charles wofford

How Ordinary People Become Nazis: A Review of Robert Gellately's 'Hitler's True Believers'

By Charles Wofford

Imagine a political speech so venomous, so hate filled, so threatening, that at times it is impossible to understand the speaker. He rages against enemies foreign and domestic, against capitalism, against communism, against ethnic and political minorities, against disabled people, and insists on the superiority of his own nation. Thousands of torch-bearing zealots respond with orgasmic delirium. Is it not obvious who this image is supposed to evoke?

The image of German fascism as an overwhelming, cult-like madness is common and is re enforced by the Hollywoodization of the Nazis. In popular media Nazis might as well be demons who merely appear as human. As a result the protagonist may kill them without any guilty conscience. Ironically, this same mechanism of spectacle-induced failure of conscience found extensive use in German fascism. The radical Othering of the Nazis is comforting; it ensures us that it couldn’t happen here, it couldn’t happen to us, because the Nazis are not us, they are the radical Other.

In Hitler’s True Believers: How Ordinary People Became Nazis, Robert Gellately shows that the German fascists were far more rational and normal than we often imagine. This is not his endorsement, of course. Gellately’s real accomplishment is in showing how normal the Nazis were without “normalizing” them, showing how rational they were without “rationalizing” their atrocities. The Nazis were not the radical Other; most of them were not very different from us. They went to work, followed the law, and loved their families. The lesson is how easily it all happened to the German people, how every step along the way made sense at the time, and by implication how easily the same thing could happen to us. Perhaps it already has.

The German people were aware of the regime’s crimes; indeed, they were in many cases active participants. If it were not for mass grassroots initiative the Nazis would not have been as successful as they were. Gellately writes of racial persecution, “It was all so public and impossible to overlook. […] The public did more than stand idly by, because numerous individuals cooperated in the enforcement of racial policy, before and after the milestone reached with the Nuremburg Laws in 1935” (263).

The most difficult lesson for those of us on the Left is recognizing that the “socialism” in “National Socialism” is not just a moniker but had real content. German fascism was a broth of nationalism, socialism, and antisemitism. The nationalist angle put it in opposition to the international socialism of Marxism, and the socialism positioned it as a foe to the bourgeois democracies of France, Britain, and the United States. Though the Nazis were hostile to the idea of abolishing all private property, they did seriously attempt to abolish finance capital (which, of course, they linked with Jewish influence), and they did attempt to nationalize several industries to wield them in the name of the German people. The antisemitic conspiracy mongering enabled the fusion, as the German fascists cast their capitalist foes and their Marxist foes as two sides of the same Jewish-led effort at world domination. The negative manifestation of this worldview culminated in the Holocaust. The positive vision was the Volksgemeinschaft.

Volksgemeinschaft is the National Socialist utopia; a futuristic vision of a society living in harmony with nature. “Nature” here is conceptualized in terms of a bogus blood-and-soil theory, but that was not an invention of the Nazis. Similar forms of racism were widely entertained throughout the global scientific community. “Volk” literally means “people,” but refers to a racialized concept of it as in the Völkisch Movement of late 19th century Germany. “Gemeinschaft” may be translated as “community,” but refers more to tight-knit communities of people who know each other personally (contrast Gesellschaft, a more rationalist conception of society as defined through social contracts, rational self-interest, etc.) Volksgemeinschaft is what emerged from the blending of nationalism and socialism. Its racism makes it repugnant to an internationalist or humanist perspective championed by the Left, while its community-oriented nature is repellant to today’s neoliberal individualism. The point here is that the Nazis were anti-humanist and reactionary, but they were also futurist and modern. They were not conservative.

But that recognition puts us in a difficult spot. Today’s popular left discourse has committed itself to an outright denial of any authentically socialist character to German fascism. So acknowledging that National Socialism is one of the infinite conceivable varieties of socialism leaves the Left rhetorically exposed. One of the foundational premises of socialism is that society is what we make it. We can therefore arrange society however we wish. But our time and place is so hyper capitalistic, and its ideology so individualist, that any and all socialisms are seen as equivalent. Yet the figures who became major Nazi leaders had, in Gellately’s words, “an obsession about socialism. Indeed, thanks to the creation of a welfare state from 1881 onward, reinforced by the social impact of the war, a degree of socialism engrained itself in German society and was enshrined in the Weimar Republic’s constitution” (41).

The place of socialism in the Nazi vision was not unambiguous, and there were internal debates. Gellately relates a debate between the Nazi Left represented by Gregor Strasser and the Nazi Right represented by Alfred Rosenberg.

If Gregor Strasser bowed to Hitler’s authority or at least his political abilities, he still advocated a more socialistic line. As might be expected, Alfred Rosenberg, as one of the party’s self-styled ideological experts and a die-hard anti-Bolshevist, pushed back in a newspaper article in early 1927. Nationalism in its purest form, he said, united with socialism and, if stripped of any internationalism, represented the nation’s spirit of liberation. Hence, emphasizing the socialism in the Party’s name (as Strasser and his comrades wanted) was wrong, because the main point of their activity was to rescue the nation. Strasser replied quickly that socialism meant more than merely using the state to protect the people from capitalist greed, as Rosenberg would have it. Instead, it aimed to create another form of economic life and implied the participation of workers in ownership, profit, and management. This socialism accepted that private property was the basis of all culture and because capitalism was an immoral system that stole the nation’s goods, the state had to step in to restore fairness (77).

These debates abated as the Right wing of the party took greater control. Eventually the Strassers were marginalized, and the working class elements of the party leadership liquidated in a series of purges. But their socialist contributions were still a part of Nazi doctrine, and if they did not represent a powerful wing of the party there would have been no need to purge them in the first place.

Another difficult lesson: many devoted Nazis in the 1930s had been equally devoted communists and socialists in the 1920s. The Nazis did not come to power primarily through violence; they persuaded the vast majority of Germans (and Austrians, and many others across Europe) that they really were the way forward. A big part of that was refuting of the Treaty of Versailles. The humiliations it imposed on Germany were despised by the entire population, so that anything done to escape its terms was met with enormous praise, and even foreigners were in admiration of Germany’s unwillingness to stay down.

Hitler’s True Believers belongs to a genre of “How the Nazis Came to Power.” It is not a strictly historical genre, and it includes such varied titles as Max Horkheimer’s The Eclipse of Reason and William Shirer’s Rise and Fall of the Third Reich. No matter the angle, the point is generally the same: this movement of German National Socialism, which culminated in mass murder on an industrial scale and the self-immolation of European civilization, emerged from beliefs and social structures that had been present in Europe for centuries, and every step of its development made sense at the time. National Socialism was not an aberration or explosion of barbarism in the midst of an otherwise civilized world. It was the culmination of particular processes of civilization which contained these murderous possibilities from early on. The hideous racism of the Nazis was well-supported by the scientific establishments of the time. Hitler’s survival-of-the-fittest mentality was derived from theories in the natural sciences (particularly Darwin) applied to the social realm. The Nazis saw Bolshevism as the death of civilization and the Western democracies as its decay. Thus they were (in their own minds) the sentinels of civilization, driven by science, united in their desire for progress toward a newly unified society, the Volksgemeinschaft.

One clear parallel to our own predicament is in the rhetoric employed to defend American military presence around the world. Neuroscientist and public commentator Sam Harris, for instance, is known for arguing that American-committed atrocities just aren’t as morally bad as those committed by official enemies, since we are “well-intentioned,” while they are not. But that merely brings us back to the issue of a failure of conscience. For the Nazis it was that they were Das Herrenrasse (the master race) while their victims were Die Untermenschen (sub-humans). For the French it was the cultural appeal: they were “civilized” and on a “civilizing mission” (Mission Civilisatrice), while the colonized were primitive. Whether we appeal to the Nazi blood theory, the French cultural theory, or Harris’s intention theory, the end is to facilitate that same failure of recognition, that same failure of conscience, which we also inflict on ourselves through our representations of the Nazis in popular media.

Hitler’s True Believers will remind leftists of the importance of internationalism. Yet even this concept is too limiting. In an era of mass anthropogenic environmental destruction and mass extinction, not even humanism is sufficiently broad. After National Socialism there is no excuse for blindly trusting humanism, enlightenment, science, rationality, technology, “the People,” “the Proletariat,” or any other idealized construct to save us from ourselves. These ideas must be engaged critically, their limits registered, and their employment must be razor-sharp. If we fail this challenge, then we may already have one foot in the jackboot.

My copy of Hitler’s True Believers shows on its cover a crowd of bright-eyed Germans giving the Roman salute, presumably to their Führer off camera. The focus of the photo is a young woman, flanked by several soldiers and many children. The exuberance on their faces is beautiful. It is hard to see anything political inspiring such admiration in 21st century America. Consider how defeated, how humiliated, how despairing many Germans were after World War I; is it so hard to understand why they would want to believe in something that could inspire that sort of joy? Our contemporary situation is also marked by widespread depression, anxiety, and despair about the future. How easy would it be for a Hitleresque figure to bring us all, by dint of our own reason, to the brink?

 

Charles Wofford is a Ph.D. candidate in historical musicology and critical theory at the University of Colorado at Boulder.

Joe Biden’s Iraq War Vote is Disqualifying

(Photo: Bastiaan Slabbers/NurPhoto via Getty Images)

By Charles Wofford

Question: What happens if you kill several pedestrians because of a driving mistake?

Answer: You lose your license, probably do a lengthy prison sentence, and pay some hefty fines.

Question: What happens if you kill hundreds of thousands of people because of a “mistake” in governance?

Answer: You get to run for president.

In 8th grade, I marched with about a thousand others in downtown Flagstaff, AZ against the impending war in Iraq pushed by the Bush Administration. I was one of many: the war in Iraq saw some of the largest anti war demonstrations in recorded history, with over 3,000 separate events from 2002 through 2003, often happening simultaneously across multiple continents. I remember enduring the petty warmongering of my school teachers, some of whom thought that we ought to also invade North Korea, unaware – or uncaring – that millions would have died. I remember being told time and again that the Iraqi people did not understand democracy and we had to teach them how civilization worked. I recall the Bush Administration declaring that it would no longer respect the sovereignty of nations, but would seek out and destroy “terrorists” (a vague label with varying definitions even within the U.S. government) wherever it found them. It was a declaration of war against the entire world. I remember how apparently respectable intellectuals like Christopher Hitchens revealed themselves as false prophets, conveniently becoming wealthier and better known in the process.

Now, as then, only the far-right fringe supported the invasion. But in 2003, those people happened to be in power. Because the war was based on a lie, everyone who died in it died in vain. American soldiers did not die supporting our freedoms or rights; they died to further the corporate interests of oil tycoons such as then-Vice President and ex-CEO of Halliburton Dick Cheney. It also means that the hundreds of thousands of slain Iraqis were not merely killed, but murdered. The foundational claim of the entire war was a lie. Therefore it was not justified, and the unjustified taking of another’s life is called murder. The United States leaders who waged that war are responsible for the murders of thousands of Americans and hundreds of thousands of Iraqis.

The war in Iraq was an atrocity. It destroyed an entire country and cast an entire region into chaos. According to a study by The Lancet, over 600,000 Iraqis had died by the end of 2006 from both violence and infrastructure ruination caused by the war, a number which is surely much higher now in 2020. Even more horrifying, Iraq has been turned into a radioactive dump. The catastrophic effect of radiation poisoning on the population is well documented, despite attempts to cover it up. Cancer rates are significantly higher in Iraq than in any industrialized nation, and congenital birth defects are extremely common. Even American soldiers are developing cancer at elevated rates. The depleted uranium used by the U.S. military in Iraq has a half life of 4.5 billion years, which means that we can expect the sun to turn into a red giant by the time Iraq is clean again. The poisoning of a nation is an atrocity on top of the war itself, and especially so in this time of global ecological crisis. This is Hitler level destruction, and Joe Biden was right there supporting it. Now he wants to be president, because, in his own words, he “knows more than most people know,” since he’s “been around a long time.” 

How can Joe Biden say that this crime, this atrocity for which he voted, was a mistake? How can he look himself in the mirror having supported the slaughter of hundreds of thousands of people and just say “oops?” How can he look at this radioactive genocide and not recognize his complicity? Does not his very failure to do so add to the case that he is unfit to lead? He says he voted for the war to try and prevent a war, which makes no sense. Biden has been criticized for seeming out of touch, and people are wondering about his mental fitness. But even back in 2003, he showed an inability to make sound judgments. Moreover, at the time of his vote on the Iraq War, Biden was the chair of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, an ideal spot to have a privileged view into the evidence for and against the war. His excuses do not add up; even an 8th grader had better judgment. To be a leader means to some degree to anticipate, to see further than others. Does Joe Biden see further than others?

It is one thing to make a mistake, to make a serious mistake, or even to make a mistake that hurts people. But if Joe Biden genuinely recognized any wrongdoing, he would not be running for president. Should not the magnitude of his error disqualify him from holding public office, especially the highest office in the land? Should he not at least have the decency to let someone else lead the country? This is not like using the wrong form of “there” in a high school essay, or buying decaf; this error resulted in the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people and enormous ecological destruction. What is this man doing running for president at all?

Were the United States held to the standards of international law, Joe Biden would face a lengthy prison sentence, as would Hillary Clinton, Adam Schiff, and other senators and representatives who supported that war. The leaders and architects such as President George Bush, Vice President Dick Cheney, Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, Deputy Secretary of Defense Paul Wolfowitz, Secretaries of State Colin Powell and Condoleezza Rice, and others would likely have been executed. The same would be true of those generals who first put depleted uranium into U.S. weaponry starting back in the first Gulf War. After all, we put Nazis to death at Nuremberg merely on grounds of conspiring against peace. 

Having protested the Iraq Atrocity, I cannot now in good conscience vote for someone who supported it (no, I did not vote for Clinton in 2016 and I do not regret that decision). What kind of choice is it between voting for a rapist or voting for a war criminal? Who will lecture me on Donald Trump as “the most dangerous president in history” (Sanders)? Who would dare bring up “lesser evilism” when Joe Biden is party to mass murder? Who will presume to take the moral high ground when defending someone who was “tricked” by the oh-so-cunning Bush Administration into supporting an atrocity? 

Charles Wofford is pursuing a PhD in historical musicology at the University of Colorado at Boulder.

On Historical Materialism: A Theoretical Revival

By Charles Wofford

What is the responsibility of the historian? Historians show how those things often taken for granted, taken as a fact of life, are relatively recent developments. Alternately, they show how those things one may assume to be strange and unusual have, in fact, been present for a long time. That approach fits neatly into the broader critique of ideology, and there is a reason Marx was so invested in history and historical method. He revealed the historicity of "nature" in, among other places, his 1844 Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts, which were not brought to public light until the mid-20th century, well after the developments of "orthodox" Marxisms and Marxism-Leninism (Claeys, 2018). The effort was to expose Adam Smith, David Ricardo, and the other political economists of the eighteenth century for treating historical developments (from which they had conveniently benefited) as though they were eternal nature. Writes Marx, "Political economy starts with the fact of private property; it does not explain it to us. It expresses in general, abstract formulas the material process through which private property actually passes, and these formulas it then takes for laws" (Marx, 1844). If something is historical, that means it had a beginning. If it had a beginning, it can therefore have an end. Historical materialism - the exposure of capital's historical conditions of existence - was a sword forged to slay Mammon.

But a sword is only as good as the steel out of which it is made. Today, many introductions to historical materialism not only fail to show the real power of the Marxist analysis but obscure the nature of Marxist historiography. Some Marxist intellectuals (like Richard Wolff), acting out of the best intentions, recapitulate capitalist historiography. The purpose of this essay is to introduce historical materialism with academic rigor, and to get at its deeper project, i.e. setting a general theoretical foundation for a revolutionary understanding of historical development, with the specific purpose of thinking past capitalism. What is historical materialism, and what is not historical materialism? There are several issues, each to be framed as a critique: The critique of teleology, the critique of "modernity," the critique of technological determinism, and the ideological self-critique.

First, historical materialism is not a theory of history that sees "primitive communism" necessarily leading to "slave" systems, necessarily leading to "feudal" systems, necessarily leading to "capitalist," then to "socialist" and "communist" systems. Any thesis of overarching historical development following from some "necessary" internal logic ought to be seen as outmoded and historiographically suspect. Teleological views of history have been rightly abandoned by academic historians, and Marxism has shown itself flexible and powerful enough to outgrow its nineteenth-century trappings.

"The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of class struggle." But class struggle is not some mechanical, deterministic thing, like a clock. It is rather a dynamic process that may yield any number of results. Feudalism did not have to lead to capitalism, and capitalism arose not from feudalism itself, but from the ruins of feudalism. It is true that feudalism was only formally abolished (in France anyway) on August 4th, 1789, at the beginning of the French Revolution. But feudalism, throughout the Medieval ages with which it is associated, was a largely decentralized mode of production. It was not the same thing as the absolutism of the French ancien regime, overthrown in the revolution of 1789, which aimed to consolidate power into the monarch (indeed, the entire concept of "feudalism" has been challenged by academic historians, and with good reason. Marxist intellectuals have been slow on the uptake, with even people like Richard Wolff casually referring to "feudalism" as though it is a widely agreed upon concept). Wood and Brenner note that absolutism, and the enlightenment which supported it, may be seen as a defeated historical alternative to the rise of capitalism. In any case, it is a mistake to see feudalism as flowing directly into capitalism by means of a bourgeois revolution; rather, feudalism was already on the decline, and capitalism and absolutism of the French monarchy were alternative ways out of the medieval era.

Capitalism did not have to emerge, and that is the fundamental lesson of historical materialism: capitalism is not necessary or natural, and therefore it is not something that any country or society "needs." The idea that certain modes of production must pass into others is an example of the old historian's fallacy of projecting the present onto the past, fallaciously assuming a greater homology between "modern" and "pre-modern" society than may be justified. It also justifies imperialist expansion against non-capitalist societies, as one believes that the imperialist may be acting to bring those societies "forward" in some greater sense, and that any suffering is justified in the name of "progress." Marxist historian Ellen Meiksins Wood (1942-2016) had it right when she identified the point of historical materialism to be isolating what makes capitalism specific, what makes it unique, not how it may manifest age-old human practices like commerce. The job of the Marxist historian, then, is not to show how modern capitalist society has its seeds in the ancient past, but to show how things became the way they are in the relatively recent past. Marxist historiography, understood in this way, is empowered, rather than challenged, by the postmodern polemic against "grand narratives." "We agree, there are no 'grand narratives'" says the Marxist. "That is why we doubt the Thatcherite declaration that 'there is no alternative.'" Are capitalist triumphalism and capitalist realism (Fisher, 2009) not the ultimate "grand narrative?" Historical materialism is about creating a "theoretical foundation for interpreting the world in order to change it" (Wood, 1995). It is not about shoehorning all of history into a preconceived theoretical framework. In this sense, much of the youtube left intelligentsia (with otherwise excellent user "Cuckphilosophy" as an example), recapitulates schoolboy-level understandings of these issues ("Marxism is a grand narrative, postmodernism is against grand narratives" etc).

The Marxist historian ought to search for the breaks, fragments, and gaps, the hidden or lost potentials. Why? Because in doing so we reveal capitalism in its historicity, and take it out of the realm of nature, and thereby bring to light the possibility of surpassing it. The apologists of capital have always situated capitalism as part of nature, never as part of history. Histories of capitalism discuss how commerce has been around for thousands of years, which is true. Yet the aim of such "histories" is precisely to de-historicize; to show how capitalism goes all the way back to the foggy pre-history of humanity, and how modern commercial society is just the culmination of all those tendencies. The Marxist historian will therefore seek the fragments and breaks, and not the continuities or the overarching narratives.

Second, a central project of the historical materialist is the critique of the concept of "modernity." The rise of capitalism, the rise of individual rights, the scientific revolution, the industrial revolution, the French revolution of 1789 and the "Glorious Revolution" of 1688 are all sometimes taken as one unified package, lumped together under the term "modernity." This is an error.

That is not to say that there is no such thing as the "modern," but a critical engagement with the entire concept is necessary if we are to conceive of an alternative modernity to neoliberal capitalism, one that is not merely some form of nostalgia. Unfortunately, thinkers like Max Horkheimer and Theodor W. Adorno still hold undue sway in leftist circles, although their historiography is flawed. In Dialectic of Enlightenment (1944) Adorno and Horkheimer set out a general critique of modernity as overly rationalizing and systematizing the totality of human life. But they take "Enlightenment" in a broad definition, including in its ambit all of the features of modernity noted above.

A detailed account of why Adornian historiography is wrong deserves and entire book of its own, dedicated to the rise of capitalism in England, the French revolution, the German Aufklärung, and other topics. Moreover, I do not wish to state that Adorno and Horkheimer were the only leftist intellectuals guilty of severe historical and historiographical errors (Foucault also comes to mind). But Dialectic of Enlightenment still carries an august status in even some orthodox Marxist circles, when it misleads more than it illuminates.

The historical materialist critique of modernity begins with the following observations: The rise of capitalism in England, the French Enlightenment, the German Aufklärung, the scientific revolution, and the industrial revolution did not come to us as part of a unified package. Capitalism as we understand it arose in rural England (Wood, 2002; Brenner 1976; Marx, 1867), and was not initially tied to the 1789 French revolution. The bourgeoisie and the capitalists were not originally the same class: most French bourgeois were office-holders, lawyers, or intellectuals; they were not capitalists or even merchants. It was the long-established landlord class in England which emerged as the nascent capitalists, and their literature was related to agricultural "improvement" (which in practice meant yielding higher profits), not the "enlightenment" of the citizenry.

Immanuel Kant's famous reply to the question "What is Enlightenment?" defines "enlightenment" as "man's exit from self-inflicted immaturity." He goes on to link this "exit" to "the public use of reason." Is this challenge of finding an "exit" through "public use of reason" not more in line with revolutionary leftist thinking than reactionary thinking? If a philosopher comes along who argues that the pursuit of progressive values (broadly defined) results in greater harm to humanity than otherwise, would we not regard such a figure as a reactionary? Why, then, do we give figures like Adorno a pass when they argue the same (or nearly the same) thing?

Adam Smith's famous passage on the invisible hand goes thusly:

"As every individual, therefore, endeavours as much as he can both to employ his capital in the support of domestic industry, and so to direct that industry that its produce may be of the greatest value; every individual necessarily labours to render the annual revenue of the society as great as he can. He generally, indeed, neither intends to promote the public interest, nor knows how much he is promoting it. By preferring the support of domestic to that of foreign industry, he intends only his own security; and buy directing that industry in such a manner as its produce may be of the greatest value, he intends only his own gain, and he is in this, as in many other cases, led by an invisible hand to promote an end which was not part of his intention. Nor is it always the worse for the society that it was no part of it. By pursuing his own interest he frequently promotes that of the society more effectually than when he really intends to promote it. I have never known much good done by those who affected to trade for the public good. It is an affectation, indeed, not very common among merchants, and very few words need be employed in dissuading them from it." (Smith, 1776, emphasis added)

Smith's famous argument is echoed by 20th-century neoliberal economist Friedrich Hayek:

"As decentralization has become necessary because nobody can consciously balance all the considerations bearing on the decisions of so many individuals, the coordination can clearly be affected not by "conscious control" but only by arrangements which convey to each agent the information he must possess in order effectively to adjust his decisions to those of others. And because all the details of the changes constantly affecting the conditions of demand and supply of the different commodities can never be fully known, or quickly enough be collected or disseminated, by any one center, what is required is some apparatus of registration which automatically records all the relevant effects of individual actions and whose indications are at the same time the resultant of, and the guide for, all the individual decisions. This is precisely what the price system does under competition, and which no other system even promises to accomplish." (Hayek, 1944)

In no way can either of these passages be squared with Kant's appeal to "the public use of reason." Both Smith and Hayek argue explicitly in favor of the individual, private use of reason, and believe that the greater good is served via the aggregate of individuals pursuing their own private interests. Nowhere is this argument to be found in Kant, nor is it in Kant's peers in the debate (Moses Mendelssohn, Karl Reinhold, etc.) "The public use of reason must at all times be free, and it alone can bring about enlightenment among men; the private use of reason, however, may often be very narrowly restricted without the progress of enlightenment being particularly hindered" (Kant, 1784). Is Kant's statement not more easily squared with notions of public planning, and public ownership, rather than some assumed dialectical inversion whereby private greed promotes the public welfare? If the public use of reason is a main criterion, then the main inheritors of the enlightenment in the 20th century might be Salvador Allende and the Cybersyn project, or computer scientist Paul Cockshott's book with political economist Allin Cottrell, Towards a New Socialism (1993). Wood may be right when she wrote in "Modernity, Postmodernity, or Capitalism?" (1996)

"So this isn't just a phase of capitalism. This is capitalism. If "modernity" has anything at all to do with it, then modernity is well and truly over, not created but destroyed by capitalism. The Enlightenment s dead. Maybe socialism will revive it, but for now the culture of "improvement" reigns supreme...The only concept we need to deal with this new reality is capitalism. The antithesis to that, of course, isn't postmodernism but socialism." (Wood, 1996)

My goal here is not to exonerate that heterogeneous phenomenon called "the Enlightenment," which is itself arguably as obscurantist a label as "modernity." But if the main portions of the Enlightenment happened in France and the German states, and capitalism arose in England, the question must be asked, whence arises the idea that the Enlightenment and capitalism were two parts of a united and oppressive modernity?

The answer, I think, is in another misappropriated Marxist idea: base and superstructure. Because ideological developments are assumed to reflect materialist ones, some Marxists conclude that the intellectual movement of the Enlightenment, coeval with the rise of capitalism, must therefore be capitalism's intellectual expression. But again, the main strains of Enlightenment thought were in France and the German states and promoted "enlightened absolutism." They had little in common with the literature of "improvement" that thrived on England, and which was used to justify the mass enclosures that took up special urgency after 1688, and which were associated with different notions of citizenship (such as the English Bill of Rights). The mistake arises from an excess of historiography and a dearth of history. Recall that one third of classical Marxism's foundation was English empiricism. Modern Marxists sometimes place such emphasis on Hegelian method that, though their sword may be made from great technique, the shoddy materials result in a shoddy weapon. A frail weapon will not slay the dragon of capital.

Historians have discussed the "English Enlightenment." However, the idea itself is contentious, as the main representatives of English enlightenment thought (John Locke, Adam Smith, Edmund Burke, Edward Gibbon, etc.) were fiercely conservative, while the main figures of the continental Enlightenment were often imprisoned or had to meet in secret to avoid persecution for their radicalism. The "English Enlightenment," was notably distinct from the continental enlightenment(s).

If pressed to choose a single date for the "birth" of capitalism in England, my candidate would be 1688. Capitalism had, of course, been in utero for many years, with the enclosures gradually increasing and the power of the landlords increasing with it. But 1688 was the original revolution, which first enabled the legalization of what we now call capitalism on a mass scale. The Bank of England was founded six years later, which began the long and complex process of redefining national sovereignty along lines of government debt (Goodchild, 2002). The Bank of England was taken over by the state, which amounted to the taking over of the state by the Bank of England. This bank could never crash because it was backed up by the state, which had the monopoly on violence to extract whatever taxes were needed to maintain the bank. This enabled the Bank of England to create infinite loans on the promise that they could always be paid back in the future. That in turn justified the mass creation of paper currency secured against those instabilities suffered by previous paper currencies. Hence, the "creation" of the wealth which eventually allowed for the industrial revolution.

A brief side comment: in Capital Vol I, Marx calls the emergence of capitalism in England the "classic form" of accumulation by dispossession. In a footnote he then writes:

"In Italy, where capitalist production developed earliest, the dissolution of serfdom also took place earlier than elsewhere. There the serf was emancipated before he had acquired any prescriptive right to the soil. His emancipation at once transformed him into a "free" proletarian, without any legal rights, and he found a master ready and waiting for him in the towns, which had been for the most part handed down from Roman times. When the revolution which took place in the world market at about the end of the fifteenth century had annihilated northern Italy's commercial supremacy, a movement in the reverse direction set in. The urban workers were driven en masse into the countryside, and gave a previously unheard-of impulse to small-scale cultivation, carried on in the form of market gardening." (Marx, 1867)

This comment may seem to demolish the thesis of capitalism's origins in England. However, Marx is remarkably vague here. Why is England the "classic" case if Italy is the place where capitalist production developed "earliest?" One idea is that Marx realized at some level he was founding a whole discipline and method of analysis, and thus decided for his own convenience what counted as the "classic" case. However, such an explanation seems too contingent. A comrade suggested to me that early Italian capitalism was destroyed by the decades of invasion and warfare in Italy during the first half of the sixteenth century. Looking into this thesis further, I found that, combined with epidemics of Plague, he Great Italian Wars rendered low the opportunities for investment. As a result, those with capital, rather than investing in improving production, invested in buildings and art-hence the artistic bloom of the Italian Renaissance (Malanima, 2008). Their capital did not yield profit in the same self-perpetuating ways we associate with capitalism, and was turned into use-value, rather than maintaining and expanding itself as exchange-value. Implicit in this explanation is the idea that wealthy Italians would necessarily engage in capitalist behavior unless such behavior is deflected, and that sounds a little too close to the "Capitalism is human nature" position. Whether one agrees or disagrees with this particular analysis, the larger point is this: the capitalism that since consumed the world, the capitalism in which we are living- "our" capitalism-did not come from Italy. Early Italian capitalism was snuffed out.

Philosopher Philip Goodchild couches his analysis in a Nietzschean historiography, inquiring as to when, exactly, the "Death of God" occurred. He places it at 1694, the founding of the Bank of England and the merger of state and financial interests that had been kept apart for thousands of years. "It was this deed which caused the murder of God" (Goodchild, 2002). But if capitalism killed God, then capitalism must first have been born, and the moment of the birth of capitalism as a social system, albeit of course in its infancy, was 1688. Marx notes in chapter 27 of Capital that the 1688 "Glorious Revolution" enabled the "capitalist profit-grubbers" to engage in profit-grubbing on an entirely new scale. While his emphasis is mostly on land, enclosure, and the creation of a mass property-less proletariat, the creation of modern finance is a subject on which historical materialists ought to have much to say.

Third, technological development is not itself the locus of revolution. As Wood notes, the point of historical materialist analysis is that each mode of production has its own logic, and its own way of needing to be understood.

"It is one thing to say that capitalism uniquely fosters technological development. It is quite another to contend that capitalism developed because it fosters technological development, or that capitalism had to develop because history somehow requires the development of productive forces, or that less productive systems are necessarily followed by more productive ones, or that the development of productive forces is the only available principle of historical movement from one mode of production to another […] the principle is that at the foundation of every social form there are property relations whose conditions of reproduction structure social and historical processes." (Wood, 1995, 120-121)

A simple historical example may be used to further illustrate the point: The ancient Romans could have had an industrial revolution of their own. They had simple steam machines and they had wagons. But for some reason, the opportunity or the imperative never arose to stick a steam machine on the back of a wagon and have the steam do the work of pushing it. Had such a moment arisen, the industrial revolution might have been 1,800 years ago. If technology will save us, it would have done so by now. The lesson of historical materialism here is that the revolution will be a class revolution, not a technological revolution (also opening room for critiques of the pseudoscientific cult of Singularitarianism). Building on work done by Robert Brenner, Ellen Meiksins Wood shows the particular historical circumstances that allowed capitalism to emerge when and where it did, and not before (Wood, 2002). Historical developments need to be seen as historical, not as metaphysical; they do not follow from some predetermined logic waiting for its moment of fruition. History means beginnings. Technology has been around long before capitalism, so the beginnings of capitalism cannot be essentialized to technological development, unless we are prepared to once again view capitalism as existing in utero from the foggy pre-history of humanity.

Fourth, historical materialism involves challenging the categories in which we tend to think as themselves products of history. While Wood emphasizes the falseness of "economic" vs "political," we should also be careful of categories like "base" vs "superstructure," as ripe for reification. The terms of our analysis should be fluid and open to self-critique. As Slavoj Zizek put it in his 2009 debate with Alex Callinicos,

"If communism is an eternal idea, then it works as a Hegelian concrete universality. It is eternal, not in the sense of a series of abstract features which can be applied to every situation, but in the sense that it has the ability, the potential, to be re invented in each new historical situation." (Zizek, 2009).

That is the genuine power of historical materialism, to take the past and re-member it so as to continually recreate the space for revolutionary thought "in each new historical situation."

In the preface to his classic The Making of the English Working Class (1964), E.P. Thompson notes the problems created in thinking of class as a "thing" rather than a process ("If we stop history at a given point, then there are no classes but simply a multitude of individuals with a multitude of experiences"), and how such thinking engenders a framing of any sort of concept of "class consciousness" as embodying the worst caricatures of vanguardist organizational methods. The logical contradictions are clear:

"'It' - the working class - exists, and can be defined with some accuracy as a component of the social structure. Class-consciousness, however, is a bad thing, invented by displaced intellectuals, since everything which disturbs the harmonious co-existence of groups performing different 'social roles' (and which thereby retards economic growth) is to be deplored as an "unjustified disturbance-symptom.'" (Thompson, 1964, 10)

Thompson sees class-consciousness as something that exists empirically, and which ought to be studied. All classes have some kind of consciousness, and it is part of the job of the Marxist historian to study their historical development. In a similar vein, all movements have vanguards, and one may study those empirically too. This is the meaning used by Marx and Engels in the manifesto.

"The Communists, therefore, are on the one hand, practically, the most advanced and resolute section of the working-class parties of every country, that section which pushes forward all others; on the other hand, theoretically, they have over the great mass of the proletariat the advantage of clearly understanding the line of march, the conditions, and the ultimate general results of the proletarian movement." (Marx and Engels, 1848)

One may say to a "non-political" person, that while they may not care for politics, others do, and they will not care for their interests. One may also say to those skeptical of vanguards that while you may not pursue a position to influence the movement in ways you think are positive, that does not mean others won't. And those people will not necessarily lead the movement in directions that you think are best. Refusing to recognize any notion of the vanguard is akin to refusing to recognize any notion of politics. As Lenin put it,

"But what else is the function of Social-Democracy [i.e. revolutionary socialism] if not to be a "spirit," not only hovering over the spontaneous movement, but also raising the movement to the level of "its program?" Surely, it is not its function to drag at the tail of the movement; at best, this would be of no service to the movement; at the worst, it would be very very harmful." (Lenin, 1902)

Why does one become an activist (taking that term in the broadest sense) if not because one thinks one has something to contribute? Do we, as socialists, not think that we have a better political program than non-socialists? Are we not, in essence, trying to convince more people to think in socialist terms?

"For there will always be found some who think for themselves, even among the established guardians of the masses, and who, after they themselves have thrown off the yoke of immaturity, will spread among the herd the spirit of rational assessment of individual worth and the vocation of each man to think for himself." (Kant, 1784)

In this vein, see Zizek's emphasis on the nature of an "authentic" master who "forces us to be free" (see, for example, his debate with Jordan Peterson). In this vein, perhaps psychoanalysis may indeed serve a revolutionary role in creating the "maturity" needed to recognize the prospects for an "authentic" vanguard.

Obviously, this essay has gleaned over complex issues with a broad brush. It is really only aimed at correcting some errors that I have seen in explications of historical materialism. As noted above, just the discussion of capitalism and the enlightenment from a historical materialist perspective is itself a book waiting to be written, and this essay does not pretend to be that. Moreover, I have not discussed why feudalism was on the decline already if not because of the very same things that led to capitalism, or the critics of the Woods/Brenner theses (like Jairus Banaji, whose excellent work will be the subject of another essay). I have also shown the limits of my own historical understanding regarding the nature of the economy of the Italian states during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. But if we need a way out of "capitalist realism" and to show that, contra Thatcher, there are alternatives, then the first thing to do is look to the past for inspiration and understanding. Historical materialism is a method by which we may ensure that our backward glance is actually historical, rather than merely nostalgic. But it must be re invented as our understanding of history is re invented: historical materialism is a historiography, not a history. What historical materialism will tell you depends on which historical information you put into it. The good historical materialist is not just a communist but is a historian too. And that means really knowing history.


Charles Wofford is a communist and a PhD student in historical musicology.


BIBLIOGRAPHY

Chomsky, Noam. "The Responsibility of Intellectuals," The New York Review of Books, 1967.

Claeys, Gregory. Marx and Marxism (Nation Books, 2018).

Cockshott, Paul and Allin Cottrell. Towards a New Socialism (Russell Press, 1993).

Fisher, Mark. Capitalist Realism: Is There No Alternative? (Verso Books, 2009).

Goodchild, Philip. Capitalism and Religion: The Price of Piety (London: Routledge, 2002).

Greene, Gayle. "Feminist Fiction and the Uses of Memory." Signs 16 no 2, 1991.

Hayek, Friedrich A. The Road to Serfdom (University of Chicago Press, 1944).

Lenin, Vladimir Ilyich. "What Is To Be Done?" in The Essential Works of Lenin ed. By Henry M. Christman (New York: Benton Books, 1966).

Malanima, Paolo. "The Italian Renaissance Economy (1250-1600)." International Conference Villa La Pietra, Florence, May 10th-12 th 2008, Europe in the Late Middle Ages: Patterns of Economic Growth and Crisis.

Schmidt, James, ed. What is Enlightenment? Eighteenth-Century Answers and Twentieth-Century Questions (University of California Press: 1996).

Smith, Adam. An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations (Prometheus books, 1991).

Thompson, E.P. The Making of the English Working Class (Vintage Books, 1964).

Wood, Ellen Meiksins. The Origin of Capitalism: A Longer View (Verso Books, 2002).

Democracy Against Capitalism: Renewing Historical Materialism (Verso Books, 1995).

"Modernity, Postmodernity, or Capitalism?" Monthly Review July/August, 1996

Zizek, Slavoj. "Slavoj Zizek: What does it mean to be a revolutionary today? Marxism 2009." Video File. Youtube.com. 2009. Accessed May 18th, 2019. Relevant comment at 2:13. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_GD69Cc20rw&t=640s

A Humanist Capitalism?: Dissecting Andrew Yang's 2020 Presidential Platform

By Charles Wofford

One of the most delightful experiences I've had as a leftist is when I hear someone who has no apparent class consciousness express, seemingly from nowhere, a remarkably perceptive comment on class society. I recall a coworker once mentioning aloud how strange it was that we were all so frightened of the boss and what they might do to us. Entrepreneur and 2020 democratic presidential candidate Andrew Yang of Venture for America has given us another example with his essay, " Humanity is more important than money - it's time for capitalism to get an upgrade ." Throughout the article, Yang advocates for a new capitalism, based on three principles: that humanity is more important than money, that the individual person ought to be the unit of the economy rather than the dollar, and that markets exist to serve "common goals and values." In the end, Yang explicitly calls for federal government intervention to "reorganize the economy."

There is little to disagree with in Yang's moral analysis and his point that capitalism does not serve the interests of the great mass of people. To be clear, I also think the government ought to reorganize the society along more egalitarian lines. But Yang also appeals to certain widely accepted economic beliefs about the "invisible hand," and self-interest and competition being the main drivers of economic prosperity. As a result, Yang's case is subject to the same critique that Marx made of the classical political economists in his 1844 economic manuscripts :

"Political economy starts with the fact of private property; it does not explain it to us. It expresses in general, abstract formulas the material process through which private property actually passes, and these formulas it then takes for laws. It does not comprehend these laws - i.e., it does not demonstrate how they arise from the very nature of private property...Precisely because political economy does not grasp the way the movement is connected, it was possible to oppose, for instance, the doctrine of competition to the doctrine of monopoly, the doctrine of craft freedom to the doctrine of the guild..."

Translation: Like the classical political economists, Yang looks at the capitalist world in which we live and simply takes it as a natural order, whose economic tendencies are unchanging laws. Because he does not understand the historical origins of the divisions of labor that make up capitalism, Yang can posit such oxymorons as "human-centered capitalism." Because he sees capitalism in the misleading and pedantic terms of supply-and-demand ("capitalism prioritizes what the world does more of") he thinks we need to merely demand a more just world and capitalism will provide it. Yang is clearly not involved in activist spaces, otherwise he would know that people have been making radically humanist and egalitarian political demands for longer than capitalism has been around, and at no time has capitalism worked toward those goals. If Yang read up on the founding of the United States (particularly Madison's Federalist Paper No. 10), he would know that the founding fathers intended this anti-egalitarianism. If Yang read up on Hamilton, he would know that many founding fathers thought the wealthy were the natural representatives of all people - a complete fabrication and a lie.

Yang argues for a conception of markets that meet human needs rather than compelling humans to meet the needs of markets. But then he talks about how we can change our behavior as economic subjects in order for the market to provide what we want. The contradiction seems lost on him: if markets are to be geared toward human need, then the question is not an economic one, but a political one. The question is not "how do we read the market?" The real question is "how do we get the power to create a human-centric society?" And this is the conceptual problem behind Universal Basic Income (UBI). Yang justifies it in terms of the productivity it may increase. But that's not a humanist concern; it is a capitalist-economic concern.

A brief history of how capitalist relations came to be is in order. Yang never defines exactly what he means by capitalism, but he suggests that it goes back over 5,000 years, conflating it with the invention of money. In reality, the notion of capitalism - private, for-profit ownership of industry with wage labor and commodity production - has its origins in 17th-century England. Over the centuries the city dwellers of the country - who were mostly merchants and exchangers by profession - had acquired so much money, and thereby power, that they were able to appropriate common-owned land in England. Up until the late 18th century, most of the land in England was commons: the people who lived there had rights to the land irrespective of whatever the "owner" may wish to do with it. Modern concepts of ownership did not exist at the time. As the merchants in the cities grew more wealthy, they bought out or often outright stole commons land in order to expand their holdings, and thereby their businesses. By the late 18th century, the merchant class (who Marx called the bourgeoisie, which literally just means "city-dweller") had bought parliament itself, and started passing parliamentary laws of enclosure to finish up the long consolidation process the bourgeoisie had begun over 100 years prior. At the end of this process, a tiny number of people concentrated in the cities owned some 98% of the land and industry in the UK. 99% of the population, formerly peasants, had to go work for them in a condition called "employment" in order to live. They were now wage laborers: the proletariat. This is the origins of what we now call capitalism. It did not come about through some peaceful transition, but through a violent process of robbery by a small class of an entire country. One of the relevant points to take from this history is that the peasants of England did not voluntarily employ themselves to the nascent bourgeoisie. They were compelled to go to work in the factories because they had been robbed of their own access to the means of existence. None of this has anything to do with freedom; it is all coercion.

The standard economic view of money is that it is a neutral means of exchange. However, if any one individual or clique acquires enough money then they may purchase and bribe politicians, control entire fields of media coverage giving them huge influence on political opinion, and they may commit horrible crimes with impunity because no one will take them to court, etc. In short, having enough money allows one to shape society to one's whims at the expense of others. The conclusion is that money is not merely a neutral means of exchange; it is a form of social power. A society focused around human need, and not markets and money, would therefore have, at the very least, strict limits on the amount of money any individual may possess. Ideally, it would abolish money altogether. But this is against the capitalist premise, which is about free exchange.

With this in mind, where does Yang propose that the government get the power to do these things that he suggests? Short of forcibly expropriating the wealth of the 1%, I do not see a way. Money is a form of social power, and the government is a prime target for that power. Yang has perhaps watched one too many episodes of the television show The West Wing, which shows some fairy-tale vision of politics as an honest journey of visionaries. Yang does not seem to understand that it's all about accumulation of wealth, exploitation of resources, the maintenance of power systems, and that capitalist society is unavoidably inhuman.

David Harvey gives a beautiful example that may help to illustrate the point. In almost every major city in the world today one can find thousands of high-rise condominiums existing in the same city as thousands of homeless people. The condos are empty except for a few weeks of the year. They were not purchased to be lived in; they were purchased to be speculated on in a housing market. This housing market grew to such proportions and has been given such reign that it caused a housing crisis which foreclosed some 4 million people of their homes. Those who lost their homes are not the same people who speculated on the housing market; those people are doing just fine. What does this show? Precisely that the market itself, if allowed to grow unchecked, may wreak havoc upon a society; a truism that seems obvious to everyone except business people and economists.

Ok, so we control the market via government regulation. But those market owners do not like that, and they lobby against regulation laws, they bribe politicians, they control the media discourse etc. Those without the money do not have any real recourse within the system to stop them, for the system has been hijacked via its own methods. So it's not as simple as "well, the government can just do this." The government has long ago been bought out by the capitalists, and politics is treated like another market now. Since the 1980s laws have been made such that it is all but impossible to reregulate the markets. The solution is that we need a completely new system, because "capitalist democracy" (so-called) has fallen past the event horizon into unworkability. This means the end of capitalism, and it means a newer, more direct, less representational form of government. It means public banking rather than private banking. It means the redistribution of wealth from those at the top who have robbed from all of humanity through a coercive system. Interestingly, this would also entail smaller government in many ways, as institutions like the FBI, the CIA, the military industrial complex, and others which exist to protect the status quo would be abolished. Just to drive the nail home, it would also mean the abolition of the Constitution and its replacing with something more progressive and centered around human values rather than defending the "minority of the opulent." (Madison)

Harvey rightly blasts the UBI idea as simply a front for Silicon Valley to get more effective demand for their products. The UBI is really a subsidy to Silicon Valley, not a method of providing for the people. That Yang is an entrepreneur from Silicon Valley is no coincidence.

In other ways, Yang's entrepreneurial training implicates him in the very values he attempts to refute. His "human-centered capitalism" is not a society that is in fact based on human need, but simply around the old fallacy of "meritocracy." A moment's reflection would tell us that a truly humane society would not be meritocratic, as the notion of "merit" is inherently politically implicated. Who defines what counts as merit? A truly humanist society would allow all people the means to develop to their fullest potential on their own terms.

Yang proposes a "parallel economy around social good." The capitalist economy would simply allow this parallel economy to get plump before taking it over. That is exactly what the capitalists are currently doing with the internet. If Yang's "parallel economy" were possible, it wouldn't be needed.

Yang writes, "Most entrepreneurs, technologists and young people I know are chomping at the bit to work on our problems." Our problems are known and have been known for at least 100 years. The problem is capitalism: private control over the means of production. The solution is socialism: worker control over the means of production. The means are popular revolution, which is above and beyond electoral politics. Unless and until you are speaking that language, your "human-centric" ideology is just a sham. Technology will not save us on its own; otherwise it would already have done so.

Lastly is Yang's line about how a humanist capitalism could "spur unprecedented levels of social activity without spending that much." This sounds like the opposite of a humanistic anything, and very capitalist. Why? Because Yang is thinking of more ways to get people to work more, produce more, engage in more activity. But we are already working ourselves to death; American worker productivity is higher than it's ever been. We don't need new ways to do more; we need new ways to do less. We need a new concept of what it means to "contribute" to society. A humanist society would not be obsessed with getting people to work, producing, exchanging, etc. but would rather leave them in relative peace while providing at least for their basic needs. But this is what the entrepreneur is trained to do: produce more, take more risks, and be more daring in the market. In this mindset, people are inherently viewed as commodities, tools to be used by the entrepreneur. We need to move beyond capitalist thinking if we are to move beyond the problems of capitalism.

In conclusion, Mr. Yang's proposed solutions are impressive to those armchair theorists and liberals who lack a deeper understanding of capitalism. They will not solve our problems. They may, in fact, empower capitalism to appropriate even more of our lives. I cannot help but suspect that Mr. Yang is just the liberal version of Donald Trump: the "successful" businessman who is "outside the system." Yang is noticing that there is a political market for progressive values and he is attempting to cash in on it.

He is, after all, an entrepreneur. But treating politics like a business is part of our problem. We've seen how capitalism can posture around the idea of "freedom." Do we not think it could do the same with ideas like "humanism?"


Charles Wofford is an activist and PhD student in historical musicology.

Science in The House (of Representatives)!

By Charles Wofford

According to The Huffington Post, more scientists than ever are running for office in 2018. [1] This includes roughly 60 PhD scientists running for federal offices, some 200 people of STEM backgrounds running for various state level seats, and the political action group 314 Action ("members of the STEM community, grassroots supporters, and political activists who believe in science") is apparently pressing upwards of 500 other scientists to run for office at various levels. Why is this happening? The obvious answer is that scientists across the board are alarmed at the failure of our legislature to do anything about climate change. So, there is an effort to get a strong scientific presence in government in order to influence policy on energy and climate change. This is likely a very good thing.

However, we ought to be critical in our embrace of the scientific community's political efforts. I have written recently about the efforts of the right to gut education of its political content. [2] The emphasis on "vocational education" on the part of the Right is part of a larger effort to discourage would-be students from studying "useless" topics like history, philosophy, literature, or others that tend to lead to politicization (the Republican phrase for "politicization of students" is "learning to hate America"). If successful, this effort would create a whole generation of Americans educated in "vocational" fields and who tend to simply "do their job" without questioning the political motives behind their jobs.

Unfortunately, many scientists in the United States are politically naïve. This lends itself to similar thinking about education in "useless" topics like history, philosophy, literature, etc. Observe Stephen Hawking's solemn declaration that "philosophy is dead" from his book The Grand Design. Or Steven Pinker's obnoxious preaching about how "the truth can't be sexist" or how "political correctness" is ruining America. [3] Similar comments may be found on biologist and University of Chicago professor Jerry Coyne's popular blog, Why Evolution is True. Neuroscientist and popular science advocate, Sam Harris, disdains to do meaningful research into any number of historical and political topics on which he comments (see his encounter with Noam Chomsky, where, in response to Chomsky's thorough citations refuting his claims, Harris accuses Chomsky of "running into the weeds"). Observe also the pathetic attempts of others to "debunk" gender studies because it threatens their sense of manhood. [4] Many of these people are major, popular scientists who, when discussing topics related to the humanities, sound like creationists trying to talk about science. Chomsky himself blasted this narrowness of political thought among intellectuals in the 1960s. [5] He is worth mentioning, as he is one of the only major scientists to be politically knowledgeable; usually one must look toward historians like Howard Zinn and Michael Parenti (a political scientist by trade), philosophers and revolutionaries like Angela Davis and Cornel West, or literature professors like Edward Said.

Will the presence of scientists in government help us combat climate change? The obvious answer is yes. However, there may be ways that the political ignorance of many scientists could be used against them. For example, a hypothetical bill that apparently seems to help combat climate change can easily be given at the expense of some technicality buried within its language. The result would be that the bill, ostensibly aimed toward providing climate change relief, would in fact further hamper the powers of the government to do just that. This hypothetical issue has been born out in practice: for example, the fall of apartheid in South Africa was done on the condition that the economy be almost totally privatized. Today, much of the South African economy is held by those who benefited from apartheid. [6] The result is that while apartheid is formally gone, the government was unable to do much to help the real conditions of people, and apartheid lives on today in the South African economy. [7] Similarly, a bill aimed toward, say "combating the effects of climate change," might be misleadingly named. There is no reason to think that scientists, merely by virtue of their scientific expertise, would be less vulnerable to those kinds of tricks. To think otherwise is to fall into the liberal trap that we live in an ideal, perfect political system, and the only problem is that the wrong people somehow got a hold of it. Anyone who knows about the history of the United States (not the idealized history taught in many schools, but the real history) and the explicit intentions of the founding fathers in framing the constitution knows that this is simply not true. [8] There is a class element to our political structures that must be dealt with, and if it is not, then the inclusion of a scientific content to the neoliberal governmental structure will result in even more destruction.

Furthermore, we ought to recognize the many political spaces scientists occupy in the United States. True, the religious Right despises science and has a worrisome amount of political power. However, in other senses, American society fetishizes science. Neil deGrasse Tyson and Carl Sagan are cultural giants (Sagan's admiration of Trotsky is rarely brought up). Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris, Steven Pinker, and Noam Chomsky are loved and supported by millions. With the possible exception of Chomsky and the long-deceased Sagan, these people are more likely to be sympathetic toward, rather than critical of, an ideology that promotes "innovation" in a "free marketplace of ideas." Isn't innovation, in a sense, what science is all about? And the peer-reviewed scientific process is one of ruthless competition. Daniel Dennett, a major philosopher of mind and cognitive scientist, has emphasized the need for science to be competitive. What a convenient opinion for one who happens to be a well-respected and well-paid figure. One wonders why science cannot be cooperative, especially since more and more of it is; most major studies published these days are done by teams of experts working together: theoretical and particle physicists working with mathematicians, etc. The point here is that much of the American scientistic ideology correlates with the intentions of the Right in gutting political education. And the celebrity status of scientists can be manipulated for political ends in much the same way as the celebrity status of anyone else. There is no reason to think that scientists would be above that sort of flattering attention. Indeed, judging by the arrogance of many a popular scientist, they seem ripe for the picking.

We ought to be wary of the scientist in power. Like all political forms, a scientocracy must be held to the glaring light of criticism by an organized and agitated populace that does not trust its leaders, no matter who they are. Scientocracy is not democracy, but another form of oligarchy based on the fallacy of merit, and as Michael Parenti put it, "democracy is not about trust...it's about accountability." Scientists often speak a big game about competition, but they despise criticism directed toward them that does not jump through their particular hoops, sometimes going so far as to attempt to totally discredit those critics by means of hoax publications. It is incumbent on us not to engage only in the kind of competition and challenge that the scientific community insists is legitimate.

It would be good to have more scientists in government. It would also be good to have more writers, philosophers, artists, musicians, librarians, plumbers, cashiers, janitors, more of the unemployed, more of the disabled, more of those who are homeless, and more of the spectrum of life in general in government. The only special space for scientists is the scientific arena - not the political one.


Charles Wofford is a socialist activist in Boulder, CO


Sources

[1] Alexander C. Kaufman, "The Largest Number of Scientists in Modern U.S. History are Running for Office in 2018," Washington Post, 2/3/2018.

[2] Charles Wofford, "Presidential nonsense and Warmongering," Boulder Daily Camera, 2/1/2018.

[3] Steven Pinker, "Steven Pinker at Davos: Excessive Political Correctness Feeds Radical Ideas," Big Think, 1/31/2018.

[4] James McWilliams, "The Hoax that Backfired: How an Attempt to Discredit Gender Studies will Only Strengthen it," Pacific Standard, 5/31/2017.

[5] Noam Chomsky, "The Responsibility of Intellectuals," New York review of Books, 2/23/1967.

[6] Rachel L. Swarns, "Rarity of Black-Run Businesses Worries South Africa's Leaders," New York Times, 11/13/2002.

[7] Haydn Cornish-Jenkins, "Despite 1994 Political Victory Against Apartheid, its Economic Legacy Persists," South African History Online, 6/15/2015.

[8] James Madison, "Federalist Paper No. 10," 11/23/1787.

In Defense of the Hammer and Sickle: On Symbolism and Struggle

By Charles Wofford

According to Cultural Hegemony Theory, often attributed to Antonio Gramsci but also developed by Edward Said and Nicos Poulantzas among others, the ruling class maintains its power by deliberately shaping the cultural discourse to which the populace is exposed. The hegemony theorists recognized that no ruling class can survive by constant application of violence; it must obtain some degree of legitimacy among the oppressed populace. This means normalizing the oppressive status quo. Cultural hegemony is therefore the structure through which the ruling maintains the day-to-day domination, and may be seen as the complement to the deliberate application of violence, which is reserved for those moments when hegemony fails to marginalize the populace.

A major part of maintaining cultural hegemony is controlling language. In American political discourse, that movement whose policies may destroy the world is referred to as "conservatism;" the party openly sneering at democratic processes is the "Democratic" Party; those who advocate a total tyranny of private corporations call themselves "libertarians;" and advocating increasing the number of private bank owners ("break up the banks!"), rather than advocating socialized control of banking, is enough to earn you the title "socialist." This kind of distortion (or actual political correctness) is like the footprint of cultural hegemony.

A different aspect of the control of language is the control of symbols. Given the effort of the Left toward popular democracy (or as we might call it, "democracy"), what are the hegemonic distortions of the symbols of democracy? And does the pattern of turning terms into their opposites (as exemplified above) give us a clue into that distortion?

Obviously I think the answer to the second question is, "yes," and to answer the first question: the hegemonic distortion of the symbols of democracy is to turn those symbols into symbols of anti democracy. What is the word for the purest anti democracy in political theory? The word is totalitarianism. Which society is mostly widely and immediately regarded as totalitarian in the United States? Answer: the Soviet Union.

There are many theories of democracy. If we look at the etymology, we find the Greek "demos," (people) and "kratos" (power). A democracy, taken in perhaps its most literal and broad sense, is a state of affairs where power resides in the populace. Exactly how that state of affairs obtains may vary widely; plenty of arrangements may qualify as "democracies."

But pure democracy, democracy in its most terrifying and effective moment, is revolutionary practice. What is more democratic than a populace so agitated, so politically conscious, that they have decided en masse to forcefully dispose of their ruling class? What is more revolutionary than a class conscious populace that organizes its own communities independently of the dominant organizations, to such an extent that they replace them?

The demonization of the hammer and sickle is part of the demonization of genuine democratic, populist impulses in defense of capitalism. The hammer and sickle, as a symbol of the greatest revolution in history, is therefore a symbol of the purest ecstasy of democracy. We ought to embrace it, reclaim it, make it ours again on the left, and not be scared to be associated with it.

But there is another intersection here: as noted Marxist political scientist Michael Parenti has pointed out, democracy itself is an invention of the people of ancient history to guard against the abuses of wealth. A quick survey of the history of Ancient Greece confirms this: prior to Athenian democracy, Athens was ruled by wealthy aristocrats. Political scientist Cynthia Farrar writes in that "The beginnings of Athenian self-rule [i.e. democracy] coincided with Solon's liberation in the 6th century B.C. of those who had been 'enslaved' to the rich." Enslaved to the rich! Athens, the ancestral society whence we trace our democratic lineage as Americans, developed that early democratic structure in order to defend the People from being

! It was a weapon against the abuses of wealth; a fact that today is being thoroughly distorted; where capitalism, a system that emphasizes private concentration of wealth and which posits an ideology that justifies a wealth-accumulating politic, is thought of as synonymous with democracy.

Class struggle is the crucible which forged democracy. Democracy is most purely expressed in popular revolution. The most powerful popular revolution in history is the Russian revolution of 1917, and the emblem of that revolution is the hammer and sickle. The hammer and sickle is closely related to Marxism, a doctrine of class struggle.

To return to the opening point, the demonization of that symbol is immensely useful in the hegemonic battle over the legitimacy or de-marginalization of the Left. Due to a number of factors, the Left is no longer marginal in the United States. That is not to say the Left is portrayed positively in most media, but it is recognized and it is covered. We ought to recognize this battlefield and seize the imagery of our heritage as Leftists.

Here We Go Again: Socialists, Democrats, and the Future of the Left

By Charles Wofford

In his article "Want to Elect Socialists? Run Them in Democratic Primaries," Daniel Moraff, a self-described democratic socialist, demonstrates a thoroughly liberal and pedestrian understanding of how social change occurs. There are several errors of history and of reasoning in the article which I hope to illustrate here.

Our problems begin in the first paragraph, where Moraff conflates "winning elections" and "building power." As a socialist, one would think Moraff would understand that power is in the People, in the mass movements and organization that takes place in communities by and for community members. The People provide the labor and do the dirty work upon which the political class maintains its privilege. If the People get angry and decide in sufficient number not to participate in the system anymore, then the basis of political privilege will teeter and possibly collapse, and those in power would generally rather give up what's been demanded of them rather than lose their power entirely.

In the second section Moraff references Kim Moody's article in Jacobin magazine titled, "From Realignment to Reinforcement." Moraff writes, "One cannot argue with Moody's contention that those currently in control of the party are rich, powerful and odious. They are also, as Moody points out, firmly determined to repel left challenges within the party. These same interests poured millions into the Hillary Clinton campaign, and pour millions more into incumbency protection every cycle." Moraff misses however the part where Moody says, "The party structure and establishment has been fortified against its rivals, external and internal." Moody is correct; the party structure has been fortified against its rivals. Moraff falls into an individualist fallacy when he argues that it is simply about "odious" people, as though we can simply replace the people and the whole system will work. A socialist ought to know better.

If it were merely about corrupt people, then we wouldn't need to be anti-capitalist at all. All we would need is to make sure "progressives" got into political an corporate offices. Then we could have total, unfettered capitalism, and because those with power aren't "odious," we wouldn't need to worry about exploitation, environmental destruction, war, etc.

Some basic Marxist philosophy can help to clarify the point. In "The German Ideology," Marx writes, "The way in which men produce their means of subsistence depends first of all on the nature of the actual means they find in existence and have to reproduce...the nature of individuals thus depends on the material conditions determining their production." In other words, people are born into their circumstances, not the other way around. The structures in which people live and work have greater influence on who they are as individuals than vice versa. So we cannot simply pin the problems of the Democratic Party on the "odiousness" of its leaders. Just as we condemn capitalism as a system, so must we recognize the Democratic party is part of that system which must be condemned.

Moraff asks throughout his article what alternatives there can be to running socialists as democrats. If you assume that winning elections is the same as building power (or the only way to do so) then it's hard to see an answer. But here are a few examples of progressive change in recent American history that I think illustrate the distinction between being in office and having power.

The first is the signing of the 1965 Civil Rights Act by President Lyndon Johnson. President Johnson did not sign that bill into law because he was a benevolent philanthropist and really felt for the struggle of colored folk. Remember, this was the president who escalated the Vietnam War into the hideous conflict it became. Descriptions of him by those who knew him and extant audio recordings show Johnson to be possibly the most arrogant president in American history. Yet he signed the Civil Rights Act into law. Why?

Because one of the main functions of the president is to preserve the nation. And as the demonstrations, boycotts, riots, strikes, and other forms of disobedience and popular organization and resistance began to take their toll on society, the power-that-were recognized the precariousness of the situation. The bottom was coming for the top, and the top had to do something. And, as stated above, those in power would sooner give up a little bit of their power than lose all of it. So in the end Johnson, as a representative of the power-that-were, was compelled to sign that act into law by virtue of the mass popular pressure applied to him.

A second example is Richard Nixon ending the Vietnam War. Anyone who thinks that Nixon was some peace-loving progressive has never opened a history book: Nixon's name is practically synonymous with the warmongering arch-conservative. Yet he ended the Vietnam War. Why?

Exactly the same reasons as above: the resistance at home, and the resistance of the military in Vietnam which was starting to collapse. Nixon, despite his personal wishes, was compelled to end the war because of the popular pressures placed on his administration and his duty-as defined by the structure of the institution-to preserve the nation.

Those are two recent examples, but that is how social change always happens. If we continue to divert our energies into the black hole that is the Democratic Party, then socialism will never come. You cannot elect socialism: it can only come about through a revolution that will overturn the legal fiction of private property, the protection of which the U.S. government is constitutionally predicated.

The lesson is this: We need not look to the powerful; we need only remember who the powerful truly are.

The Democratic Socialists of America seems to serve two functions: one is to be a kind of transition group for those who are gradually disconnecting from liberal ideology. The other is to act as a net to catch those who might otherwise go to actual radical organizations. There are DSAers who support democrats, and there are radicals in the DSA too. But sooner or later the DSA as an organization is going to have to choose which side it is on: the capitalists, or the revolutionaries.