and nothing else. It is the central point of the economic process, but has no power over the producers or the individual enterprises. The social bookkeeping is itself only an enterprise of the GSL type. Its functions are: the registration of the stream of products, the fixing of the FIC, the outlay of labor-time money, the control over production and distribution. The control of the labor process is a purely technical one, which is handled by each enterprise for itself. The control exercised by the social bookkeeping extends only to accounting for all receipts and deliveries of the individual enterprises and watching over their productivity.

The control of production in the society of free and equal producers does not come about through persons and authorities, but is conducted through the public registration of the objective course of the productive process; that is, production is controlled through reproduction.

The different industrial organizations turn their production budgets over to the enterprise which conducts the social bookkeeping. From all the production budgets results the social inventory. Products in one form flow to the enterprises; new ones in another form are given out by them. Each conveyance of goods is recorded in the general social bookkeeping by an endorsement, so that the debit and credit of any particular enterprise at any time can be seen at a glance. Everything which an enterprise consumes in the way of means of production, raw material or labor money, appear on the debit side of the enterprise; what it has turned over to society in the form of products appears as a credit. These two items must cover each other continuously, revealing in this way whether and to what extent the productive process is flowing smoothly. Shortage and excess on the part of the enterprise becomes visible and can be corrected. If an enterprise is unable to maintain its productivity, if that productivity declines, then the other enterprises, even though they work beyond the s.a. production time, cannot cover the shortage of the first one. The comparatively unproductive enterprise is unable to reproduce itself, the malfunction becomes visible and can be remedied by society. The control of the GSL enterprises runs parallel in part with that of the productive ones. It results from the material production, through the registration of the articles turned over to them and the receipt of labor money. The product of the GSL enterprises, however, goes into society "gratuitously", so that for these enterprises the credit factor is lacking in their bookkeeping. The control of their productivity will probably only be possible with the aid of comparative investigations.

While under capitalism the category s.a. labor time is dependent on "value", in communism it is only a matter of the labor embodied in goods turned out. And while social productivity under capitalism has to be regulated by the market, which involves a gigantic waste of the social forces of production, in communism the lowering of the s.a. production time is a conscious, socially-regulated act. It leads to a general drop in the time of production. If, for example, an enterprise has reckoned its means of production at 100,000 labor hours, and if we assume that these instruments have a ten-year span of life, then 10,000 working hours are to be added on yearly to the products of this enterprise. If the s.a. reproduction time of the means of production employed in this enterprise declines, then in its process of reproduction it can fashion better or more machines and thus increase its productivity, which in practice means expanding the productive apparatus without the expenditure of extra labor. The production time for this enterprise has changed. Since the s.a. reproduction time is observed, the only change is in the productivity factor of this enterprise. The s.a. production time of the cartel with which the enterprise is connected always remains the same as the reproduction time, since the means of production, too, flow in a continuous stream through all the enterprises. The lowest social reproduction times blend again and again in the process of production with the s.a. reproduction time.

By way of summary, it may be said:

"The basis of the s.a. reproduction time is the s.a. working hour. This category is already valid even in capitalism. Even now the individual differences find no expression in the commodity, for the product is converted on the market into money; that is, transformed into the general commodity, by which all individual differences are abolished. In communism, it is the s.a. reproduction time which embraces within itself all individual differences of slow and experienced workers, of capable and less capable, of manual and intellectual labor. The s.a. reproduction time is accordingly something which as such, as something special, does not exist. Like the laws of nature, which merely bring out what is general in the particular phenomena, without existing as actual laws, the s.a. working hour, which in the concrete sense has no existence, embodies what is general from among the enormous diversity in the material interaction of society".

Last updated on: 6.13.2018

Workers’ Councils and Communist Organization of Economy

Paul Mattick

Published: in International Council Correspondence Vol. 1, no.7, April 1935, pp 7-18.
Source: Antonie Pannekoek Archives
Transcribed: by Graham Dyer

We have received the following theses from Prague, as reported by Neue Front No. 20. They are issued under the title Revolutionary Marxism and Socialist Revolution by a group of revolutionary marxists “who organizationally belong to the German Social Democracy”. Their conception of the way that leads to socialism is here expressed. Our criticism follows.

The experience of all revolutions during and since the War has shown that a reformist and opportunistic policy leads to the defeat of the working class. The preliminary work for the socialist revolution, the winning of the victory in the socialist revolution and the consolidation of that victory presuppose therefore a radical break with all reformist politics.

This radical break demands a fundamental change in the means and methods of the political struggle and in its concrete aims. As a sign of the inner transformation and as an acceptance of revolutionary marxism, the party must lay aside its old name of Socialist Party of Germany (S.P.D.) and become merged in a revolutionary marxist party.

The goal is the attainment of socialism on the basis of a socialist German soviet republic, under the sway of the dictatorship of the proletariat. The revolutionary dictatorship is the necessary transitional period to the socialist society. The destruction of the capitalist system through dictatorship of the proletariat is the presupposition for the realization of the personal and moral freedom of all people now under the yoke of Fascism.

For conducting this struggle, the proletariat has need of a revolutionary party conscious of the goal. This party can and may embrace only the revolutionary vanguard of the proletariat. Only those persons can become members, therefore, who have stood the test of the revolutionary struggle, acknowledge the dictatorship of the proletariat and subordinate themselves unconditionally to the decisions of the party. The party makes use of all legal and illegal forms of struggle. It is the party’s duty to prepare and organize mass movements, mass strikes and the armed insurrection.

In case of a war, the party rejects any open or covert form of “defense of the fatherland”. It rather calls the proletariat to its aid in converting the imperialist war into a civil war, in order to bring about the dictatorship of the proletariat. Among the means to that end are mass strikes and armed insurrection.

After the conquest of political power, the old state apparatus will be completely dismantled. All legal power and authority passes over to workers’ councils, small-peasants’ and farm-workers’ councils. The councils exercise the dictatorship of the proletariat. The leadership in the dictatorship lies with the revolutionary-marxist party.

The consolidation of power is taken over, until the forming of a socialist army, by the armed proletariat.

The professional bureaucracy will be abolished. All persons serving in public capacities are appointed through the councils and can be recalled at any time.

For the purpose of lending support to the revolutionary dictatorship, workers and functionaries will organize themselves in industrial unions.

Printing establishments and newspapers will be sequestrated. Printed matter, radio and any other kind of news service shall be under inspection and control of the councils.

The whole of capitalist property will be expropriated without compensation. General liability to labor will be introduced, and the control of production through the councils.

All banks will be combined into a central bank. In the same manner all insurance establishments will be brought together.

Farm mortgages will forthwith be declared invalid. Rent will be abolished. Land ownership, insofar as it exceeds in any case the amount required for maintaining a family (Familienackernahrung), will be expropriated without compensation. According to the needs of the small peasants and farm workers, there will be a new distribution of the soil. The peasant enterprises will be brought together in associations (Genossenschaften). Where the necessary conditions are present, model large-scale agricultural enterprises will be established.

For assuring the means of subsistence to the population, the union of all consumers will be made compulsory. The entire retail trade will be given its proper place in the distributing system of the soviet republic.

Foreign trade will be centralized through the establishment of a foreign trade monopoly.

The construction of the socialist economy will be effected under the guidance of an economic planning bureau (Planwirtschaftsstelle).

All cultural, educational and recreational institutions will be administered for the common benefit. Art and science will be under the care of the State, which will extend them the greatest possible encouragement. The pedagogical goal of all educational establishments will be preparation for life in the socialist community.

The Way Backward

After the total collapse of the reformist policy, this thesis comes out for the “revolutionary” way. In thesis two, these people call that a “radical break” with the previous policy, demanding a “fundamental change in the means and methods of the political struggle and in its concrete aims.” The goal is then announced (thesis 3) as a “socialist, German soviet republic under the sway of the dictatorship of the proletariat.”

At first sight, this seems really to be a radical break with the old policy of the Social Democracy, for a “socialist German soviet republic” and the “dictatorship of the proletariat” were most hotly contested by the Socialist Party of Germany (S.P.D.). But from the theses following (4 - 7) treating of the role of the Party before and after the revolution, and where it is said that of course the workers councils are to be the organs of the “dictatorship of the proletariat” but under the “leadership” of the Party, it is clear that a radical break with the social-democratic policy is out of the question.

It would be more correct to say that they want to go back to the starting-point of social-democratic policy and to the old conceptions regarding the path and the goal of socialism. For there can hardly at this date be any question that the S.P.D. during and after the war no longer carried on any socialist policy, but that it had sunk, precisely along the road of reformism, to a democratic reform party. And for the very reason that this reform policy ended up in Fascism there can be no talk of a break with this policy. One cannot break with a policy which has ceased to exist.

The old S.P.D. wanted “Socialism” (the purely democratic S.P.D. had ceased to want socialism, and therefore also wanted no dictatorship of the proletariat), but wished to attain it by making use of the legal possibilities apparently offered by bourgeois democracy. The S.P.D. went down with this bourgeois democracy, with which it was inextricably intertwined. Anyone who still wants to achieve socialism finds that such legal possibilities are no longer at hand and must accordingly seek to arrive at the goal along other paths; otherwise it is unthinkable. But this path, which the theses attempt to define, does not differentiate itself on a single point from the conceptions present in the old (not yet bourgeoisified) Social Democracy.

This is shown beyond a shadow of doubt in theses 4 - 7. They reveal nothing more than the conceptions of the social-democratic party of Russia (Bolsheviks), which failed to follow the democratic way of the German S.P.

Here again it is the “revolutionary party conscious of the goal”, the “vanguard”, which leads the masses into the struggles and to victory, prepares and organizes mass movements, mass strikes and the armed insurrection. And after the victory, it is again the party under the leadership of which the workers’ councils are to function as state organs, and workers and functionaries are organized in industrial unions. If a doubt should still remain as to who is supposed to exercise the real power in this socialist soviet republic, it is set aside by thesis 7: “The consolidation of power is taken over, until the forming of a socialist army, by the armed proletariat.”

Which is to say, that after the victory, the armed workers who are necessary for the overthrow of the fascist state forces are to hand over their weapons in favor of a “socialist army”, which naturally is under the command of the party.

Stripped of all wrappings, what remains is the old social-democratic conception regarding the path and the goal of socialism, according to which the beginning and end of the struggle for socialism lies in the conquest of political power through the social-democratic party.

Now the development of the Russian Revolution has proved that the exercise of state power through the Party cannot be called a “dictatorship of the proletariat”; nor is it a dictatorship of the proletariat through the dictatorship of the party (as the Russian Social Democracy formulates it), but it is a dictatorship over the proletariat. That finds its basis in the fact that the party-ruled state in converting the former private-capitalist economy to state economy again subordinates the workers, as wage-workers, to this state management.

From theses 7 - 17 it becomes clear that also in the construction of “socialism” - that is, in the organization of economy through the party-ruled State - it is desired to follow the Russian pattern. The essential point of this organization of economy is that the means of production are declared to be state property and the State comes forward as the single entrepreneur under the control of the workers’ councils. Small enterprises in agriculture and industry are to maintain an independent existence (obviously a mere concession to momentary conditions.)

Wage Labor and State Economy

The socialism which it is desired to construct thus proves to be state economy. It is thought, with economic planning, the elimination of disrupting competition and of profit, in conjunction with the full employment of the increased forces of production, to raise the standard of living of the masses in general. For the very reason that private ownership of the means of production stands in the way of a rational economy - still more: in the permanent crisis, hinders employment of the productive forces at all - the abolition of private ownership appears as the next goal. From this then follows the concentration of economy under the central authority of the State. And here it is the task of the scientists, statisticians, engineers, etc., to carry out the actual construction. In this way the socialist construction of economy appears as an organizational problem (Lenin), as an unrestricted generalizing and bringing to final completion of the tendency already foreshadowed by capitalism in the forming of trusts and cartels. The State becomes a mammoth trust which through organisation overcomes the obstacles which stand in the way of a further expansion of production.

The Russian development has proved that such a state economy can be nothing other than state capitalism. The worker remains a wage-worker, now bound by state liability to labor (thesis 11). He works in state enterprises and sells his labor power to the State. His wage is the price which the State pays him for it. Thus the State steps into the place of the expropriated private capitalist. It is the State which now exercises command over wage labor and thus also rules and exploits the workers. Labor power becomes a commodity, just as under private capitalism; it is set equal to an already created product (the means of existence which the worker receives by way of the wage). It becomes a commodity; which means also that it is degraded to a thing, deprived of all personal will. It is converted from subject to object. Since, however, the worker cannot be separated from his labor power, the same thing holds of the wage-worker himself; he becomes a thing, is degraded to an object, in order to be employed by the owner of the means of production, as another “means for producing”. No further argument is needed in order to state that the fact that in this state economy the worker remains a wage-worker involves also the determination regarding his social position.

But the Russian example is not only a demonstration of the fact that the proclaimed socialism is in reality state capitalism. It has not only proved that state production is not production for need, but ordinary commodity production. There also arose from it a new ruling element which disposes over the state property and thus comes to occupy a privileged position. This element is interested in the further extension of state power, because it is precisely this state power which guarantees its privileged position in society. It also prescribes the direction for the further development, for in its hands are concentrated all the material means and other forces of society. And what else can it do than strive for increase of the state property and magnification of the state power?

Once social production has taken the form of state enterprise, it follows a development, conditioned by way of the relations of power thus created.

The workers are dispossessed, each day anew, when they perform labor; and, in fact, by way of the State, the general proprietor, which appropriates the products of labor. The state is the proprietor, the administrator of the social wealth. It is the organizer, leader and conductor of the social process of production. And it is at the same time the power which determines the portion of the individual and distributes the goods. This is a social organization which is best comprehended if one thinks of the administrative apparatus of all private-capitalist enterprises, stock companies, syndicates, trusts, etc., as combined with the political power of the State. The State as the single entrepreneur is nothing other than such a conglomeration of all administrative organs of private ownership; for just as the administration of private capital is unproductive, and serves merely as an organ for the appropriation of the products of others’ labor, so also the bureaucratic apparatus of the State creates no product and has no other task than to assure to the State what is produced through wage labor in the state enterprises.

Thus the development of state management is marked by an antagonism which is bound continually to intensify. On the one side, accumulation of possession and power in the hands of the state bureaucracy, for it is the State; on the other side the wage-workers, the products of whose labor the State appropriates.

The more the wealth of society as state property increases, the greater is the exploitation of the wage-workers, and the more powerless they are. With the wealth of society as state property, there increases also the impoverishment of the wage-workers; its necessary consequence is the class struggle between wage-workers and state bureaucracy. For the sake of asserting itself in this struggle, there remains to the bureaucracy no other choice than to extend the state’s apparatus of suppression which must grow in the same measure as the cleft deepens. The richer the State, the greater the poverty of the workers and the sharper the class struggle.

The Problem from the Proletarian Point of View

The wage-workers cannot be content with this “Socialism”, even though it should shower them with material blessings (which, moreover, is very much to be doubted). The aim of their striving must be that the rule of capital shall be abolished for them also. Their struggle is directed to doing away with the capital relation itself; that they shall no longer be purchased as labor power and be ranged as a productive force into the productive process on a level with the machines, under the command of the new masters. They must themselves become the masters of production, of their own and the mechanical productive forces. They themselves must take possession of the means of production, in order to use and administer them in the name of society, and answerable to this society. They must themselves rise up to become the director and manager of production, the administrator and distributor of the goods produced, if they wish to unite humanity in the classless society and avoid falling into thraldom again themselves.

From this striving, otherwise than in the case of the intellectuals, there results also another statement of the problem, and new perspectives are opened. In this way conceptions are formed regarding the regulation of the mutual relations of human beings in social production, conceptions which to the intellectual elements appear incomprehensible and which they declare to be utopian and unrealizable. But these conceptions have already unfolded a powerful force in the revolutionary uprisings of the wage-workers, of the modern proletarians. This force was shown first on a major scale in the Paris Commune, which sought to overcome the centralized authority of the State through the self-administration of the communes. It was the cause also of Marx’s giving up his idea (expressed in the Communist Manifesto) that state economy would lead to the disappearance of class society. In the workers’ and soldiers’ councils of the Russian and German revolutions of 1917-23, it arose once more to a mighty and at times all-mastering power. And in future no proletarian-revolutionary movement is conceivable in which it will not play a more and more prominent and finally all-mastering role. It is the self-activity of the broad working masses which manifests itself in the workers’ councils. Here is nothing utopian any longer; it is actual reality. In the workers’ councils the proletariat has shaped the organizational form in which it conducts its struggle for liberation.

So it is no utopia, no empty theory, that these workers’ councils, wherever they group themselves around production, in the shops, as shop organizations, themselves aim to take possession of the means of production, and themselves direct and manage production. It is a demand which is raised in the course of developments by broad masses of workers. The intellectual element will have to suppress this striving with force if it wants to assert its control in the state economy.

From the viewpoint of the workers’ councils, the statement of the problem in matters of economic organization is not as to how production must be governed, and in this sense best organized, but as to how the mutual relations of human beings to each other and among each other are to be regulated in connection with production. For, to the councils, production is no longer an objective process in which the labor of man and the product thereof becomes separated from him, a process which one computes and directs like lifeless material, but to them production is the vital function of the workers themselves. If production – the vital function of human beings when everyone is obliged to work – even today is social in practice, then also the participation of human beings in that production, their own vital function, can be socially regulated without putting them on a level with their own working instruments and without subjecting them to the command of a special class or element. Once the problem is put in this way, its solution is no longer so improbable, but rather easy to find. It presents itself, as it were, of its own accord. It is the labor of human beings itself, their own vital function, in the fields of production, which serves as a criterion for the adjustment of their mutual relations. Once the labor of individuals, as well as their union in shop organizations, has been introduced as the determining factor in the social adjustment of the mutual relations, there is no longer room for any sort of leadership or management which does not itself take part in the productive process, which merely exercises governing functions and appropriates to itself the products of others.

The Workers’ Councils

The theses make it clear that the authors do not believe in the creative force of the proletariat. Even after the workers’ councils as an undeniable fact have produced the proof of that force. No leader of the Social Democracy, not even Lenin, prior to 1917 had recognized the significance of the workers’ councils, and yet they had already played an important part in St. Petersburg in the Russian revolution of 1905. It was not until 1917 in Russia, then in Germany and elsewhere, when the workers’ councils had proved themselves as the form of struggle of the revolutionarily acting proletariat, not until the broad masses of workers were exercising a decisive influence through the workers’ councils upon politics and economics, it was only then that the attention of the political big-wigs of the Social Democracy was directed to them. But not at all in the sense of perceiving in them the first, independent step of the proletariat in the direction of taking its fate in its own hands. The workers’ councils were to them a new phenomenal form which must serve to bring the big-wigs themselves into power. The proletariat, this mighty and constantly still growing social force, was in their eyes just so much social force, like the productive forces in the shops - a force which one employs to arrive at determinate results, to put into practice worked-out plans. Such is the thought of the intellectual as leader of the capitalistic process of production, and such is also his thought when as a Social Democrat he thinks of directing the social forces. To him, the proletariat has no thinking of its own; it thinks and acts just as its leaders think. For that reason, the “revolutionary-marxist party” (thesis 6) must have the leadership in hand if the proletarian forces are to be thrown into the struggle in accordance with the socialist plans. If it is not the revolutionary-marxist party, then it is simply another party which uses the strength of the proletariat in order to carry out its special plans and designs. Anyone who looks at the matter from this angle can come to no other conclusion than: Without the leadership of the party, no socialism. From this standpoint, the workers’ councils appear as new proletarian organs in which the leadership must be won; they must become an instrument in the hands of the leadership, in order thus to influence the thinking and acting of the masses. It is in this spirit also that the workers’ councils are seen and defined in the Theses.

But the force which goes out from the workers’ councils came into being along the exactly opposite way. It was the mass-will born in the shops and mass-gatherings which raised up deputies and delegates out of the mass, as its mouth-pieces, ready at any moment to stand up for the mass with the uttermost means. This mass-will has hitherto still taken form only in conjunction with a few problems of quite general interest, the solution of which could finally be evaded by no one. Thus the will of the masses in Russia in the year 1917 and in Germany in 1918 was directed to ending the war. The war had to be ended, at any cost; all scruples on that point, artificial, cultivated and rooting in the masses themselves, were finally set aside.  In this way there took form everywhere the general will to put an end to the war, and for that purpose to take up the struggle against the military power of one’s own country. The workers’ and soldiers’ councils were merely the organizational form in which this will was converted into action. Thus the workers’ councils are possible only as the organizational form of the will of broad masses of workers; though in this connection it must be borne in mind that such a will takes form only under certain presuppositions and is certainly not called into being through the slogans of this or that party.

Now when the “revolutionary-marxist party” strives for leadership in the workers’ councils, it follows the opposite course. It wants to make use of these organs of the mass-will as a means of causing the masses to act in accordance with the will and plans of the “leaders”. The leader, however, can see the mass merely as material with which he must work, and the independent mass-will is in this connection a hostile element. Hence the workers’ councils under the leadership of a party are robbed of their own strength, and if they live on, it is only through deception, that is, when they conceal from the masses the fact that they have become instruments in the hands of the leaders. And that was the fate of the workers’ councils in Russia and Germany after the first goal, the ending of the war, was attained and opinions diverged with reference to the reconstruction of the social order, - a unified will, that is, on the part of the working masses was no longer present. They were “won” by the mutually competing party tendencies, soon lost even their influence upon the working masses and accordingly have no further value for the party politics of the leader. They have disappeared. It is only in the plans of the “revolutionary-marxist” parties, which are making ready to win the leadership in the coming mass uprisings, that they continue to live as organs through which it is thought to lead the masses.

Yet the spirit which came to expression in the revolutionary workers’ councils is not dead. In truth, the essential point consists in the fact that the workers find in these organizations the coordination of their class force, the overcoming of their dispersion in trade-unions, parties, tendencies. When the workers find this unity in the daily class struggle, when they themselves conduct the struggle by way of spontaneously formed organs while setting aside the old organizations by which they were separated, then is the spirit of the revolutionary workers’ councils again in the working masses; then do the masses reveal their will.

In the present-day struggle, we see again and again the embryonic forms of this class action, but we see also at the same time the hitherto almost always successful attempts of the old labor movement to snatch away from the workers the leadership of the struggle and place it in the trade-union offices. Just as the “communist” economy of the leaders is to be accomplished along the roundabout way of the state official apparatus, so also the conduct of the struggle is to be taken away from the direct authority of the workers and redirected by way of the trade-union apparatus.

But the power of the ruling class under capitalism is so enormous that only the power of the whole undivided working class is capable of overcoming it.

Thus the class relations tell us that the workers can win only when they have overcome the old labor movement through their council-unity; that they can win only when the “legislative and executive power” in the struggle is exercised by the mass itself.

In the year 1918, in Germany, the revolutionary slogan of the proletariat was: “All power to the workers’ councils.”

This slogan has meaning, however, only when the power of the councils is the expression of the unified will of broad masses of workers – yes, of the whole working class. Unity in will and action of the whole working class; that is the soil on which the power of the workers’ councils arises. To this end it is not enough when broad masses in extreme need put an end through their own action to an unbearable condition. They did that in 1918 and brought about only the ending of the war. There must be added to this the positive will to the reconstruction of society, to the readjustment of the relations of human beings in this society.

The former, the intolerable condition, may safely be left to capitalist society itself. The situation of the working class becomes ever more unbearable; wage-labor becomes for a constantly growing mass of millions a curse, a nightmare which cannot be evaded. The situation finally becomes so tense that in broad masses the will is born to put an end to this unbearable condition, cost what it may. But they cannot end it without at the same time doing away with wage-labor. Even the state socialism of the leaders brings no salvation, for it lets wage-labor, organized anew through the state power, remain in existence. For that reason there must be added to the action under compulsion of extreme need the conscious transformation of the social relations. The ending of the state of distress and the reordering of the social relations is a single deed; they are only two sides of one and the same action. Out of the condition which has become unbearable to the working masses, who as wage-workers are given over to absolute impoverishment, there is only this one salvation: that the wage-workers themselves take possession of the means of production. But they can do that only when, combined in the councils, they become the social power and at the same time employ the means of production in common, that is, on communist bases, for the social need.

Communist Economy

The council or soviet power does away with wage labor; it makes the worker the determining factor in production. Its task is to bring about the liberation of the working class, in that it converts the wage-workers to free and equal producers. But these free and equal producers have to adjust their relations to each other. The firm adjustment of these relations, through which the equality and hence also the freedom of the producers is assured, when it has become an all-mastering law; that is, in the last analysis, the solid foundation on which the communist society rests.

This adjustment, however, is nothing other than the regulation of the interacting process of society - the regulation of production and consumption; of the participation of the individual producer in the production of goods and of his consumption of the goods produced in common. And where the labor of the individual producers is at the same time his participation in the social production of goods, it necessarily follows that this labor decides also regarding his share in the goods produced. The social measure by which the relations of the producers among each other must be governed is labor, according to the time through which it operates, the labor-hour. The individual, special labor-hour of the single producer is, however, no social measure; it is different in each case and ever and ever anew. It is therefore necessary to find the social-average labor hour, the average of all the different labor-hours, and this must be made the socially regulating factor.

It is impossible at this place to be more precise regarding the movement of the communist economic life on the basis of the social-average labor hour. On this subject we recommend the work entitled, Grundprinzipien kommunistischer Produktion und Verteilung, brought out by the Group of International Communists (Holland). We merely point to the carrying out of the labor-time accounting in communist society as an immediate goal and hence do not regard it as something to be “attended to later on”.

The economic promotion of labor-time accounting expresses itself politically in working-class control of society. The one does not exist without the other. If the working class is not capable of carrying through the labor-time accounting, that can have no other meaning than that it is not capable of doing away with wage-labor; not capable of taking over the conduct and administration of the social life. If labor time is not made the measure of individual consumption, then wage-labor is the only solution. Which is to say: there is then no direct relation between the producers and the social wealth. It means that through the wage of labor the separation of the workers from the social product, has become a fact. Or, to state the same thing in other words: the management of the production process cannot lie in the hands of the workers. The management of the production process passes over to the “statisticians” and other scientists charged with the distribution of the “national income”. Either abolition of wage labor, with the social-average labor hour as fulcrum of the whole economy, under direct control of all workers, or else wage labor in behalf of the State.

We therefore raise as the immediate slogan of working-class power: the workers bring all social functions under their direct control; they appoint all functionaries and recall them. The workers take the social production under their own management through combining together in shop organizations and workers’ councils. They themselves enter their shop under the communist form of economy, in that they gauge their production according to the social-average labor time. Thus the whole of society goes over to communist production. This does away with the distinction between enterprises which are “ripe” for social management, and enterprises which are not yet “ripe”.

That is the political and at the same time the economic program of the wage workers; it is in this sense that their councils will transform economy. Those are the highest demands which we can raise in these questions; but at the same time also the lowest, because it is a question of the be or not-to-be of the proletarian revolution.

Last updated on: 6.22.2018

The Revolution Is Not A Party Affair

Otto Rühle

I

Parliamentarism appeared with the domination of the bourgeoisie. Political parties appeared with parliament.

In parliaments the bourgeois epoch found the historical arena of its first contentions with the crown and nobility. It organised itself politically and gave legislation a form corresponding to the needs of capitalism. But capitalism is not something homogeneous. The various strata and interest groups within the bourgeoisie each developed demands with differing natures. In order to bring these demands to a successful conclusion, the parties were created which sent their representatives and activists to the parliaments. Parliament became a forum, a place for all the struggles for economic and political power, at first for legislative power but then, within the framework of the parliamentary system, for governmental power. But the parliamentary struggles as struggles between parties, are only battles of words. Programmes, journalistic polemics, tracts, meeting reports, resolutions, parliamentary debates, decisions – nothing but words. Parliament degenerated into a talking shop (increasingly as time passed). But from the start parties were only mere machines for preparing for elections. It was no chance that they originally were called "electoral associations."

The bourgeoisie, parliamentarism, and political parties mutually and reciprocally conditioned one another. Each is necessary for the others. None is conceivable without the others. They mark the political physiognomy of the bourgeois system, of the bourgeois-capitalist system.

II

The revolution of 1848 was still-born. But the democratic state, the ideal of the bourgeois era was erected. The bourgeoisie, impotent and faint-hearted by nature provided no force and displayed no will to realise this ideal in the struggle. It knuckled under to the crown and the nobility, contenting itself with the right to exploit the masses economically and so reducing parliamentarism to a parody.

So resulted the need for the working class to send representatives to parliament. These then took the democratic demands out of the perfidious hands of the bourgeoisie. They carried out energetic propaganda for them. They tried to inscribe them in legislation. Social-Democracy adopted a minimum democratic programme to this end: a programme of immediate and practical demands adapted to the bourgeois period. Its parliamentary activity was dominated by this programme. It was also dominated by a concern to gain the advantages of a legalised field of manoeuvre both for the working class and its own political activity, through the construction and perfection of a liberal-bourgeois formal democracy.

When Wilhelm Liebknecht proposed a refusal to take up parliamentary seats, it was a matter of failing to recognise the historical situation. If Social-Democracy wanted to be effective as a political party, it would have to enter parliament. There was no other way to act and to develop politically.

When the syndicalists turned away from parliamentarism and preached anti-parliamentarism, this did honour to their appreciation of the growing emptiness and corruption of parliamentary practice. But in practice, they demanded something impossible of Social-Democracy: that it take a position contrary to the historical situation and renounce itself. It could not take up this view. As a political party it had to enter parliament.

III

The KPD has also become a political party, a party in the historical sense, like the German Social Democratic Party (SPD) and the Independent Social-Democrats (USPD).

The leaders have the first say. They speak, they promise, they seduce, they command. The masses, when they are there, find themselves faced with a fait-accompli. They have to form up in ranks and march in step. They have to believe, to be silent, and pay up. They have to receive their orders and carry them out. And they have to vote.

Their leaders want to enter parliament. They have to elect them. Then while the masses abide by silent obedience and devoted passivity, the leaders decide the policy in parliament.

The KPD has become a political party. It also wants to enter parliament. It lies when it tells the masses that it only wants to enter parliament in order to destroy it. It lies when it states that it does not want to carry out any positive work in parliament. It will not destroy parliament; it doesn't want to and it can't. It will do "positive work" in parliament, it is forced to, it wants to. This is its life.

The KPD has become a parliamentary party like any other; a party of compromise, opportunism, criticism and verbal jousting, a party that has ceased to be revolutionary.

IV

Consider this:

It entered parliament. It recognised the trade unions. It bowed before the democratic constitution. It makes peace with the ruling powers. It places itself on the terrain of real force relations. It takes part in the work of national and capitalist reconstruction.

How is it different from the USPD? It criticises instead of repudiating. It acts as the opposition instead of making the revolution. It bargains instead of acting. It chatters away instead of struggling. That is why it had ceased to be a revolutionary organisation.

It has become a Social-Democratic party. Only a few nuances distinguish it from the Scheidemanns (SPD) and the Däumigs (USPD). This is how it has finished up.

V

The masses have one consolation – there is an opposition. But this opposition has not broken away from the counter-revolution. What could it do? What has it done? It has assembled and united a political organisation. Was this necessary?

From a revolutionary point of view the most decisive and active elements, the most mature elements have to form themselves into a phalanx of the revolution. They can only do this through a firm and solid foundation. They are the elite of the new revolutionary proletariat. By the firm character of their organisation they gain in strength and their judgment develops a greater profundity. They demonstrate themselves as the vanguard of the proletariat, as an active will in relation to hesitant and confused individuals. At decisive moments they form a magnetic centre of all activity. They are a political organisation but not a political party, not a party in the traditional sense.

The title of the Communist Workers Party (KAPD) is the last external vestige – soon superfluous – of a tradition that can't be simply wiped away when the living mass ideology of yesterday no longer has any relevance. But this last vestige will also be removed.

The organisation of communists in the front line of the revolution must not be the usual sort of party, on pain of death, on pain of following the course of the KPD.

The epoch of the foundation of parties is over, because the epoch of political parties in general is over. The KPD is the last party. Its bankruptcy is the most shameful, its end is without dignity or glory. ... But what comes of the opposition? of the revolution?

VI

The revolution is not a party affair. The three social-democratic parties (SPD, USPD, KPD) are so foolish as to consider the revolution as their own party affair and to proclaim the victory of the revolution as their party goal. The revolution is the political and economic affair of the totality of the proletarian class. Only the proletariat as a class can lead the revolution to victory. Everything else is superstition, demagogy and political chicanery. The proletariat must be conceived of as a class and its activity for the revolutionary struggle unleashed on the broadest possible basis and in the most extensive framework.

This is why all proletarians ready for revolutionary combat must be got together at the workplace in revolutionary factory organisations, regardless of their political origins or the basis by which they are recruited. Such groups should be united in the framework of the General Workers' Union (AAU).

The AAU is not indiscriminate, it is not a hotch-potch nor a chance amalgam. It is a regroupment for all proletarian elements ready for revolutionary activity, who declare themselves for class struggle, the council system and the dictatorship of the proletariat. It is the revolutionary army of the proletariat.

This General Workers' Union is taking root in the factories, building itself up in branches of industry from the base up federally at the base, and through revolutionary shop-stewards at the top. It exerts pressure from the base up, from the working masses. It is built according to their needs; it is the flesh and blood of the proletariat; the force that motivates it is the action of the masses; its soul is the burning breath of the revolution. It is not the creation of some leaders, it is not a subtly altered construction. It is neither a political party with parliamentary chatter and paid hacks, nor a trade union. It is the revolutionary proletariat.

VII

So what will the KAPD do?

It will create revolutionary factory organisations. It will propagate the General Workers' Union. Factory by factory, industry by industry it will organise the revolutionary masses. They will be prepared for the onslaught, given the power for decisive combat, until the last resistance offered by capitalism as it collapses is overcome.

It will inspire the fighting masses with confidence in their own strength, the guarantee for victory in that confidence will free them ambitious and traitorous leaders.

From this General Workers' Union the communist movement will emerge, starting in the factories, then spreading itself over economic regions and finally over the entire country, i.e. a new communist "party" which is no longer a party, but which is, for the time communist! The heart and head of the revolution!

VIII

We shall show this process in a concrete way:

There are 200 men in a factory. Some of them belong to the AAU and agitate for it, at first without success. But during the first struggle the trade unions naturally give in and the old bonds are broken. Some 100 men have gone over to the AAU. Amongst them there are 20 communists, the others being from the USPD, syndicalists and unorganised. At the beginning the USPD inspires most confidence. Its politics dominate the tactics of the struggles carried out in the factory. However slowly but surely, the politics of the USPD are proved false, non-revolutionary. The confidence that the workers have in the USPD decreases. The politics of the communists are confirmed. The 20 communists become 50 then 100 and more. Soon the communist group politically dominates the whole of the factory, determining the tactics of the AAU, at the front of the revolutionary struggle. This is so both at the small scale and large scale. Communist politics take root from factory to factory, from economic region to economic region. They are realised, gaining command becoming both body and head, the guiding principle.

It is from such communist groups in the factories, from mass sections of communists in the economic regions that the new communist movement through the council system will come into being. As for "revolutionising" the trade unions or "restructuring" them. How long will that take? A few years? A few dozen years? Until 1926 perhaps. Anyway, the aim could not be to wipe out the clay giant of the trade unions with their 7 million members in order to reconstruct them in another form.

The aim is to seize hold of the commanding levers of industry for the process of social production and so to decisively carry the day in revolutionary combat, to seize hold of the lever that will let the air out of the capitalist system in entire industrial regions and branches.

It is here, in a mature situation, that the resolute action of a single organisation can completely surpass a general strike in effectiveness. It is here that the David of the factory can defeat the Goliath of the union bureaucracy.

IX

The KPD has ceased to be the incarnation of the communist movement in Germany. Despite its noisy claims about Marx, Lenin and Radek it only forms the latest member of the counter-revolutionary united front. Soon it will present itself as the amiable companion of the SPD and USPD in the framework of a purely "socialist" workers' government. Its assurance of being a "loyal" opposition to the murderous parties who have betrayed the workers is the first step. To renounce the revolutionary extermination of the Eberts and the Kautskys is already to tacitly ally oneself with them.

Ebert – Kautsky – Levi. The final stage of capitalism reaches its end, the last political relief of the German bourgeoisie the end.

The end also of parties, the politics of the parties, the deceit and treachery of the parties.

It is a new beginning for the communist movement the communist workers party, the revolutionary factory organisations regrouped in the General Workers' Union, the revolutionary councils, the congress of revolutionary councils, the government of the revolutionary councils, the communist dictatorship of the councils.

Report from Moscow

Otto Rühle

I travelled illegally to Russia. The business was difficult and dangerous; but it succeeded. On 16th June I stepped on to Russian soil: on the 19th I was in Moscow.

The departure from Germany went hastily. In April, upon invitation from Moscow, the KAPD (Communist Workers Party—Germany) had sent two comrades as negotiators to the Executive, to advise upon the KAPD’s joining of the Third International. It was being said that the two comrades had been arrested in Estonia on the return journey. The necessity was to immediately recommence the negotiations and to bring them to completion and if possible to send back a report to the KAPD, so that information from the KAPD could be received before the start of the Congress.

All in the greatest rush, in that the congress should already begin on 15th June.

Having arrived in Russia, I found out to my joy that the news about the arrests of our comrades had been incorrect. They had travelled back via Murmansk and so were already in Norway on the way to Germany. I also learnt that the congress was not to begin on the 15th June but only on the 15th July.

What I further constituted was less pleasing. My first conversation with Radek was a real argument. Hours long. Partly highly vehement. Every sentence of Radek was a sentence out of the “Red Flag.“ Every argument a Spartacist argument. Radek is after all, lord and master of the KAPD. Dr. Levi and consorts are his willing parrots. They have no opinions of their own and are paid by Moscow.

I asked Radek to hand over to me the Open Letter to the KAPD. He promised me it, but didn’t keep his word. I reminded him of it repeatedly still and others to remind him but didn’t receive it. When I later heard that the two comrades who’d been acting as negotiators had only received the Open Letter only at the very last moment before their departure, the psychology of Radek’s behaviour became clear to me. He, the wiliest of the wily, and the most unscrupulous of the unscrupulous, considering the perfidious lies and insolences which absolutely abounded in the Open Letter, felt of course something so like shame that he shied away from having to account for himself eye to eye with the insulted and libelled.

The methods which I saw practised on me in Moscow aroused my strongest aversions. Whereto I saw: political ’scene-shifting’, calculated as bluff, using flashy revolutionary resolutions to conceal the opportunistic background. Best of all I’d have gone up and away again. However I decided to stay until the second delegate Comrade Merges (Braunschweig), would arrive.

I used the time to make studies.

First I looked around Moscow, mostly without official guidance, so as to also see that which wasn’t decreed to be for viewing. Then I made a long car tour to Kashira and a trip to Nischny-Novgorod, Kasan Simbirsk, Samara, Saratov, Tambov, Tula, etc., thus getting to know the most important places in Central Russia. That provided an abundance of impressions more unpleasant than pleasant. Russia was suffering in all of its limbs, from every disease. But how could it have been any different! Lots was being reported but the example of Crispien and Dittman didn’t tempt me to follow suit. Whose interests would be served then? Only the opponents of Communism. All these shortcomings and drawbacks aren’t, of course, any evidence against Communism. At the most against the methods and tactics employed by Russia to realise Communism.

II

The Russian tactic is the tactic of authoritarian organisation. It has been so consistently developed and in the end carried to extremes, by the Bolsheviks to the fundamental principle of centralism that it has led to over-centralism. The Bolsheviks didn’t do that out of wantonness or desire to experiment. The revolution forced them to it. If today the representatives of German party organisations are filled with indignation and cross themselves over the dictatorial and terroristic phenomena in Russia, its easy for them to talk. Were they in the position of the Russian government. They’d have to act exactly so.

Centralism is the organisational principle of the bourgeois-capitalist age. With it the bourgeois state and the capitalist economy can be built up. Not however the proletarian state and the socialist economy. They demand the council system.

For the KAPD—contrary to Moscow—the revolution is no party matter, the party no authoritarian organisation from the top down, the leader no military chief, the masses no army condemned to blind obedience, the dictatorship no despotism of a ruling clique; communism no springboard for the rise of a new Soviet bourgeoisie. For the KAPD the revolution is the business of the whole proletarian class within which the communist party forms only the most mature and determined vanguard. The rise and development of the masses to political maturity of this vanguard doesn’t await the tutelage of the leadership, discipline and regulation. On the contrary: these methods produce in an advanced proletariat such as the German exactly the opposite result. They strangle initiatives, paralyse the revolutionary activity, impair the combativeness, reduce the personal feeling of responsibility. What counts is to trigger the initiative of the masses, to free them from authority, to develop their self-confidence, to train them in self-activity and thereby to raise their interest in the revolution. Every fighter must know and feel why he is fighting, what he is fighting for. Everyone must become in his consciousness a living bearer of the revolutionary struggle and creative member of the communist build-up. The necessary freedom therefore will however never be won in the coercive system of centralism, the chains of bureaucratic-militaristic control, under the burden of a leader-dictatorship and its inevitable accompaniments: arbitrariness, personality cult, authority, corruption, violence. Therefore transformation of the party-conception into a federative community-conception on the line of councilist ideas. Therefore: supercession of external commitments and compulsion through internal readiness and willingness. Therefore: elevation of communism from the demagogic prattle of the paper cliche to the height of one of the most internally captivating and fulfilling experiences of the whole world.

The KAPD came to these of its conclusions through the simple realisation of the very obvious circumstance, that every country and every people because they have their own particular economy, social structure, traditions, maturity of the proletariat i.e., their own particular revolutionary requirements and conditions, must also have their own revolutionary laws, methods, rhythm of development and outward appearances. Russia isn’t Germany, Russian politics aren’t German politics, Russian revolution isn’t German revolution. Lenin might demonstrate hundreds of times that the tactics of the Bolsheviks were a brilliant success in the Russian Revolution—they wouldn’t by a long way be the right tactics for the German revolution. Every attempt to force us to adopt these tactics must provoke the most decisive opposition.

Moscow is making this terroristic attempt. It wants to elevate its principles to the principles of world revolution. The KAPD is its agent. It works on Russian orders and to the Russian model. It is Moscow’s gramophone. Because the KAPD doesn’t play along in this eunuch-role, it is persecuted with deadly hate. One reads only the most insulting aspersions, the poisonous libels and accusations with which one fights us without hindsight of the revolutionary situation in which we stand and of the effect which this vile practice triggers in our bourgeois opponents. Dr. Levi and Heckert must fling at us every piece of rubbish that Radek and Zinoviev press into their hands. That’s what those boys are paid for. However because the KAPD doesn’t give in nevertheless it ought to be censured by the Congress of the III International to comply to Moscow’s power-of-command. It was all excellently prepared. The guillotine was set up. Radek smugly tested the sharpness of the blade. And already the high court was sitting. It should have been a grand scene. Too beautiful to be accomplished.

III

As I returned from the Volga, Comrade Merges had arrived in Moscow.

On the same day a sitting of the Executive of the III International took place. We weren’t invited. In our absence, the motion of Meyer (KPD) that we should be refused admission to the Congress was discussed. The motion was rejected. On this they called us to the sitting, and were so gracious as to grant us advisory status at the Congress.

At this meeting we got to see the discussion guidelines which were to be laid before the Congress. They were intended to be the basis for the decisions of the Congress. Of which in his boastful manner Radek had already said to me earlier, that he had it in the pocket. “In the pocket!”

The discussion guidelines—weren’t these not old familiars? Indeed. We recognised in them the notorious Heidelberg theses repeated. They were only somewhat more elaborately set out, somewhat theoretically doctored, somewhat enhanced in “Centralist-dictatorial”. They were made into theses of Russian power-politics out of theses of Spartacist division-politics, and should now become theses of international violation by Russian methods.

We sacrificed a night to their study, and knew in the morning what we had to do.

We went to Radek, and put to him the question of if in the Open Letter (which still hadn’t been given to us) the demanded expulsions of Laufenberg, Wolffheim and Rühle was an ultimatum, and if the Executive insisted upon the fulfilment of these demands before the KAPD would be admitted to the III International. Radek tried miscellaneous evasions, but we demanded a plain answer. Then Radek explained: It would satisfy the Executive if the KAPD promised that they would—at a later date, at a suitable opportunity—free themselves of Laufenberg and Wolffheim. Of my expulsion there wasn’t any more question. This remarkable yielding to demands which had been raised with the truest ring of conviction as conditio sine qua non made us suspicious. Now we demanded to know which demands of the Executive concerning the admission of the KAPD into the III International were definitive. Radek explained: You must in the name of your party at the beginning of the Congress give the declaration that the KAPD will abide by all decision—then you’ll receive voting status at Congress: then nothing will stand in the way of your admission into the III International.

Were we hearing right: in advance most solemnly declare that we wished to submit to the Congress decisions, which we didn’t even know. . . .Was that supposed to be one of Radek’s jokes?

No—it was serious.

Now if the Congress were to decide upon the dissolution of the KAPD?. ... Joking apart: he did indeed have that intention.

Thereby Radek was unmasked.

What was in the theses then?

Ah now.

1. The communists are duty-bound to set themselves up in a rigid centralist, iron-hard, militaristic, dictatorial organisation.

2. The communists are duty-bound to take part in parliamentary elections, and to enter parliament to carry out a new type of revolutionary parliamentary work there.

3. The communists are duty-bound to remain in the trade unions so as to help the revolution to victory in these revolutionarily-transformable institutions.

4. Each of the parties that are members of the III International is to call itself the Communist Party, consequently the KAPD has to sacrifice its continuing independence and dissolve itself into the KPD.

Thus joking apart: the Congress actually should pronounce the death sentence upon the KAPD, and we, the KAPD delegates, should receive voting status, i.e. we should be able to help pronounce the death sentence, if we were to declare prior that the KAPD wanted to submit to the pronounced death sentence without resistance.

Could there be a greater political comedy? Or a greater perfidy?

We laughed in Radek’s face, and asked if he was mad.

A party, that on the grounds of the Heidelberg theses had split from the KPD, had constituted itself on a new basis, and had given itself organisationally a new structure, tactically a new orientation and theoretically a new programme, that vigorously stood on its own two feet, concentrated in itself all the active forces of the German revolution and in size of membership is far superior to the KPD—such a party refuses, may, indeed must refuse, even once to enter into a discussion on the discussion of its right to exist. As a child can never return to its mother’s womb, likewise the KAPD doesn’t return to the KPD. Even one word of discussion about this is mischief, is absurdity, is a political childishness.

We left Radek standing so, with the hangman’s rope that he had intended to put around the neck of the KAPD, and went on our way. We felt no desire to give ourselves further headaches in this atmosphere of political trickery and cheating, of diplomatic stage-management and opportunistic string-pulling, of lack of moral restraint and cold-grinning cunning.

Inside ourselves we had nothing, nothing at all to look for in a congress which met so far from all communism.

Therefore we declared: “We decline with thanks participation in the Congress. We have decided to travel home, to recommend to the KAPD a wait-and-see attitude, until a truly revolutionary International has come into being, which it can join. Adios!

IV

Our decision had a surprising effect. If until then we were treated like spoilt children, whose misdeeds caused the poor parents anxiety and vexation, and should be put across the knee and given a good hiding, so they now suddenly started to come round. The threateningly swung whip disappeared behind the mirror, and the carrot was brought out of the drawer. They began to woo us with brotherly words, such as should be customary between communists, and with the appearance of goodwill towards objective communication. Even Radek took on manners. He negotiated reasonably and railed against the KPD, who he called, “a lazy and cowardly gang”, who he would make “wet their pants”, etc. We had prolonged and thorough discussions with him, Zinoviev, Bucharin and at the last moment even a determined discussion with Lenin. The great respect and high admiration that we have for him, and that through this discussion were raised even further, did not prevent us telling him, in a totally German manner, our opinions. We explained to him that we felt it a scandal and a crime against the German revolution, that in a time when hundreds of brochures had to be written opposing opportunism, he found the time and felt occasioned to write a brochure exactly against the KAPD—the active and most consistent party of the German revolution, which now, like his other writings of recent times, was being used by the entire counter-revolution as an arsenal, not to correct our supposedly wrong tactic in the interest of the revolution, but to knock dead every stirring activity of the masses with arguments and quotes from Lenin. We demonstrated to him that he is completely misinformed about conditions in Germany, and that his arguments for the revolutionary exploitation of the parliament and the trades unions only have a laughable effect. We finally left him without the slightest doubt that the KAPD, as it refuses any material help from Moscow, also with complete determination won’t stand for any interference from Moscow in its politics.

The discussions left in us the feeling that the Russian comrades had begun to appreciate what a mistake it had been to go too far. That in the end the International, i.e. in the first line Russia, needed the KAPD more than vice versa, the KAPD the International. So for them our decision was most unpleasant, and they sought a compromise. As we were in Petrograd on the way home, the Executive sent after us another invitation to the Congress with the statement that the KAPD (although it hadn’t complied with or promised to comply with a single one of the draconian conditions of the Open Letter) had been allowed the right to the voting status at the Congress. Too crude a bait! Fundamentally it was of course a matter of complete indifference whether the KAPD assisted at its proposed execution in Moscow with advisory or voting status. So we gave our thanks once more and travelled to Germany.

The outcome of the Congress had justified our tactics. The decisions taken on the questions of concern to us—building of the party, parliamentarianism, trade union politics—reveal the most unconcealed opportunism. They are decisions on the line of the right wing of the USP, decisions that even to the interpretation of the Däumigs, Curt Geyers, Koenens, etc., on the parliamentary and trades unions questions mean a violation. But can and should the KAPD share the same Congress decisions on the same ground with the USP? One must answer in the affirmative to this question and think out the consequences in order to judge the complete monstrosity and absolute impossibility of the KAPD joining this III International.

This is not to say that we wished to oppose the organisational unification of communist workers and an international alliance of the revolutionary proletariat. By no means! We only mean, that the affiliation to an actual revolutionary International will not be decided through paper Congress decisions and the goodwill of the strata of the hierarchies. It decides itself through the will to struggle and the revolutionary activities of the masses in the hour of the decision. It is the product of the great purifying and maturing processes of the revolution, which eliminates everything halfway and wrong and only lets the true and whole count. The KAPD may confidently look forward to this decision, then it will rise to the historic task that awaits it.

As I said good-bye to Lenin, I said to him: “Hopefully the next Congress of the III International can take place in Germany. Then we will have brought you the concrete evidence that we were in the right. Then you will have to correct your point of view.” To which Lenin replied laughing: “If it so happens, then we would be the last to stand in the way of correction.”

May it so happen! It will so happen!