derek r. ford

Decolonisation Isn't Pretty Or Complicated: When Violence Is Humanising

By Derek Ford


The first pro-Palestine demonstration called after the latest counterattack by a host of Palestinian forces on October 7, endorsed by Students for Justice in Palestine, the ANSWER Coalition and others, put matters very plainly:

Today, we witness a historic win for the Palestinian resistance: across land, air, and sea, our people have broken down the artificial barriers of the Zionist entity, taking with it the facade of an impenetrable settler colony and reminding each of us that total return and liberation to Palestine is near. Catching the enemy completely by surprise, the Palestinian resistance has captured over a dozen settlements surrounding Gaza, along with many occupation soldiers and military vehicles. This is what it means to Free Palestine: not just slogans and rallies but armed confrontation with the oppressors.

Of course, the colonisers do not want to hear such realities and hypocritically condemn them as ‘violent’ and ‘terrorist.’ In Indianapolis, we had to keep our coalition together in the face of the fear-mongering by both Democrat and Republican politicians. Unfortunately, many on the academic ‘left’ – already predisposed to conciliatory readjustments – continue echoing the same talking points as the State Department.

Henry Giroux, for example, contends that ‘The reach of violence and death in Israel by Hamas is shocking in its depravity and has been well-publicised in the mainstream media and in other cultural apparatuses.’ For a ‘critical’ scholar, it should instinctively raise questions when one finds truth in the pro-Zionist media and cultural outlets and remains merely satisfied with noting the ‘one-sidedness’ of such coverage. Giroux goes further still, calling us to do more than ‘exclusively condemn Hamas’s atrocious violence as a violation of human rights’ and to hold Israel’s apparently asymmetrical violence to equal condemnation. ‘Refusing to hold all sides in this war to the standards of international law is a violation of human dignity, justice and democratic principles,’ Giroux proclaims.


Palestinian resistance: Armed love

I recommend revisiting Paulo Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed, where he unequivocally denounces such false equivalences. ‘Never in history,’ he writes, ‘has violence been initiated by the oppressed. How could they be the initiators if they themselves are the result of violence?’ It is rather the oppressors who trigger violence and ‘not the helpless, subject to terror, who initiate terror.’ Furthermore, the counter-insurgency of the oppressed, the ‘violence’ or ‘terror’ they wield, is in reality ‘a gesture of love.’

For Giroux, however, Hamas’s heroic attack on October 7 is ‘brutal and heinous’ and ‘horrific.’ To be fair, he acknowledges that Israeli Occupation Forces have murdered more children than ‘Hamas.’ Yet he swiftly returns to the equation, arguing that both Israel and Hama are united by ‘the violence done against children,’ which is apparently ‘used simply as a prop to legitimate and continue the war and the ongoing death and suffering of children, women, and civilians.’

Simultaneously, in the article titled ‘Killing Children: The Burdens of Conscience and the Israel-Hamas War,’ Giroux commands us not to equate Hamas with Palestine. Fair enough; no single entity represents an entire people. Yet Hamas is one of many resistance forces operating under a united front, along with the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, the Popular Resistance Committees, the Al-Quds Brigades and countless others. This is beside the point: those of us in the US have absolutely no business telling the colonised how to resist colonisation, nor what armed groups should resist and on what grounds!

One wonders what such academics would have written about Nat Turner’s historic 1831 rebellion in Virginia. In August of that year, Turner led a group of six slaves to freedom. They killed their slaver, Joseph Travis and his family before traversing plantations to free more enslaved Africans by force. Along the way, ‘free’ Blacks joined their army of about 70 people.

They took money, supplies and weapons as they moved and eliminated over 55 white slave owners and their families. Their violence was not altogether indiscriminate, and, in fact, Turner ordered his troops to leave the homes of poor white people alone. Still, they killed children in their march towards freedom.

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Should we remember this remarkable uprising as a tragedy to be condemned, albeit less so than the violence of the slavers? No! We celebrate Turner’s rebellion as we do all revolts of the oppressed worldwide throughout history!

Their violence was humanising, a necessary measure to prevent them from enslaving others and part of a long tradition of insurrection that ultimately overthrew chattel slavery in the US.


No demonisation of the oppressed

After an amazingly long chase, once the slavers found and killed Turner, the white supremacist papers condemned him and his motley crew for their barbaric violence. How would you respond? ‘Yes, it was terrible, but slavery is worse?’

Things are different today. All imperialist wars are for ‘democracy’ and ‘human rights.’ So it was with Iraq, Afghanistan, Iraq again, Libya, Syria, you name it. In each instance, the propaganda is quickly absorbed by our critical intellectuals. I remember Noam Chomsky endorsing UN Resolution 1973, put forward by the ‘saviours’ of humanity like Italy and the United States on March 17, 2011, imposing a ‘No-Fly Zone’ over Libya. Of course, this only applied to the Libyan air force, not to the US and its NATO allies.

There was relentless propaganda about an ‘impending massacre’ in Benghazi when, in reality, the small armed uprising was on the verge of defeat by the massively popular (and, it goes without saying, flawed) Jamahiriya government of Moammar Gaddafi. It turns out there was no impending massacre, nor was there any validity to the accusations of ‘mass rape.’

The same is true of October 7, 2023. As it turns out, the Israelis massacred their own people. The air force admitted one commander ‘instructed the other fighters in the air to shoot at everything they see in the area of the fence, and at a certain point also attacked an IDF station with trapped soldiers in order to help the fighters of Navy commando unit 13 attack it and liberate it.’ Yasmin Porat confirmed the Israeli army massacred civilians after the courageous Hamas counterattack and, moreover, said Palestinian resistance forces who ‘kidnapped’ her did not treat her inhumanely and did not intend to murder her.

For those with a cursory knowledge of the ongoing ethnic cleansing of Palestine, this is not surprising.


No purity in the fight against oppression

Let’s imagine that the lies told by the State Department and distributed by their stenographers in the media were all true. Even then, why would anyone in the US or any imperialist nation that is currently sponsoring the Israeli genocide feel any need to ‘condemn’ or even denounce the heroism of those fighting back?

The answer is simple: standing up to the demonisation campaign is difficult, especially early on. Yet how many have heard the endless outrageous lies used to dehumanise primarily Black and Brown heads of state, governments, militaries, and populations? The real question is: how many of us have heard the retractions? How many of us have questioned our national chauvinism and privilege? Why would anyone entertain the notion that Hamas wants Israel to continue bombing its people and infrastructure?

It goes without saying that I don’t share a political allegiance to Hamas, and neither do the myriad forces uniting with them to defend their people – and the people of the region and world – from the genocidal apartheid regime of Israel!

Moral purity is an idealism only those cloistered in their academic offices can afford. Still, it’s a waste of money. I guess, at the very least, it shows us what critical academics are willing to criticise the oppressors and not the oppressed. Me? I’m unequivocally and proudly on the side of the oppressed.

Capitalist Contradictions and Revolutionary Struggle: An Introduction

By Derek Ford


Republished from Liberation School.


Hearing or reading about the “contradictions of capitalism” in an article or at a rally might be intimidating, like a foreign language or a term only a certain group can understand. While the contradictions of capitalism are complicated, working and oppressed people can easily understand them for the simple reason that we all live with and negotiate any number of contradictions every day. The contradictions we deal with that are the most confining, that most constrain our capacities and that keep us oppressed are specifically the contradictions of capitalism.

On any given day, we find abundant evidence that makes it clear that the capitalist system doesn’t work in practice. Examining the contradictions of capitalism and demonstrating how they are inherent in the system, proves that capitalism doesn’t even work in theory. Understanding capitalist contradictions heightens our agitation and accelerates political consciousness by cutting through capitalist ideology and the various excuses of capitalists, politicians, and their media. Knowing capitalist contradictions better informs our tactics and strategies in any given struggle and serves as a bridge to socialist reconstruction in the U.S.

This series examines some of the primary contradictions of capitalism, including those between use and exchange values, private ownership and social production, and the interests of individual capitalists and capital as a whole. Each entry will break the contradictions down in an accessible manner, explaining some of their more intricate details, and showing how they relate to other contradictions. We provide some general and concrete examples of how they enhance our understanding of capitalism and our struggle to overthrow that system and replace it with a new one. The reason Marx dedicated so much time to studying and analyzing capital was not because it was “interesting” but because its contradictions were and are opportunities for working and oppressed people to advance and create the world the Earth and its inhabitants need and deserve.


The general and specific contradictions we navigate

Our personal lives are riddled with any number of contradictions—or tensions—that we have to deal with daily. The term “guilty pleasure,” for example, names the contradictory situations we face when we are both attracted to and repelled by the same thing at the same time. Our guilty pleasure might be a “reality” show, for example, or a certain genre of books, or any other activity we engage in that brings us both positive and negative feelings.

Many of us despise social media yet still pick up our phones or check our computers throughout the day to use various social media apps. We also deal with the contradictions of our basic life processes like going to sleep. If we stay up late—to catch the end of a sporting event or spend extra time with our friends—while fully knowing we will have to wake up at the same early hour, we’re wrestling with a contradiction. Whenever we have negative and positive feelings at the same time about the same thing (a show), relation (social media), or process (sleeping), we’re dealing with a contradiction.

We’re also familiar with political contradictions. How many of us and the people we know have zero faith in the ruling-class parties but still vote for them? How many of us live in communities that regularly experience the brunt of racist police violence but, at the same time, see the police as a kind of “necessary evil” to combat the regular violence in our neighborhoods, and even might support campaigns for more police or surveillance cameras?

We experience economic contradictions as well, like the tension between doing the quality of work we can be proud of and the quality of work we are paid to perform. As a teacher, I constantly grapple with this contradiction. I truly want to set up the best possible class to educate students in a way they deserve, which requires spending the time necessary to get to know each student, to find the right content to teach, and do so by crafting a plan for each unique class. To do this, however, means I have to work beyond my contract hours.

Even when we’re thrown out of a job, we search out new work for a paycheck to survive even though we know that paycheck will barely let us survive long enough to show up to work to collect the next one.


Philosophy and our understanding of contradictions

Not all contradictions are the result of capitalism. The oldest religious traditions and cultural customs, for example, provide guidance on dealing with contradictions, like those between love and hate or living and dying. Marx didn’t “discover” contradictions, but he and Engels, built on and critiqued theories of capitalism available at the time. By doing so, Marx and Engels found that, while the best political economists often asked the right questions (like what is the source of profit), they couldn’t answer them because they didn’t grasp the historical specificity of capitalism as a contradictory system. They showed that capitalist contradictions are not inevitable or permanent, only that they are unsolvable within the capitalist system. Similarly, neither Marx nor Engels envisioned socialism or communism as a utopian place free of any tensions or contradictions. The socialist struggle doesn’t aim to solve all contradictions, only those that are intrinsic to the capitalist system and that produce the widespread suffering of the world’s majority.

We all have experience with contradictions, yet how we understand them—and therefore how and if we respond to them—depends on our philosophy, which refers generally to “our world outlook.” Just as we have experiences with various contradictions, we have our own philosophical outlooks, even if we aren’t aware of it or familiar with philosophical language. Philosophies are grounded in material reality, which means “that the various systems of the philosophers also always express a class outlook” [1]. The ruling class is the group that controls not only “the means of material production” but also “the means of mental production,” we’re all raised with their world outlook.

The capitalist philosophy we’re taught maintains that the world is made up of independent and fixed entities. Here, contradictions are the same as paradoxes, like the riddle of what came first, the chicken or the egg? This is only a paradox if we think about both as separate things, but there cannot be one without the other. Marxist philosophy explains that the world is made up of interrelated matter that is always in motion. The chicken and the egg are not independent or fixed but interrelated and always in motion. The reason there is no answer to the riddle is because it asks the wrong question [2].

Consider the common refrain that contemporary injustices like war or poverty are merely the result of “human nature.” Under this conception, humans have a nature that is independent of the world and any given social conditions. Humans have always been independent, competitive, self-seeking, etc. Capitalist philosophy thus explains the “failure” of alternative social systems by claiming they are simply “against human nature.” Human nature is presented as a thing, a static object remaining the same regardless of time, space, or society; this lets capitalism off the hook.

Many of us are taught to think that “humans” and “nature” are independent entities and there was once a pure “natural world.” Marx and Engels, addressing one of their contemporaries who adhered to this view, held that even if there was a “nature that preceded human history…. It is nature which today no longer exists anywhere” [3]. We’re taught that capitalism is natural and the way it structures society is nothing but “human nature;” that we are naturally independent of each other, competitive, and out for our own interests; that we are individuals isolated from each other first before we enter into relations with others. It’s always been this way, the myth goes: we’re all free individuals who choose to be either lazy or hard-working, wasteful or frugal, make bad or positive life choices, or choose the “right” or “wrong” crowd to hang out with. That explains why some of us end up rich and the rest end up as workers, how some workers end up in apartments and houses and others end up homeless, employed or unemployed, etc.

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Two worldviews in action: Education, testing, and the myth of meritocracy

In education, this myth takes the form of “meritocracy,” where the results of our test scores indicate how capable or incapable we are as individuals, how much time and effort we spent studying, etc… This assumes however, that standardized tests are “objective,” an assumption that, as educational theorist Wayne Au shows, allows the tests to be “used to compare students, teachers, and schools, and then make high-stakes decisions about being granted access to resources or subjected to punishment” [4]. These tests are far from value-neutral or objective because, in reality, test scores and educational outcomes are ultimately related to one’s zip code. Moreover, they are historically rooted in eugenics and racism.

In the U.S., IQ (or “Intelligence Quotient”) tests were based on the idea that one’s “intelligence” was static and based on their individual biology and heritage. IQ tests are still “used to sort and rank different people by race, ethnicity, gender, and class according to supposedly inborn, innate intelligence” [5]. The assumptions determine the results. If the language of the test is a certain kind of English, students from communities that speak a different kind of English or another language, like Spanish, will have less access to the questions. Regardless of the bias built into the test, however, those who can afford private tutors and do not have to work in the house or at a job, for example, are likely to perform better than those who can’t afford tutors and have to work to provide for their families, whether it be at a job or cooking dinner for their siblings while their parents are working three jobs.

If we understand the historical specificity of standardized tests, then, we understand they do not measure our “natural” or “individual” intelligence but our class standing. We then see that educational and economic success is not the product of an individual’s choices but rather the system that determines the choices available to us and our ability to access those choices. It disproves that we are “individuals” with our individual intelligence and shows that the very notion of “intelligence” is socially constructed under capitalism in a way that justifies capitalism’s inequalities as “human nature.” Individualism, as Marx showed in his critique of bourgeois political economists, was the product of “civil society” during a specific time and place that “appears as an ideal, whose existence [the bourgeois philosophers] project into the past” [6]. In other words, “intelligence” isn’t a static or independent thing but a process interrelated to social practices, including white supremacy, capitalism, racism, ableism, and other forms of oppression, as well as struggles against standardized testing.


Capitalism as an inherently contradictory process

When an economic crisis grips U.S. society, capitalists blame it on some external cause. They debate whether it is the individual characteristics of a president, a Federal Reserve policy or decision, “state intervention” or lack of legislative oversight. In some cases, they unite and blame it on another country.

Marx demonstrated that capitalist crises are the inevitable result of capital’s internal contradictions and, more fundamentally, that capitalism is defined by its contradictions. Capital is value in expanding motion, meaning that capitalism as a system is defined by the accumulation of more and more value.

The process of capital is, at heart, contradictory for at least two reasons. First, the value of any commodity is the social average of the time necessary for its production. Because capitalists compete with other capitalists for a limited market, they are forced to reduce their individual production time to remain competitive, yet eventually, this lowers the overall social production time and, hence, their ability to accumulate value. Second, surplus value for the capitalist is equivalent to the additional unpaid value produced by labor-power. Because capitalists must invest at least some of their surplus value back to expand their own productive capacity to accumulate more value, there is a constant disproportionality between the value produced and the value realized (or sold) [7].

As Marx puts it, “the ultimate reason for all real crises always remains the poverty and restricted consumption of the masses as opposed to the drive of capitalist production to develop the productive forces as though only the absolute consuming power of society constituted their limit” [8]. What he means is that the “absolute law of value” that drives the accumulation of capital expands both the wealth of the capitalists and the poverty of the masses. Even if our wages equal the value of our labor-power, it is impossible for our class to buy the total value we produce.


Capitalism can only move crises around and to higher levels

Contradictions push and pull us between the opposite ends of the same thing or process. Generally, most of these contradictions bubble below the surface. Every few years, however, they boil over into a crisis. To survive, capitalism must continually try to “solve” its contradictions, but can only shift them to different places, delay them, and raise their intensity.

For example, one way capital tries to “solve” the contradiction of surplus value is by extending credit to workers. With credit, we can purchase more commodities than our wages allow. At some point, of course, the debt must be paid. This increases the extent of the contradiction because credit comes with additional costs for us, which ultimately reduces our capacity to purchase goods or pay for the goods we already “bought” on credit.

Another example is how capital tries to “solve” the contradiction between its need to expand and the geographical limitations of the globe. Colonialism and imperialism provide capital with additional outlets to sell their commodities and provide capital with cheaper (often stolen) raw materials and labor-power. Imperialism resulted mainly from this contradiction because, once the capitalists had colonized the world, they could only gain access to extra markets by redividing “their” colonized territories through war. This explains why Lenin’s analysis of imperialism provided the real rationale for World War I [9].


The role of capitalist contradictions in building a revolutionary movement and society

As an inherently contradictory system, as capital grows its own power it, at. the same time, creates and increases its opposing power: the poor and working classes. In this series, we’ll explore some of the most pertinent contradictions of capitalism so that we can seize on them and finally resolve them through socialism.

Contradictions do not unfold in any predetermined manner nor is there any single one that is the most important for all time. Yet a foundational contradiction that is always helpful in raising class consciousness and clarifying the real source of many struggles is the contradiction between use value and exchange value. Under capitalism, all commodities are contradictory unities of both forms of value and capitalists only care about the exchange value of the commodities we produce for them The rest of us, however, buy commodities for their use value.

We rent apartments or take out loans for houses because we need to use them. Capitalists, however, only organize the production of houses for exchange value, or the profit they can make from them. Because capitalists compete for as much exchange value as possible, they end up producing another contradiction examined in the third entry: the absurd crisis of overproduction.

Whenever we struggle to make or keep something as a public good—whether it be education, our libraries, healthcare, water, or utilities—while the capitalists try to privatize it, we’re taking a side in the contradiction between use value and exchange value. We’re saying: “This is important to keep public because society uses and needs it, not because a small group of capitalists can privatize it and profit from it.”

This clarifies that the interests of the masses are directly opposed to the interests of the capitalists and imperialists. When our elected (or unelected) officials still sell them off to corporations despite our protests, it shows our class whose interests the state represents. It further reveals that capitalism doesn’t care about what we need or want to survive, and that they don’t see us as anything other than exploitable and expendable sources of value. Additionally, it helps unite our historically divided class around our common interests, as access to basic public necessities impacts all working and poor people.

On our path toward building a revolutionary movement and society, understanding the contradictions of capitalism helps us accurately identify the cause of the crisis, show the class struggle in action, unite the broad masses, and reveal our common interests and, in general, provides us with the knowledge necessary for our political, tactical, and strategic decisions. The contradictory developments in any society are numerous and it is important to look for the contradictions that will most likely cause intense social conflicts, determining where to put our time and energy, who to reach out to and build connections with, and more.

In this series, we’ll examine multiple fundamental contradictions of capitalism. After examining the contradiction between use value and exchange value in greater detail, we’ll see how that in turn contributes to the absurd crisis of overproduction in the next entry. The series will address other contradictions as well, including the contradiction between technology and living labor, constant capital and fixed capital, and the production and realization of capital. For each, we’ll discuss how we can use them to advance the struggles we’re engaged in daily, promote socialist consciousness, and spread the fact that another world and system is possible and absolutely necessary. That way, we can have enough numbers on our side to seize a revolutionary opportunity: when capitalism’s contradictions pile up high enough that “the ‘lower classes’ do not want to live in the old way and the ‘upper classes’ cannot carry on in the old way” [10].


References

[1] Maurice Cornforth,Materialism and the Dialectical Method(New York: International Publishers, 1953/1971), 7, 8.
[2] For more on this see Curry Malott, “What is Dialectical Materialism? An Introduction,”Liberation School, 04 April 2020. Availablehere.
[3] Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, The German Ideology: Part One, with Selections from Parts Two and Three and Supplementary Texts, trans. C.J. Arthur (New York: International Publishers, 1970), 63; see also Sohrob Aslamy, “Marxism, Capitalism, and Nature-Society Relations: An Introduction,”Liberation School, 12 October 2021. Availablehere.
[4] Wayne Au,Unequal by Design: High Stakes Testing and the Standardization of Inequality, 2nd. ed. (New York: Routledge, 2023), 98.
[5] Ibid., 49.
[6] Karl Marx,Grundrisse: Foundations of the Critique of Political Economy (Rough Draft), trans. M. Nicolaus (New York: Penguin Books, 1939/1993), 38.
[7] For an explanation of the first reason, see Mazda Majidi, “Relative Surplus Value: The Class Struggle Intensifies,”Liberation School, 18 August 2021. Availablehere; for an explanation of the second reason, see Derek Ford and Mazda Majidi, “Surplus Value is the Class Struggle,”Liberation School, 30 March 2021. Availablehere.
[8]. Karl Marx,Capital: A Critique of Political Economy (Vol. 3): The Process of Capitalist Production as a Whole, ed. F. Engels (New York: International Publishers, 1894/1967), 484.
[9] V.I. Lenin, “Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism: A Popular Outline,” inLenin: Selected Works: Two Volume Edition (Vol. 1)(Moscow: Progress Publishers, 1916/1963), 634-731. Availablehere. See also Brian Becker, “From Inter-Imperialist War to Global Class War: Understanding Distinct Stages of Imperialism,”Liberation School, 20 July 2018. Availablehere.
[10] V.I. Lenin, “‘Left-Wing’ Communism: An Infantile Disorder,” inV.I. Lenin Collected Works (Vol. 31): April-December 1920, trans. J. Katzer (Moscow: Progress Publishers, 1920/1966). 85.

Educators Must Help Defeat the New Racist and Imperialist 'Red Scare'

By Derek R. Ford

Originally published on PESA Agora

Introduction: Racism and imperialism unite ‘both sides of the aisle’

Responding to criticism of the political system of the newly-independent Tanzania, the great African teacher, revolutionary, and theorist Julius Nyerere responded, observing ‘the United States is also a one-party state, but with typical American extravagance, they have two of them.’ He was and is right. Rhetorical differences and popular presentation aside, the two ruling-class parties effectively function as a dictatorship domestically and globally. For concrete and contemporary evidence, look no further than the New McCarthyism and Red Scare promoted by media outlets and politicians on ‘both sides of the aisle,’ from Fox News and Marco Rubio to The New York Times and Chuck Schumer.

On August 5, The New York Times released a report that, in essence, boldly and baselessly suggests groups and other organisations advocating for peace with China are part of an international conspiracy by the Chinese Communist Party (CCP). Despite the absence of any substantive proof, politicians are already using it as ammunition in their broader ‘new McCarthyism’ agenda, which could potentially have devastating consequences for the globe. Fortunately, a variety of institutions and networks are already mobilising against it by building a fight-back movement in which education plays a key role, and you can too.

Their presentation opens with the racist logic guiding their investigation as they try to discredit the multitude of spontaneous global actions against anti-Asian racism in 2021. They narrate a single action in London where a scuffle broke out, they contend, after activists with No Cold War (one of the event’s organisers) ‘attacked activists supporting the democracy movement in Hong Kong.’ They offer only two words to back up this narrative: ‘witnesses said.’

No Cold War is dedicated to promoting peaceful relations between the US and China, organising in-person and virtual events to advance the global peace movement. Having spoken on their panels and attended others, I can confirm they are educational, generative and productive intellectually and politically. They include a range of perspectives, given they are working toward peace. This principle is unacceptable for the Times and the New McCarthyites, however, as the journalists ‘reveal’ that No Cold War is merely ‘part of a lavishly funded influence campaign that defends China and pushes its propaganda.’ So too, it seems, is any group advocating for peace.

The investigators construct an international conspiracy centred on Neville Roy Singham, a millionaire sympathetic to peace and socialism who donates his millions to left-wing non-profits who, in turn, help finance very active and crucial anti-war, anti-racist, and anti-imperialist organisations. This is where the most dangerous suggestion emerges, one upon which pro-war forces quickly seized: that groups receiving funding from Singham could be agents of the Chinese Communist Party and thus in violation of the Foreign Agents Registration Act (FARA).

These suggestions are completely unfounded. The only ‘evidence’ presented are statements made by a handful of former employees and members of some organisations partly funded and supported directly or indirectly by Singham, including the Nkrumah School, the media outlet New Frame, and the Socialist Revolutionary Workers Party in South Africa. Then, of course, there is the fact that Singham supported Hugo Chávez, has relationships with some of the million members of the Chinese Communist Party, is pictured at a CCP meeting (excuse me, ‘propaganda forum’) taking notes in a book ‘adorned with a red hammer and sickle.’ And I almost forgot the nail in the hammer: a plaque of Xi Jinping hanging in Singham’s office.

Fox News and other right-wing outlets and politicians are at the helm of the bandwagon as well. For years they promoted propaganda alleging China is influencing US schools and universities as a method of attacking freedom of inquiry and speech in the US, including in my state of Indiana. In August 2021, Indiana’s Attorney General Todd Rokita (whom most Hoosiers don’t support) threatened to investigate the Confucius Institute at a small college, Valparaiso University, saying it operates ‘to spread propaganda and circulate the mantra of the CCP at both the university and in several K-12 schools in Indiana.’ The University closed the Institute but, importantly, maintained Rokita was lying about its function, which is to promote cross-cultural understanding and dialogue. Unfortunately, almost all such institutes have shuttered.


Old or new, ‘McCarthyism’ is reality, not hyperbole

On August 9, Senator Marco Rubio officially called on the Department of Justice to investigate a range of progressive organisations in the US for violating FARA and acting as unregistered Chinese agents. Rubio’s evidence? The Times ‘investigation.’ Rubio includes but adds to the groups smeared in the Times article. The strategy is to discredit anti-war groups, grassroots movement hubs, and anti-imperialist and anti-racist organisations as CCP operatives, thereby silencing opposition to their foreign policy strategy, part of which includes funding separatist movements in places like Hong Kong. In their opening, the Times journalists neglect to mention that most people in that region of China actually oppose the ‘freedom movement,’ partly because of its political character, exemplified by its leaders such as Joshua Wong, a close collaborator of Rubio, who led the charge to nominate Wong for the Nobel Peace Prize.

Rubio’s letter to the Biden Administration’s Attorney General names nine entities, including the anti-war group Code Pink, the Tricontinental Institute for Social Research, and The People’s Forum, amongst others. This list will likely expand to include numerous others who either didn’t respond to the journalists’ red-baiting or who maintain some connection to the groups identified.

Already serious, it could potentially be devastating. I don’t know a peace or social justice activist, let alone an anti-imperialist or anti-racist revolutionary organisation, with a substantial base, membership, or level of activity, that isn’t somehow related to one of these organisations and networks. The People’s Forum should be of particular concern for educators, as it is the most active and pedagogically innovative popular education institute in the US. Academic journals and publishers work with them to host events and book launches, and a range of professors, including myself, teach classes for them (without getting a paycheck, let alone a ‘lavish’ one, I should add).

There are several continuities between the anti-communist and anti-Black witch-hunts of the 1940s-50s and the new McCarthyism. In both cases, the same ruling-class parties united as outlets like The New York Times recklessly promoted their campaign, slandering heroic Black figures like W.E.B. Du Bois, Langston, Hughes and Paul Robeson. Newspaper headlines alone facilitated this work, such as the 1949 Times headline calling Robeson a ‘Black Stalin’ who “Suffered ‘Delusions of Grandeur.”’ This continued with the Civil Rights Era and was a major factor stalling its militancy and has again resurfaced. They never apologised for their role in spreading such racist propaganda.


Imperialism and white supremacy: More than and predating McCarthy

Labeling this wide historical period and its complex political configurations as ‘McCarthyism’ is useful in speaking popularly, but educators should note it can be misleading. The anti-Black and anti-communist/radical crusade preceded Sen. Joseph McCarthy. Historian Gerald Horne cogently locates the foundations of contemporary racist US capitalism in the imbrication of white supremacy and anti-communism insofar as it

‘is undergirded by the fact that slave property was expropriated without compensation.… [O]ne of the largest uncompensated expropriations before 1917 took place in this nation: African-Americans are living reminders of lost fortunes.’

Similarly, Charisse Burden-Stelly’s concept of modern US racial capitalism specifically designates a ‘political economy constituting war and militarism, imperialist accumulation, expropriation by domination and labour superexploitation.’ Like Horne, the system ‘is rooted in the imbrication of anti-Blackness and antiradicalism.’

History proves their theses correct. For one example, take Benjamin J. Davis, the first Black communist ever elected to public office in the US. He served as a New York City Councilman from 1943 until 1949, when he and other Communist Party leaders were arrested under the Smith Act. In Davis’ set of ‘autobiographical notes’ penned while captive in an apartheid federal prison in Terre Haute, an hour’s drive from where I’m writing, the Black Party leader recounts how, following the end of the US’s alliance with the Soviet Union, ‘the pro-fascist, Negro-hating forces which had been held in check during the war, began to break loose.’ The Republicans, Democrats, FBI, and other state elements sat idly by as racist attacks, including a mass lynching in Atlanta by the Klan, intensified.

Communists, on the other hand, responded immediately, with the Party’s Black leadership uniting and mobilising broad sectors of society. It was only then that the state responded, and not to the racist lynching but to those fighting them. In other words, while the US state passively accepted racist and fascist groups in the US, they turned to active repression when Black people and their supporters and comrades fought back.

The 1949 conviction and imprisonment of Davis and other Party leaders for violating the anti-communist Smith Act was an example of this repression. The US imprisoned and suppressed hundreds of communist leaders and fellow travelers, with countless others driven underground, blacklisted, and deported.

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It was not only their organising that threatened the state; it was also their ideology. Thus, prison administrators prevented the publication of Davis’s book for a decade after he was released. Physically and ideologically repressing communism was part of a project to exterminate the revolutionary, internationalist, and Black Liberation movements and traditions just as a new wave of US imperialist aggression was kicking into high gear.


Decolonisation and anti-colonialist struggle: A matter of survival, not academic fodder

This leads to one other glaring connection between the Red Scare of today and then, one that demonstrates the historical and ideological continuity of racist US imperialism, helps define the current conjuncture, and might convince academics we don’t need new words and more language but action: the US war against the Korean national liberation and socialist struggle.

Seventy years ago, on July 27, the resistance of the Korean masses forced the US to sign an armistice agreement, ceasing the US’s horrendous violence against the peninsula. Despite their military might, new chemical and biological weapons, and bombs that even the Air Force admits inflicted ‘greater damage than German and Japanese cities firebombed during World War II,’ they couldn’t defeat the freedom fighters in the Korean People’s Army (many of whom were from the south).

Before the armistice signing on February 2, Trinidadian-born Black communist Claudia Jones, who at 37 years of age was a high-ranking Party member and leading organiser and theorist, stood before Judge Edward J. Dimrock in a New York courtroom along with a dozen other Party leaders They were all convicted of several charges, including conspiring to overthrow the US government. The pre-sentencing statement is generally used to plea for leniency, but, as a revolutionary communist, Jones saw another opportunity to agitate and raise consciousness.

Jones opened by making it clear it wasn’t meant for the Judge or the state. No, Jones addressed the real power in the world: the global revolutionary movement. ‘If what I say here,’ she began, ‘serves even one whit to further dedicate growing millions of Americans to fight for peace and to repel the fascist drive on free speech and thought in our country, I shall consider my rising to speak worthwhile indeed.’

Overall, this and other trials that persecuted communists and progressives weren’t about specific articles or actions, although, as Denise Lynn notes, in 1947, J. Edgar Hoover directed the FBI to surveil ‘her every speech, radio interview, mention in the Daily Worker, and all of her written work as well as party functions she attended or hosted.’

The prosecution, Jones highlighted, introduced her articles as evidence but did not read them; actually, they could not read them aloud because, in the first place, doing so would affirm ‘that Negro women can think and speak and write!’

Jones then called attention to the second piece of evidence they could not read: her historic speech delivered at an International Women’s Day rally and published in Political Affairs under the title ‘Women in the Struggle for Peace and Security’ in March 1950, the same year the state obtained her deportation order.

In that speech, delivered months before the ‘barbaric’ war against Korea, as she called it, Jones proposed that ‘a fundamental condition for rallying the masses of American women into the peace camp is to free them from the influence of the agents of imperialism’ by linking them with the new phenomenon of a global anti-imperialist women’s movement spanning 80 countries. This would ‘inspire the growing struggles of American women and heighten their consciousness of the need for militant united-front campaigns around the burning demands of the day.’ Thus, the prosecution could not read it aloud because

‘it urges American mothers, Negro women and white, to emulate the peace struggles of their anti-fascist sisters in Latin America, in the new European democracies, in the Soviet Union, in Asia and Africa to end the bestial Korean war … to reject the militarist threat to embroil us in a war with China, so that their children should not suffer the fate of the Korean babies murdered by napalm bombs of B-29s, or the fate of Hiroshima.’

How terrifyingly presciently Jones’s words resonate with us here today, 70 years on. We face ongoing imperialist aggression against the Korean people and their struggle for peace, national liberation, and reunification, the ramping up of US militarism as they prepare for a war against China, and the accompanying ‘Red Scare’ to produce consent, silence dissent and inhibit solidarity efforts.


The US is a … Pacific power?

The US’s ‘Pivot to Asia’ dates at least back to 1898 when they waged a war against and occupied the Philippine Republic, but its current iteration emerged in November 2011, when then-President Barack Obama told the Australian Parliament ‘The United States is a Pacific power, and we are here to stay.’ That month, his Secretary of State, Hillary Clinton, published an article in Foreign Policy (the unofficial organ of the US State Department) articulating the US’s new line, that first and foremost entailed ‘a substantially increased investment – diplomatic, economic, strategic and otherwise – in the Asia-Pacific region.’

We all know what Clinton meant by ‘otherwise,’ as did the Chinese people, government, and governing Party. For some context, recall that this came out one month earlier Clinton erupted in joy during a CBS interview after hearing of African revolutionary Muammar Gaddafi’s brutal assassination by reactionary forces (whose campaign was based on disproven propaganda and racism against migrant workers from the southern part of the continent). ‘We came, we saw, he died,’ she said laughingly after destroying an independent African nation and its widely popular government.

As the US was waging dozens of wars, occupations, covert military operations, and more, China followed the CCP’s line of a ‘peaceful rise.’ They did so as long as they could, and when it was clear the US wasn’t stopping, both China and Russia finally stood up to the US.

Especially since the election of Xi Jinping to the position of General Secretary of the CCP, China has made a sharp shift to the left and now, after decades, finally offers an alternative pole for the world order so the people of the world can finally be freed from the colonial rule of the US through military occupations and other mechanisms like the International Monetary Fund and World Bank. This is why the Belt and Road initiative is critical to formerly colonised states, and why it is falsely labeled ‘colonialist’ by ruling-class figures from Steve Bannon to Clinton.


What would you do then? Do it now! Resisting intimidation is the path to victory

Rubio ended his letter to the DOJ by proclaiming: ‘The CCP is our greatest adversary, and we cannot allow it to abuse our open system to promote its malign influence any longer.’ The threat of war is not rhetoric. The Department of Defence’s new military doctrine is explicitly guided by ‘Great Power Rivalry, a euphemism for an all-out war to recolonise and redivide China.

As US imperialist occupations expand, as they continue conducting military exercises in the South China Sea, China remains remarkably restrained. Can you imagine what the US would do if, say, China sent nuclear-armed submarines to the shores of California, patrolled the Atlantic waters off the coast of New York City, or stationed military bases throughout Mexico and Canada?

It is irrelevant wherever one stands on China, its political system, or any issue or policy. In terms of internationalist solidarity, the least that educators in the imperialist core can do is restrain our government. Even if one of your colleagues supports US imperialism, however, they will hopefully at least stand against attempts to intimidate and silence opposition and free speech. As the petition against the New McCarthyism states:

‘This attack isn’t only on the left but against everyone who exercises their free speech and democratic rights. We must firmly resist this racist, anti-communist witch hunt and remain committed to building an international peace movement. In the face of adversity, we say NO to xenophobic witch hunts and YES to peace.’

Read, sign and, share the petition now. Don’t be intimidated. The heroic freedom fighters we teach and write about, the ones we admire, never gave in despite their extraordinary oppression and unthinkable suffering.

For those of us committed to ending white supremacy, capitalism, imperialism, or at the very least, to protecting the freedom of speech and dissent, one small thing to do now is to talk with everyone about it, to sign this petition and affirm that you won’t be silenced or intimidated. Let’s follow the words and deeds of Jones, not Marco Rubio.

Our enemies aren’t in Russia or China, North Korea or Cuba. They are right here in the US, from the Pentagon and Wall Street to the cops who routinely murder and harass the exploited and oppressed. What the police do here, the US military does across the globe. Together, we can defeat them.



Full Citation Information:


Ford, D. R. (2023). Educators must help defeat the new racist and imperialist ‘Red Scare.’ PESA Agora. https://pesaagora.com/columns/educators-must-help-defeat-the-new-racist-and-imperialist-red-scare/

The “Powell Memo” and the Supreme Court: A Counteroffensive Against the Many

By Derek Ford

Republished from Liberation School.

Introduction: The domestic right-wing counteroffensive

By the early 1970s, the global revolutionary tide of socialist and national liberation struggles was at its apex, and the tide was washing over the U.S., with expanding and increasingly militant social movements and political organizations. The beginning of “neoliberalism” was a domestic aspect of the coming global counterrevolution, which devastated the world for decades.

This article tells the story of how the right wing of the capitalist class came to drive a new set of reactionary Supreme Court rulings, government policies, and ideological battles against democracy and the basic democratic rights our class won and that the right wing soon started rolling back. A key figure in this anti-democratic turn was Lewis F. Powell Jr., a tobacco company executive turned Supreme Court Justice. In the transition between the two roles, he wrote his infamous “Powell Memo.”

In hindsight, the private memorandum Lewis F. Powell Jr. sent to the U.S. Chamber of Commerce on August 23, 1971—known as the “Powell Memo”—in many ways represents the inaugural moment in this counteroffensive. Titled, “Attack on American Free Enterprise System,” the Memo clearly expressed the sharpness of the class struggle at that time and encapsulated the capitalist class’ fear that they were losing the battles of ideas and the world. It undoubtedly laid the groundwork for some key components of U.S. imperialism’s new offensive against the global revolutionary upsurge that characterized the immediate post-World War II environment, an offensive that is still with us today.

Understanding the background, context, and content of the Memo helps us get a sense of the right-wing counteroffensive against domestic people’s movements. Powell eventually entered the Supreme Court and helped usher in a wave of reactionary rulings against the people and for corporate profits. Thus, while the exact impacts of the Memo are hard to ascertain, they eventually made their way into the law books, attacking affirmative action and establishing a theory of corporate speech and “personhood.” More immediately, after the Memo’s circulation, the Chamber of Commerce “expanded its base from around 60,000 firms in 1972 to over a quarter of a million ten years later,” spending almost $1 billion annually to promote their interests [1].

The ideological stakes at play in the Powell Memo

Powell wrote and sent the confidential memo at the request of one of his colleagues, Eugene B. Sydnor, Jr., who chaired the education committee of the U.S. Chamber of Commerce, for a high-level discussion with the Chamber’s Vice President Arch Booth the next day. The Chamber of Commerce is not, as the name might imply, a government agency, but is the largest private pro-business lobbying group in the country. Because the Memo was written for the capitalist class by one of their most fervent ideologues, it displays the fears and ambitions of the imperialists in the most blatant manner, revealing exactly how they speak to each other when they don’t have to feign decorum or decency, providing a glimpse into how much they feared progressive movements.

“No thoughtful person can question that the American economic system is under broad attack,” the Memo begins [2]. The problem is not so much with the usual suspects like “the Communists, New Leftists and other revolutionaries who would destroy the entire system, both political and economic.” Although such “extremists of the left” are growing in numbers, support, and legitimacy in unprecedented fashion, Powell continues, they are still relatively minor players on their own.

Powell’s primary fear was that revolutionaries, the usual suspects, were now influencing “perfectly respectable elements of society” such as “the college campus, the pulpit, the media, the intellectual and literary journals, the arts and sciences, and from politicians.” In essence, Powell expresses how the global tide of revolutionary and progressive struggles sweeping the world during that period were normalizing and popularizing radical political change and demands [3]. As he puts it, the issue is that respectable institutions like the campus were hijacked “by minorities” who “are the most articulate, the most vocal, the most prolific in their writing and speaking.”

Powell’s insistence on the influence of vocal minorities—a prelude of sorts to the “silent majority”—was more than just a rhetorical flourish. Although the “Marxist doctrine that the ‘capitalist’ countries are controlled by big business” had widespread currency at the time, for Powell, nothing could be further from the truth. Simply put, Powell’s memo claimed that in capitalist countries capitalists had no influence or control over the government or society. This ridiculous claim is phrased frankly:

“…as every business executive knows, few elements of American society today have as little influence in government as the American businessman, the corporation, or even the millions of corporate stockholders. If one doubts this, let him undertake the role of ‘lobbyist’ for the business point of view before Congressional committees. The same situation obtains in the legislative halls of most states and major cities.”

Powell goes further still, in a sentence that constructs the corporation not only as a person, but as a minority person in need of protection: “One does not exaggerate to say that, in terms of political influence with respect to the course of legislation and government action, the American business executive is truly the ‘forgotten man.’”

This dire situation, in which the very existence of capitalism and imperialism are at stake—claims that are, to say the least, exaggerated—calls for drastic and wide-ranging responses. To address the supposed exclusion of corporations in the U.S. government and the attack on the capitalist system, Powell included a vast list of recommendations for pursuing their ideological agenda, in which the Chamber of Commerce would play a central and organizing role. Powell’s upbringing and professional career account for his deep concern for the position of the corporation in U.S. society and politics.

Powell: A fighter for “oppressed” tobacco companies

With a family lineage traced back to “one of the original Jamestown settlers,” Powell graduated from an elite prep school, McGuire’s University School in Richmond, Virginia in 1925 [4]. From there, he ascended the ranks of the political elite, earning a Master of Laws degree from Harvard Law School in 1932 before returning to Virginia and starting a long career with a Richmond law firm. After a brief stint as an intelligence officer in the Army, Powell integrated himself into Virginia’s political scene and rose through the ranks of the American Bar Association, becoming the ABA’s president in 1965.

Powell served on over a dozen boards, including the Colonial Williamsburg Museum and, most pertinently, the tobacco giant Philip Morris. Powell joined Philip Morris’ Board of Directors in 1964 at a time when, historian Jeffrey Clements notes, “the corporation sought to mitigate the US Surgeon General’s report about the grave dangers of smoking” [5].

When he penned his infamous memo, Powell was in the trenches defending Philip Morris and other tobacco corporations through their lobbying group, the now-discredited Tobacco Institute. He was also busy defending big tobacco when Richard Nixon asked him to serve on the Supreme Court in 1971 (although his appointment went into effect in 1972).

During his tenure at the Tobacco Institute, he fought against the “radicals” and liberals in public health and education who were increasingly sounding the alarm on the dangers of tobacco and nicotine addiction. In their 1967 annual report, issued on behalf of Powell and the rest of the Philip Morris board, they deplored how “unfortunately the positive benefits of smoking which are so widely acknowledged are largely ignored by many reports linking cigarettes and health, and little attention is paid to the scientific reports which are favorable to smoking” [6].

Powell was nothing if not a champion of free-enterprise, facts be damned.

The ideological counteroffensive

It’s not hard to draw the line between Powell’s defense of big tobacco and the broader capitalist system, on the one hand, and his derision of public health, education, and the public interest, on the other. For Powell, it was a small and logical step to move from attacking health researchers to attacking other “revolutionaries” and those they influenced in “respectable” places like universities.

In addressing “what can be done about the campus,” Powell outlines an array of tactics and strategies to beat back the insurgent student tide and revert educational institutions away from  critical inquiry. He called for the Chamber of Commerce to establish a cadre of “highly qualified” pro-capitalist scholars, a full-time paid staff of speakers, and a Speaker’s Bureau that would advocate for capitalists.

The Chamber’s “faculty of scholars” should be given “incentives” to publish prolifically in scholarly journals because “one of the keys to the success of the liberal and leftist faculty members has been their passion for ‘publication’ and ‘lecturing.’” Powell wasn’t concerned with the number of leftist faculty per se, and his memo only cited one by name: Herbert Marcuse, one of the few remaining critical theorists who remained committed to organizing and who supervised, among other important revolutionaries (and against the advice of his colleagues), the doctoral work of Angela Davis [7].

Those like Marcuse “need not be in a majority” because “they are stimulating teachers… prolific writers and lecturers,” according to Powell [8]. In fact, “as his attention to charismatic teaching, textbooks, and other writings shows, Powell based his strategy for ideological warfare on the intellectual productivity that he observed among progressive thinkers” [9].

The historical context for Powell’s ire is instructive, as it was during this time that oppressed nationalities were forcing changes in hiring practices, curricular content, and even creating physical spaces dedicated to the study of radical politics and oppressed nationalities and successfully fighting for open admissions.

The militant organized movements of students, workers, Black people, Chicano people, women, the LGBTQ community, and others—many of whom were openly Marxists—forced open some space within universities and society, legitimizing their grievances, proposals, and knowledge [10]. Importantly, the demands of the student movements “were organized around the redistribution of outcomes in the university and in US society generally” [11]. They helped, in part, to fundamentally restructure what and whose knowledge counted by positioning oppressed groups as central knowledge producers.

Unable to captivate audiences with their ideas or teaching, Powell urged the Chamber to ensure capitalist ideologues would gain audiences on campus. He called on the Chamber to “insist upon equal time on the college speaking circuit” between critics and proponents of capitalist exploitation and oppression. Importantly, they must be “attractive, articulate and well-informed speakers” who “exert whatever degree of pressure—publicly and privately” to ensure equal speaking opportunities” [12].

Powell’s focus on “equal speaking opportunities” denies the larger political and historical context of the times, as if socialists and capitalists get equal time and space in the mainstream news outlets or corporate papers. At the same time, within the universities, they’re still mobilized to promote right-wing ideologues. Today, it’s clear to growing numbers of people in the U.S. that “freedom of speech” policies are intended to limit the dissemination of and engagement with revolutionary ideas.

The Supreme Court: Defending white supremacy and corporate speech

Powell’s disdain for revolutionaries wasn’t personal (or wasn’t primarily personal); it was political. Take, for example, his role in the 1978 Supreme Court case Regents of the University of California v. Bakke, a ruling that was a significant step on the way to undoing affirmative action. Although the ruling sustained affirmative action, it declared racial quotas for university admissions to be unconstitutional and, specifically, in violation of the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment.

In his majority opinion, Powell claimed that “the United States had become a Nation of minorities” and the U.S. Constitution was meant “to overcome the prejudices not of a monolithic majority, but of a ‘majority’ composed of various minority groups” [13]. White people were, according to his ruling opinion and his own beliefs, minorities deserving protection [14].

In 1982, he issued the majority opinion in Central Hudson Gas & Electric Corporation v. Public Service Corporation of New York, declaring that private utility and energy corporations could, with the protection of the right-wing activist court, dominate the imaginary “marketplace of ideas.” The case revolved around the prohibition of energy corporations from promoting their services during and after the 1973 oil crisis. Powell’s opinion affirmed that corporate “expression not only serves the economic interest of the speaker, but also assists consumers and furthers the societal interest in the fullest possible dissemination of information.” The opinion “rejected the ‘highly paternalistic’ view that government has complete power to suppress or regulate commercial speech” [15].

With the backing of a new barrage of pro-capitalist think tanks and institutes, Powell led the Supreme Court on a pro-corporate rampage that was based on an illegitimate precedent. As discussed in the Liberation School article on Santa Clara County v. Southern Pacific Railroad Company, the 1886 Supreme Court case has been falsely interpreted as setting the “precedent” for corporate personhood [16]. The case did not rule on the question of corporate personhood. Rather, a statement on corporate personhood was included in a headnote added to the case. Headnotes are not legally binding and therefore do not impact the establishment of legal precedent.

Nevertheless, the same year that Powell led the court to undo affirmative action in the Regents of the University of California, he also established “corporate speech” as protected under the First Amendment. That case, First National Bank of Boston v. Bellotti, for the first time held that corporations are protected by the First Amendment and therefore are entitled to “free speech.” Powell delivered the majority opinion in the case, stating “the Court has not identified a separate source for the right when it has been asserted by corporations.” In the footnote accompanying the statement, he claims that “it has been settled for almost a century that corporations are persons within the meaning of the Fourteenth Amendment,” incorrectly citing Santa Clara as legal precedent [17].

With Powell’s new theory of corporate speech, “the Court struck down law after law in which the states and Congress sought to balance corporate power with the public interest” [18].

Conclusion: The struggle for socialism and liberation today

Powell’s Memo and interventions in the Supreme Court were part of an overall strategy to defeat or at least de-radicalize the revolutionary movements of the time, especially the radical transformations they achieved in education. A central element in the capitalist state, education always plays an important role in the class struggle, as it is a primary place where we form our ideology or worldview, whether we know it or not.

The struggle wasn’t—and isn’t—confined to the university, and in fact, its radical edge comes from its ability to link the university to broader social struggles, from anti-imperialism and socialism to anti-racism and sexism, then and now. As the Powell Memo shows, for the ruling class at the time, the balance of forces tipped too far toward the exploited and oppressed. In response, the capitalists launched a virulent counteroffensive in all areas of society, and Powell, his role on the Supreme Court, and his Memo were integral parts of this reactionary wave we need to, and will, push back.

References

[1] David Harvey,A Brief History of Neoliberalism(New York: Oxford University Press, 2005), 43.
[2] Lewis Powell, “Attack on American Free Enterprise System,”PBS. Availablehere.
[3] See Brian Becker, “From Inter-Imperialist War to Global Class War: Understanding Distinct Stages of Imperialism,”Liberation School, 28 July 2018. Availablehere.
[4] Tinsley E. Yarbrough, “Powell, Lewis F., Jr. (1907-1998), Supreme Court Justice,”American National Biography, 01 January 2001.
[5] Jeffrey D. Clements,Corporations are Not People: Reclaiming Democracy from Big Money and Global Corporations(San Francisco: Berrett-Koehler Publishers, 2014), 21.
[6] Cited in Ibid., 22-23.
[7] Gabriel Rockhill, “Critical and Revolutionary Theory: For the Reinvention of Critique in the Age of Ideological Realignment,” inDomination and Emancipation: Remaking Critique, ed. D. Benson (Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 2021).
[8] Powell, “Attack on American Free Enterprise System.”
[9] Roderick A. Ferguson,We Demand: The University and Student Protests(Oakland: University of California Press, 2017), 44.
[10] See Stephen Ferguson II,Philosophy of African American Studies: Nothing Left of Blackness(New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015), 16.
[11] Ferguson,We Demand, 40.
[12] Powell, “Attack on American Free Enterprise System.”
[13] Regents of the University of California v. Bakke, 438 U.S., 265 (1978), 292. Availablehere.
[14] Ibid., 295.
[15] Central Hudson Gas & Electric Corp. v. Public Service Commission, 447 U.S., 557 (1980), 561, 562. Availablehere.
[16] Curry Malott, “Corporate Personhood, Monopoly Capital, and the Precedent that Wasn’t: The 1886 ‘Santa Clara’ Case,”Liberation School, 09 February 2023. Availablehere.
[17] First National Bank of Boston v. Bellotti, 435 U.S. 765 (1978), footnote 15. Availablehere.
[18] Clements,Corporations are Not People, 25.

The "Manifesto of the Communist Party" 175 Years Later

By Derek Ford

Republished from Peace, Land, and Bread

There’s perhaps no better crystallization of the revolutionary origins of Marxism than the 1848 publication of the Manifesto of the Communist Party (later referred to simply as the Communist Manifesto to please the censors). There’s perhaps no better reason to re-read the text than today, on the 175th anniversary of its publication, on what we now celebrate, thanks to LeftWord Books, as Red Books Day.

The Communist League, a small underground group, tasked Marx and Engels to draft a manifesto that would not only serve as a program of the “party” or political organization but would also potentially intervene in the battles they anticipated coming. As the economic crisis intensified, those clashes did come out into the open, in fact just days after the Manifesto’s publication.

The plan to immediately translate the text into several languages, as indicated in the introduction, went unrealized, and the Manifesto didn’t have an impact on the 1848-49 revolutions (although perhaps it had some influence in Germany). After its initial run in February 1848, it was reprinted a few times by May; but, by then, the initial victories disintegrated. The revolutionary hopes of the bourgeois-democratic struggles were met with fierce counterrevolutionary violence against the workers and the general democratic forces of other exploited classes. Everywhere reaction set in, from France and Prussia (Germany) to Italy and Switzerland, a sequence that pushed developments in communist theory and organizing, affirmed the central tenets of the Manifesto (including the international nature of the class struggle), called for a refined approach to the tactics and strategies of struggle and the national question, and decidedly shifted the center of European revolutionary potential to England. [1]

With the counterrevolution cemented, the League’s leadership suspended its activities, some of which it resumed before officially disbanding in 1852. The text was read by a handful of revolutionaries at the time, most of whom were not in agreement with Marx and Engels, and was written for an even smaller grouping. It wasn’t until the early 1870s that the Manifesto appeared in Europe for widespread distribution. This is partly because of Marx’s prominent role in the First International, beginning in 1864, and his widely acclaimed analysis of the Paris Commune. The main reason, however, was more ironic. The German government put several leaders of the German Social Democratic Party on trial in 1872, and to make their case the prosecution ended up entering the Manifesto into court records. Doing so allowed radical publishers to “evade the censorship laws and embark upon the Manifesto’s republication.” [2] With the Social Democratic Party’s leadership fighting charges of treason, the conditions weren’t favorable to an open call for a communist party to achieve the objectives set out in Marx and Engels’ pamphlet. The new circumstances compelled publishers to change its title to Communist Manifesto. It wasn’t until the Soviet Union’s republication in the early 20th century that the original title came back.

The Manifesto eventually spread across the globe rapidly, from China and Japan to Latin America and the U.S., but only after the specter of communism materialized with the 1917 Bolshevik Revolution. With state power, a dedication to worldwide liberation and socialism, concentration on theoretical study, and general education, among other duties, the Soviets translated it into numerous languages and sold it on the cheap. Since the Bolshevik Revolution, every revolutionary movement has adopted the text for its unique conjuncture, in keeping with the overall ethos of the Manifesto’s content.

Any expression of historical materialism–the method and guide of communists–is, it unfortunately needs to be stated, historical. Nothing holds for all time everywhere. Marx and Engels say as much when they close their preface to the 1872 reissue by listing what they wanted to update 25 years later, a list that is quite extensive especially given its brevity. They didn’t edit the text because it had, by then, “become a historical document which we have no longer any right to alter.” This presents a problem for some readers insofar as it is a very early text, written before Marx’s real study of political economy, and thus one from which the key theoretical developments of Marx are absent. However, in the same preface Marx and Engels also make it clear that “the general principles laid down in this Manifesto are, on the whole, as correct today as ever.” [3] Despite any deficiencies in political clarity or theoretical coherence, its precise, energizing, and careful formulations still exert force today.

Like any work, the Manifesto was determined by its particular context of production. The fact that its distribution and reception have only increased over time (and in ways favorable to our class) testifies to its ongoing relevance. It remains a foundational pillar in the development of Marxism—or revolutionary socialism, a mission we continue to realize on the global scale. The Manifesto comes to life whenever the class struggle intensifies or wherever rapid shifts in political consciousness occur, like in the radical transformation we’re undergoing in the U.S., where the fog of anti-communism is lifting—that’s why Red Books Day has, every year, expanded and flourished. Prompted by this opportunity to revisit the text afresh, this short article doesn’t summarize the content as a whole but rather contextualizes some of the Manifesto’s main principles within some of the later works of Marxism and the Marxist movement more generally, providing clarity and correcting some common misinterpretations of the work that oftentimes falsely justify premature dismissals of Marxism, socialism, and communism. [4] In conclusion, I place the key tasks we inherit from the Manifesto and how later developments in the radical Black and communist theory are absolutely pivotal to pursuing this project today in that they help us understand the links between anti-communism and white supremacy and aid our project in uniting all working and oppressed people for the common liberation of the many.

The Pedagogy and Form of the Manifesto

Marx and Engels met in 1842 on Engels’ way to Manchester, reuniting two years later after Engels returned to the city. Both were fellow travelers of the Young Hegelians. Marx edited a radical paper, Rheinische Zeitung, to which Engels contributed an article on political economy. The next few years of their collaboration were remarkably transformative: by 1846 they had decisively broken with the Young Hegelians and initiated their development of historical materialism and the origins of a more mature revolutionary theory, informed as it was by decades of ongoing practical struggle and study. While Marx and Engels broke with their younger Hegelian selves in 1845-46 to articulate the historical-materialist method of communism, the Manifesto links that method with its objective and organizational form.

The pamphlet was penned primarily by Marx in January 1848 in Brussels, although it was a collaborative project. Notwithstanding the debates about to what extent Engels’ initial drafts contributed to the final project—and in particular his “Draft of a Communist Confession of Faith” for the Communist League’s First Congress in 1847—it was Engels’ overall writing, theorizing, and organizing that provided Marx with the requisite knowledge about modern industry and also that helped both formulate the historical materialist method, and it was largely Engels’ interventions that enabled him and Marx to join the League. [5]

Marx and Engels formally joined the Communist League after the spring 1847 conference agreed to the main points they advocated, which were formally adopted at another congress later that year. These points included the principle that members of the League act “in the interest of the Communist Party, the overthrow of the bourgeoisie.” Along with this, they agreed to change the name from the League of the Just—formed in 1837—to the Communist League. In an internal document on the congress, the change of name is granted significance insofar as communists “are not distinguished by wanting justice in general—anyone can claim that for himself—but by our attack on the existing social order and on private property, by wanting community of property, by being Communists.” [6] The Manifesto marked the first real distinction between communists, on the one hand, and utopian socialists (and social democrats), on the other, a distinction hinging on a systematic understanding of the capitalist class struggle, the need to overthrow our class enemy, and the seizure of power.

The Pedagogy and Conjuncture of the Manifesto

Attending to the Manifesto’s style and pedagogical form is important politically and educationally. By doing so, we prevent or inhibit misreading it ourselves, especially given the dominant and enduring role anti-communism plays in the modern U.S. state. Over the last few years, a multiplicity of differing factors and forces in the U.S. have no doubt radically advanced socialism in the battle of ideas. The popularity and acceptance of—or non-antagonism to—socialism is an incredible, promising, and progressive development. I can definitely divide my own life thus far along the lines of this shift, as it has radically impacted essentially all aspects of it. The waters are open for the word, idea, and even the movement of socialism, but that comes with an unavoidable muddying of those waters. Such conditions are openings for the necessary task of clarifying Marxism, giving definition to socialism, ideologically and organizationally reuniting us with the centuries-long class struggles against oppression and, for a much shorter time, against capitalist exploitation, of which we are a part.

Anti-communism’s role in the U.S. is too expansive to locate in one place; too broad to be reproduced in one form or by way of some other political orientation. Many well-meaning but ultimately insufficient, reformist, or ill-conceived “radical” theories today are premised on a rejection of Marxism and the historical project of socialism and liberation, the twists and turns and the heroism and tragedy of such class struggles. This rejection is reproduced by way of the repetition of incorrect critiques and caricatures, such that when Marx is read it comes through the glasses of an anti-communist orientation. In addition to contextualizing it within some aspects of Marxist theory and the movement, I’ve found that attending to the document’s pedagogical form helps me get what’s happening in these relatively few pages.

The work is, first of all, a manifesto, rather than a fleshed-out and fully developed systematic analysis, a comprehensive program of action, etc. As a specific literary genre, manifestos are “always addressed to the masses, in order to organize them into a revolutionary force.” [7] They are written for the yet-to-be subjects of history with no pretension as to what actual people and groups will occupy that subjecthood or what the outcome of the struggle will be. They are orientations and frameworks, not prescriptions or fixed formulas.

The Manifesto was a specific intervention in a concrete time and in a specific place and moment in history. For the Communist League, the pamphlet served as a preliminary program to organize revolutionaries of different stripes around a set of political aims and objectives—potentially into a party. Because we are part of the legacy it inaugurated, because our primary task is to continue the project to overthrow exploitation and eliminate oppression at the national and global levels, it is a pillar in maintaining our legacy and memory. It can also be a short and accessible introduction to Marxism we can read with others and those new to the struggle.

Manifestos, and this one in particular, embody a specific pedagogical form that utilizes several different tactics, all of which are important to acknowledge. The text is addressed to us: the masses of working and oppressed peoples of the world.

One main tactic employed is the didactical method, which for manifestos must be condensed, a kind of schematic and necessarily reductive account of centuries of history, time, and social formations. The didactic method appears as a quick narrative providing the lay of the land, a portrait that, while not exhaustive, is honestly more in alignment with capital today than in 1848.

For this reason, our enemies cite the Manifesto as evidence of Marxist “stageism”—or the accusation that Marx and communists adhere to a fixed, linear, developmental, and chronological conception of history that runs from lower to higher levels, that goes from the past to the future—that is often clumsily equated with “Eurocentrism.”

Stageism was often present before Marx and Engels severed ties with the Hegelians, a break that required creating an alternative conception of history and temporality, one without any destiny, predetermination, causality, or final conclusion. Thus, when Marx and Engels write about “pre-history” they don’t refer to a past and finished state of a society or the world. They employ it as a conceptual tool used to differentiate capital from previous modes of production, and the same goes with Marx’s later critique of “so-called primitive accumulation.” Differentiating theoretical containers from empirical declarations lets us stay true to the Marxist method and prevents us from reading their concepts—like formal and real subjection—as actual processes happening.

That in the 1840s they broke with the dominant Enlightenment frame of history is quite remarkable, and their response was spelled out most potently in the 1857 “Introduction” to the Grundrisse. Marx criticized bourgeois political economy for following the “rule, on the fact that the latest form regards the previous ones as steps leading up to itself” because, in particular, in capitalist societies contradictions are the rule rather than the exception, which means it is a development that is founded on “relations derived from earlier forms” that are still “found within it only in an entirely student form, or even travestied.” [8] Another way to think about it is that Marx acknowledged that the “present” isn’t an interregnum between a “past” and a “future,” but a time, place, and social location where various temporalities and histories play out in complex ways. The principle of unevenness is a primary element of Marxism, and it applies to development, production, struggle, and our sense of time. Capital, not Marx, tries to homogenize and synchronize time by presenting it as abstract and ahistorical, naturalizing capital and its structures. In the 1883 preface to the Russian translation of the Manifesto, Marx and Engels argue that the Russian Revolution, based on communes or the common ownership of land and resources, doesn’t need to go through a “stage” of capitalist development because “the present Russian common ownership of land may serve as the starting point for a communist development.” [9]

Another pedagogical tactic is the call-and-response. In the second section, Marx and Engels clarify the relationship between communists and the proletarians and address criticisms directed toward the former. They announce the charges against them and their defense, which sometimes validates the accusation through clarification. For example, the capitalists charge the communists with wanting to abolish private property, but under capitalism the vast majority don’t have any private property; “in one word, you reproach us with intending to do away with your property. Precisely so; that is just what we intend.” [10] The reader is engaged in a conversation that is still happening today (including through Red Books Day), but with different coordinates.

The third section takes the form of a literature review, a comradely yet critical survey of different strands of socialist thought by which Marx and Engels can differentiate communism. By placing each in their historical context, we learn some of threads woven throughout the long history of the communist project, some of the different eras and forces that articulated the desire for emancipation and equality, and why their historical and material conditions of thought couldn’t set up the foundations for their fuller elaboration.

Another pedagogical tactic deployed is the rallying call to arms. Section four, the last and shortest part of the text, embodies a pedagogy of mobilization, providing immediate tactical decisions that entail engaging with non-communist forces to serve serve the pressing issues of the working and oppressed so that “in the movement of the present, they [the communists] also represent and take care of the future of that movement.” The Manifesto, addressed to us, the masses that make history, closes out by opening up a new horizon: “Let the ruling class tremble at a Communistic revolution. The proletarians have nothing to lose but their chains. They have a world to win. Working men of all countries, unite!” [11]

A Clear Call for Global Emancipation and Liberation

Marx and Engels open the Manifesto with a sweeping declaration: “The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of class struggles.” Struggles between the classes of the slavers and enslaved, lords and serfs, or “in a word, oppressor and oppressed” are generally latent but erupt into visible confrontations that lead to either “a revolutionary reconstitution of society at large, or in the common ruin of the contending classes.” [12]

As Marx openly acknowledged, he wasn’t the first to discover or theorize the existence of classes or the class struggle [13]; that the goal of the class struggle was the political supremacy of the proletarians, however, was a main point of contention between various socialist forces, particularly between the utopians and the communists, as the latter insisted that only through open struggle and the achievement of political power could we achieve equality.

The character of the class struggle changes under capitalism, as do its avenues of struggle. The capitalist epoch is distinct insofar as it generally simplifies class antagonisms. “Society as a whole is more and more splitting up into two great hostile camps, into two great classes directly facing each other: Bourgeoisie and Proletariat.” [14] In this conjuncture of the class struggle, the latter class is revolutionary—or potentially revolutionary.

As a text written for the imminent European crises, its immediate horizon was the workers and militants across Europe. They were writing largely and somewhat schematically about Europe because it was the place, stake, and audience of the battles; but it is clear that the development of European capital wasn’t confined to the continent, that it included the colonization of the Americas and the opening up of the Indian and Chinese markets, as the overall development of production and distribution propelled new developments in communication and transportation, new railways, and created new markets for their commodities and new sources of raw materials and labor, etc. To power such production required new energy sources and inputs, and former ‘middle-class’ independent workers and middle-class operatives of capital were replaced by the modern capitalist class. Each technological revolution within the capitalist revolution cohered a capitalist class that, with its quickly increasing power and reach, captured “the modern representative State,” which “is but a committee for managing the common affairs of the whole bourgeoisie.” [15] The state, that is, serves as a mechanism for the capitalist class to manage its internal and external contradictions.

Marx and Engels survey the revolutionary role played by the bourgeoisie in the struggle against feudalism in Europe, although this is sometimes more sarcastic than serious. The capitalist class overthrew feudal rule, abolishing small-scale patriarchal relations that could be explained away by the Church and replaced them with “naked self-interest” and “substituted naked, shameless, direct, brutal exploitation” for previous labor relations clouded in personal relations and ideological mysticism or immediate dependency. [16] While capital cannot hide its exploitation, it can provide cover for it through abstract legal notions like equality and freedom.

Capital’s growing power also catalyzed the extent of crises of overproduction “because there is too much civilization, too much means of subsistence, too much industry, too much commerce.” [17] The capitalist’s only solution to their own crises is to lay the foundations for more intensive and protracted ones. Because of the competitive laws of capitalism, the bourgeoisie always looks upon the current productive and social relations as transitory and in need of constant change:

Constant revolutionizing of production, uninterrupted disturbance of all social conditions, everlasting uncertainty and agitation distinguish the bourgeois epoch from all earlier ones. All fixed, fast-frozen relations, with their train of ancient and venerable prejudices and opinions are swept away… All that is solid melts into air, all that is holy is profaned. [18]

Capitalism is dynamic; in order to expand—which is its modus operandi—it has to continually reinvest in changes to technologies, transportation, and communication, overcoming the isolation of feudal life and concentrating large numbers of workers in cities and factories, facilitating communication, and organizing. In 1848, this was still a minor and ascendant tendency, although today it is fully realized. The League couldn’t send a pamphlet across the globe in a manner of seconds.

The incessant revolutions in the forces, means, and relations of production “chases the bourgeoisie over the whole surface of the globe,” a phenomenon bourgeois commentators only realized about 130 years later. As capital nestles everywhere, it brings “under the feet of industry the national ground… All old-established national industries have been destroyed or are daily being destroyed. They are dislodged by new industries, whose introduction becomes a life and death question for all civilized nations, by industries that no longer work up indigenous raw material, but raw material drawn from the remotest zones.” [19]

Capital is a colonizing world power, and Marx and Engels recognized this as a contradictory and also forthcoming development:

The bourgeoisie, by the rapid improvement of all instruments of production, by the immensely facilitated means of communication, draws all, even the most barbarian, nations into civilization. The cheap prices of commodities are the heavy artillery with which it batters down all Chinese walls, with which it forces the barbarians’ intensely obstinate hatred of foreigners to capitulate. It compels all nations, on pain of extinction, to adopt the bourgeois mode of production; it compels them to introduce what it calls civilization into their midst, i.e., to become bourgeois themselves. [20]

This is not a welcoming reception but a warning signal, because “civilization” for Marx and Engels is British or European civilization, one founded on colonialism and slavery, theft and dispossession. The reference to the Chinese Wall is, similarly, not literal in terms of the actual wall nor how capital breaches it, as capital deploys both the “free market” and the coercive and repressive military power that backs that market up.

Marx and Engels certainly appreciate how the generation of productive forces provides the material basis for providing for all of the world, although they were referring to Western Europe in the text. The elimination of scarcity as an inescapable reality and the means to provide not only the basic necessities for the present but additional wants and even stocks of goods for the future is a historic accomplishment. They also celebrated the mixing of lives and cultures owed to urbanization and the dominance of the city over the country, as it “rescued a considerable part of the population from the idiocy of rural life.” [21] The English translation “idiocy” refers to a lack of communication and brevity of social relations, rather than any “intelligence” status. In fact, the increasing comingling of people in cities and countrysides produced a broader and more sophisticated intellectual arena for all.

Moreover, Marx and Engels are responding to the utopian socialists’ critique of bourgeois society by demonstrating the structural reasons for the suffering of such “advanced civilizations” to which the utopians attributed the ills of society. The utopian socialists’ intentions were good but their understanding was guided by morality and their methods were limited to the construction of communes that would, by reason and rational argumentation, win the ruling class over to their side.

Capital’s Production of Our World

The accumulation of capital is the accumulation not only of production and property but of political power, producing a “national” being or a state entity by which the oppressed must conquer—and have conquered—to acquire political supremacy.

In this way, the Manifesto’s assertion that capital “creates a world after its own image” continues to explain much of our global situation today. [22] This is not because capital reproduces itself everywhere and in the same manner, but rather because capital is an inherently uneven system. Consider the absolute general law of capitalist accumulation that creates “accumulation of wealth at one pole” and “accumulation of misery, agony of toil, slavery,” and so on, at the other pole. [23] The accumulation of capital is simultaneously “increasing concentration of the means of production, and of the command over labour” and the “repulsion of many individual capitals one from another.” This, in turn, is offset by the centralization of capital, whereby many smaller capitals are combined into larger capitals. [24] The limit here is, of course, capital’s, insofar as capital can’t accept the complete centralization into a single entity.

The state is key to this and other processes of capital accumulation, which is evident with an example Marx gives of the productive capacity of capital’s centralization: “The world would still be without railways” so long as their production was in the hands of a large number of smaller capitalists, but centralization “accomplished this in the twinkling of an eye.” [25] Railways are forms of immobile and fixed capital, which “assigns it a peculiar role in the economy of nations.” Fixed capital is national capital because it “cannot be sent abroad, cannot circulate as commodities in the world-market.” [26] In order for capital to circulate, it must also be fixed in space; in order for capital to accumulate in one place, it must diminish somewhere else. Hence, the important economic function of war: it literally destroys capital to allow for renewed accumulation.

Marx and Engels articulate some of their knowledge at the time on the dynamics of capital, which never map onto history. The reason the world isn’t a complete image of capital is, additionally, due to the historic resistance of working and oppressed peoples who have achieved political supremacy, although in a different manner than the Manifesto and, later, Marx and Engels, held.

Proletarianization

About halfway through the first section, after discussing the developments of capital, Marx and Engels switch to how the bourgeoisie produced the class who can abolish it and class society: the proletarian class, one continually changing and faced with the task of political consciousness and organization. As capital increases, so too do the ranks of the proletariat, as even smaller independent capitalists can’t compete with modern industry while any unique skills are rendered redundant by technological transformations.

Returning to the opening lines, where they assert that class struggle is the motive force of history, and that capitalism increasingly polarizes society into two antagonistic classes or camps, can better clarify some of the central but often overlooked or misunderstood elements of this formulation.

The first is that the splitting up into two classes is a process rather than a finalized or even finalizable state. In other words, proletarians aren’t produced once and for all; capitalism divides society into two antagonistic groupings. The second is that they refer to both as classes and “camps.” Despite the absence of a fully worked-out definition of classes in the text or in Marx’s work overall, they perhaps called them camps to account for their non-exclusionary character. Indeed, what is remarkably notable in the opening lines are the reduction of various class struggles to that between the oppressor and the oppressed. Even as they acknowledge several classes, some of which include more complicated hierarchies and layers or levels, they recognize a continuity that is more than a repetition of the same and, perhaps, by equating the capitalist class struggle with the struggle between the oppressor and oppressed.

No more do special places in the social division of labor exist—they mention priests and lawyers, scientists and doctors—as a revered and privileged position; they too are reduced to proletarians. [27] Today, 175 years on, my colleagues at DePauw University, facing yet another invented “crisis” and another round of cuts and layoffs, realize that we are workers, not “professors” or “teachers.” Such surprise is explained by the withering away of any material basis for middle-class status and the increasing deskilling of our labor-power. Engels’ similarly accounted for any awe in his 1845 work, The Condition of the Working Class in England, where he recounts how capitalist development in colonial Britain deprived even workers of the illusion they could attain a decent standard of living, thereby collecting “together those vast masses of working men who now fill the whole British Empire.” [28]

The technological dynamism propelled by the need to increase the social productivity of labor through machinery, similarly, swells the ranks of the unemployed and “dangerous classes” and make all proletarians’ “livelihood[s] more and more precarious.” [29] Again, 175 years ago Marx and Engels located precarity as a primary condition we, as workers, are forced to grapple with—well before the “gig economy.”

Oppressor and Oppressed

In the first section, the discussion of the proletarian class comes immediately after Marx and Engels mention how capital tries to solve its contradictions through “the conquest of new markets.” This demonstrates that, even this early on, communists centered the colonial question, even if it wasn’t refined at this time. As Lucia Pradella, among others, has forcefully demonstrated, Marx gave increasing attention and weight to the anti-colonial revolutions happening in the mid-late 19th century. Colonization, for Marx, was not a ‘North-South’ or ‘East-West’ issue; it was, and is, an issue of domination and exploitation.

Neither Marx nor Engels only attended to Europe, nor did they abstract Britain or Europe away as self-enclosed entities. In the Grundrisse, for example, Marx addresses the concentration of labor-power into collective labor, which explains “the violent rounding-up of the people in Egypt, Etruria, India etc. for forced construction and compulsory public works.” [30] Over time, Pradella shows, they extended their position on national liberation and class struggle—both struggles between the proletariat and the bourgeoisie—to other colonial territories, including China and India. During the Taiping Revolution, “Marx changed his previous unidirectional view of international revolution, tracing a relation between proletarian struggle in the metropolis and anti-colonial movements in the colonies.” He welcomed the revolution and the detrimental impacts it would have on British colonialism, the same reason for which he supported—and “was probably the first major European intellectual and political activist to support the national liberation struggle in India.” [31] In a direct rebuttal to allegations of Eurocentrism and a privileging of the ‘working-class’ as the revolutionary subject, Marx argued that the anti-colonial rebellions would come before and would ignite the socialist revolutions in the colonizing countries. [32]

One could argue that the equation of the class struggle with the struggle between the oppressor and oppressed anticipated their forthcoming incorporation of the colonial question and the centrality of national liberation, something featured in the Manifesto itself.

The closing section of the pamphlet addresses how communists in different nations relate to other opposition parties. “In Poland,” they write, communists “support the party that insists on an agrarian revolution as the prime condition for national emancipation.” [33] Just a few lines up from the closing clarion call for “working men of all countries, unite!” we read that, wherever they are, communists “support every revolutionary movement against the existing social and political order of things.” [34] Certainly, they didn’t have a fully fleshed out theory of national liberation and socialism, although later on they did. [35]

Same Objectives, Different Conjuncture: Anti-Racism and the Socialist Struggle

Marx and Engels open the Manifesto not with a preordained future but an indeterminate future that will be produced through struggle: if the proletarians don’t overthrow the bourgeoisie there is “the common ruin of the contending classes.” [36] These options are translated in various ways (e.g., barbarism or socialism; humanity or capitalism), but they are still the base options available to us today. The central question, then, is how do we ensure the victory of our class?

The Manifesto offers no prescriptions and, indeed, the League lacked the depth and breadth of experience from which to draw on to even reflect on their previous organizational forms. Yet it is clear that the proletarians can’t fight it out alone or even on the scale of the workplace, industry, community, or state.

Capitalism, as a system of oppression, requires a collective and organized revolutionary struggle to overthrow it by foreclosing any individualistic or particularistic forms of resistance. As capital grows, so too does its class enemy: “a class of labourers, who live only so long as they find work, and who find work only so long as their labour increases capital.” [37] Independent artisans, shop-owners, peasants, and small producers are thrown into this lot through the production of machinery, which ultimately incorporates the workers’ skill and knowledge into a form of fixed capital. However we rebel and develop, we have to recognize that “every class struggle is a political struggle,” and whenever we fight the bosses and oppressors we’re engaged in the class struggle and in a political project. [38]

The key task, then as now, is to organize the working and oppressed peoples “into a class, and consequently into a political party” that, “organized as the ruling class” will implement a program for the oppressed. [39] This task is, to be sure, complex, sensitive, and contingent on time, place, and society. In the U.S., no communist party or communist movement can unite working and oppressed people into a class unless it represents the diverse characteristics of our class and fights tooth-and-nail for the national and racial liberation projects against white supremacy, settler-colonialism, and the emancipation of all oppressed identities.

By doing so, we confront head-on the ties between anti-communism and white supremacy that Gerald Horne makes clear. Racism to this day is linked with the emancipation of the formerly enslaved because Reconstruction–even after its counterrevolutionary overthrow—was “one of the largest uncompensated expropriations” until, that is, the Bolshevik Revolution in 1917. As such, Horne asserts that “African Americans are living reminders of lost fortunes,” and so “the reaction to socialism–which has also involved expropriations of property—is difficult to separate from race and racism.” [40] For this reason, the primary obstacles to overcome are the long and ongoing legacies of racial slavery and white chauvinism. If we don’t understand their links with what Charisse Burden-Stelly calls “modern U.S. racial capitalism,” we can neither understand contemporary capitalism nor overthrow the capitalists class. [41]

The Communist Manifesto announced the need for the proletariat to win political supremacy and rule over their former oppressors without, however, saying how to pursue this task or what role the state played in it. It was precisely “the defeats of the revolutions in 1848 that allowed Marx to go beyond the Manifesto’s general formula and sum up that experience with greater clarity” rather than “an abstract formula.” [42] Marx and Engels admit as much in the 1872 Manifesto preface, as the Paris Commune made it clear that workers can’t use the existing state for our project but must smash that state and construct a new one in our interest. We can’t rely on the contemporary U.S. state, founded and maintained as it is by white supremacy, capitalist exploitation, imperialist plunder to provide either the avenue to socialism or the apparatus by which to achieve it.

Let’s read the Manifesto of the Communist Party today, and tomorrow, for our history, present, and our future common and universal emancipation and freedom.

Endnotes

[1] One of Marx’s main disputes with other members of the League was his assertion that, because the German bourgeoisie was so inactive and powerless, that country could undergo a bourgeois and subsequent proletarian revolution in 1848 (a “permanent revolution”).

[2] Jones, Gareth Stedman. “Introduction.” p. 17.

[3] Marx, Karl, and Engels, Friedrich. The Communist Manifesto. pp. 198, 197.

[4] For more background and context, see The Peoples Forum. “History of The Communist Manifesto with Brian Becker.” Available here.

[5] Ireland, David. The Communist Manifesto in the Revolutionary Politics of 1848. pp. 37-68.

[6] Wolff, Wilhelm, and Schapper, Karl. “A Circular of the First Congress of the Communist League to the League Members. June 9,1847.” pp. 599, 595.

[7] Althusser, Louis. Machiavelli and Us. p. 17.

[8] Marx, Karl. Grundrisse. pp. 105, 106.

[9] Marx, Karl, and Engels, Friedrich. The Communist Manifesto. p. 196.

[10] Ibid., p. 237.

[11] Ibid., p. 258.

[12] Ibid., p. 219.

[13] Marx, Karl. “Marx to Joseph Weydemeyer.” pp. 2-65.

[14] Marx, Karl, and Engels, Friedrich. The Communist Manifesto. p. 220.

[15] Ibid., p. 221.

[16] Ibid., p. 223.

[17] Ibid., p. 226.

[18] Ibid., p. 222.

[19] Ibid., p. 223.

[20] Ibid., p. 225.

[21] Ibid., p. 224.

[22] Ibid.

[23] Marx, Karl. Capital (Vol. 1). p. 604.

[24] Ibid., pp. 586, 575.

[25] Ibid., p. 588.

[26] Marx, Karl. Capital (Vol. 3). p. 162.

[27] Marx, Karl, and Engels, Friedrich. The Communist Manifesto. p. 228.

[28] Engels, Friedrich. The Condition of the Working Class in England. p. 30.

[29] Marx, Karl, and Engels, Friedrich. The Communist Manifesto. p. 229.

[30] Marx, Karl. Grundrisse. p. 528.

[31] Pradella, Lucia. Globalisation and the Critique of Political Economy. pp. 120, 122.

[32] Marx, Karl. “Revolution in China and Europe.” p. 93.

[33] Marx, Karl, and Engels, Friedrich. The Communist Manifesto. p. 257.

[34] Ibid., 258.

[35] La Riva, Gloria. “Lenin and the Right of Nations to Self-Determination.”

[36] Marx, Karl, and Engels, Friedrich. The Communist Manifesto. p. 219.

[37] Ibid., p. 227.

[38] Ibid., p. 230.

[39] Ibid., p. 230, 242.

[40] Horne, Gerald. “White Supremacy and Anti-Communism.” pp. 282-283.

[41] Burden-Stelly, Charisse. “Modern U.S. Racial Capitalism Some Theoretical Insights.”

[42] Becker, Brian. “How the Ideas of ‘The State and Revolution’ Changed History.” p. 11.

Bibliography

Althusser, Louis. Machiavelli and Us. Trans. F. Matheron. Verso, 2000.

Becker, Brian. “How the Ideas of ‘The State and Revolution’ Changed History.” In B. Becker (Ed.), Revolution Manifesto: Understanding Marx and Lenin’s Theory of Revolution. Liberation Media, 2015.

Burden-Stelly, Charisse. “Modern U.S. Racial Capitalism Some Theoretical Insights.” Monthly Review, Vol. 72, No. 3, pp. 8-20.

Engels, Friedrich. The Condition of the Working Class in England. Oxford University Press, 2009.

​​Horne, Gerald. “White Supremacy and Anticommunism.” Science & Society, Vol. 62, No. 2, 1998, pp. 282-283.

Ireland, David. The Communist Manifesto in the Revolutionary Politics of 1848: A Critical Evaluation. Palgrave Macmillan, 2022.

Jones, Gareth Stedman. “Introduction.” In Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, The Communist Manifesto. Penguin Books, 1967.

La Riva, Gloria. “Lenin and the Right of Nations to Self-Determination.” In J. Cutter (Ed.), Storming the Gates: How the Russian Revolution Changed the World. Liberation Media, 2017.

Marx, Karl. Capital: A Critique of Political Economy (Vol. 1): The Process of Capitalist Production. Trans. S. Moore and E. Aveling. International Publishers, 1967.

Marx, Karl. Capital: A Critique of Political Economy (Vol. 2): The Process of Circulation of Capital. International Publishers, 1967.

Marx, Karl. Grundrisse: Foundations of the Critique of Political Economy (Rough Draft). Trans. M. Nicolaus. Penguin Books, 1993.

Marx, Karl. “Marx to Joseph Weydemeyer.” In Marx and Engels Collected Works (Vol. 39): Letters 1852-1855, Lawrence & Wisehart, 2010.

Marx, Karl. “Revolution in China and Europe.” In Marx-Engels Collected Works (Vol. 12): Marx and Engels 1853-1854. Lawrence & Wisehart, 2010.

Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, The Communist Manifesto, trans. S. Moore (New York: Penguin Books, 1967).

Pradella, Lucia. Globalisation and the Critique of Political Economy: New Insights from Marx’s Writings. Routledge, 2015.

Wolff, Wilhelm, and Schapper, Karl. “A Circular of the First Congress of the Communist League to the League Members. June 9,1847.” In Marx-Engels Collected Works (Vol. 6): Marx and Engels: 1845-1848. Lawrence & Wishart, 2010.

Studying Society for the Working Class: Marx's First Preface to "Capital"

By Derek Ford

Republished from Liberation School.

In the preface to the first edition of volume one of Capital, dated July 25, 1867, Marx introduces the book’s “ultimate aim”: “to lay bare the economic law of motion of modern society” [1]. Looking back 155 years later, it’s clear the book not only accomplished that aim but continues to do so today.

In a few short pages, Marx introduces the method he used to study and present his research into the dynamics of capitalism, explains the reasons why he focused on England, distinguishes between modes of production and social formations (and by doing so refutes any accusations of his theory of history as progressing linearly through successive stages), identifies the capacities he’s assuming of the reader, affirms he’s interested in critiquing the structures of capital and not the individuals within it, and explains that the main function of the book is to help our class intervene in the constantly changing capitalist system.

Capital’s method and audience

After a brief explanation about the first three chapters and how they differ from his previous work, A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy, Marx briefly discusses his method and the difficulty it entails: “Every beginning is difficult, holds in all sciences” [2]. The value of science, after all, is to explain why things happen. Scientific analysis begins with something apparent in the world and abstracts from it particularly decisive elements that demonstrate why the phenomenon appears as it does, how and by what principles it functions, what impact it has on the world, etc.

Because Marx is studying society, however, “neither microscopes nor chemical reagents are of use.” He has to develop another technique for studying the basic forms of capitalism, which he calls “the force of abstraction” [3]. While Marx’s method of abstraction is filled with nuances, it essentially entails breaking down the object of study into discrete elements or categories so we can have a more accurate–and politically powerful–understanding of it.

But beginning with the basic “cell form” of capital–value–is indisputably hard. Marx encourages us to press on, reminding us that, save these opening chapters, the book “cannot stand accused on the score of difficulty.” “I pre-suppose,” he continues, “a reader who is willing to learn something new and therefore to think for himself” [4]. Difficulty is a relative term, so if we’re willing to challenge our preconceived conceptions of the world and use our critical faculties, he’s saying, we won’t find it too difficult. Marx didn’t write Capital to impress the political economists of his day but to arm our class with the theoretical tools necessary to overthrow capitalism, which means that the reader he is pre-supposing is a member of our class, the working class.

England as the “chief ground” for Capital

Not only does Marx not have recourse to scientific technologies, he doesn’t have the ability to isolate capital and place it in a laboratory setting. His task is different from scientist who “makes experiments under conditions that assure the occurrence of its phenomenon in its normality.” Unable to separate capital from the world or his own position, Marx’s task is exceedingly difficult: he’s analyzing something that’s in constant motion and that determines the society in which he lives. This partly explains why, “to examine the capitalist mode of production, and the conditions of production and exchange corresponding to that mode,” he turns to where capitalism’s “classic ground” was at the time: England. “That is the reason why England is used as the chief illustration in the development of my theoretical ideas,” he explains [5].

Yet there are other reasons for his focus on England. Not only was he living there at the time but, as he wrote in the Preface to A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy, “the enormous material on the history of political economy which is accumulated in the British museum” and “the favorable view which London offers for the observation of bourgeois society” made it an ideal case study [6].

Finally, the recent class struggles in England forced the state to establish “commissions of inquiry into economic conditions” carried out by people “as competent, as free from partisanship and respect of persons as are the English factory-inspectors, her medical reporters on public health, her commissioners of inquiry into the exploitation of women and children, into housing and food” [7]. The text and concepts of Capital are filled with the damning testimony of such inspectors, and Leonard Horner was one of his favorites.

In the ninth chapter, Marx writes that Horner “rendered undying service to the English working-class. He carried on a life-long contest, not only with the embittered manufacturers, but also with the Cabinet” [8]. Horner used to be a capitalist businessperson himself, and wasn’t opposed to capitalism the way Marx was. He was distraught by the horrors produced by capitalism’s unchecked tendencies, but “was morally committed to the belief that profitability could arise from good working conditions and from educating the masses” [9].

Marx’s admiration of Horner and the factory inspectors, who were mostly civil servants or small capitalists, shows how struggles within the capitalist state can advance the socialist movement, and serves as a good reminder that we should draw on as many different sources in our own research as possible.

The complexity of capitalist societies

In England, as Marx says, the laws of capitalist production were most evident because it was there that, in the mid-19th Century, the system was most developed. And as he’ll show in the last part of volume one, English capital was developed because of, among other things, “conquest, enslavement, robbery, murder” as well as “slavery pure and simple” in the U.S. [10]. Despite being the most advanced manifestation of capitalism, however, Marx is clear that British society wasn’t completely defined by the capitalist mode of production. Although conditions in English factories were better than other European countries because of the Factory Acts, British workers

“suffer not only from the development of capitalist production… Alongside of modern evils, a whole series of inherited evils oppress us, arising from the passive survival of antiquated modes of production, with their inevitable train of social and political anachronisms. We suffer not only from the living, but from the dead” [11].

This is one of several places where Marx makes clear his understanding of history and social transformation, an understanding that in no way assumes neat and clean breaks between different stages of history, with the latest stage annihilating the previous one. In fact, the first half of the very first sentence of Capital makes the same point but in understated terms: “The wealth of those societies in which the capitalist mode of production prevails…” [12].

It’s helpful to distinguish between modes of production and social formations not only because the distinction is decisive analytically, but more importantly because it accounts for the coexistence of different modes of production in capitalist societies. It further corrects the erroneous view that Marx didn’t account for the relationship between capitalism and slavery by “assigning slave labor to some ‘pre-capitalist’ stage of history” [13]. In his preparatory notebooks for Capital, written before the outbreak of the Civil War, Marx asserted that the U.S. represented “the most modern form of existence of bourgeois society” [14]. This comes shortly after his explicit acknowledgment that “a mode of production corresponding to the slave” had to be created in “the southern part of America” [15].

That Marx expressly highlights how different modes of production exist together and foregrounds that, as large as capital was in England, it wasn’t the only game in town, demonstrates the seriousness with which he studies history. At the same time, he insists that workers in other countries “can and should learn from others” so they might “shorten and lessen the birth-pangs” of transformation [16].

“Follow your road, and let the people say!”

For the last few paragraphs of this opening preface, Marx transitions into a more agitational style of writing. The first point, which crops up throughout the book, is that he refers to individual people “only in so far as they are the personifications of economic categories, embodiments of particular class-relations and class-interests.” He tells us he doesn’t romanticize the capitalist or landlord, but that the study of society can’t hold “the individual responsible for relations whose creature he socially remains, however much he may subjectively raise himself above them” [17]. In other words, the class struggle is a fight not to change individuals but to change the social systems that condition or determine our individual standing in society. As we saw with Horner, however, this doesn’t mean that Marx totally ignores individuals, but that classes–and not persons–have the political agency to transform social relations.

Writing in London 155 years ago today, Marx saw evidence of transformation–even radical transformation–underway. He writes about “a radical change in the existing relations between capital and labour” on the European Continent before citing then-U.S. Vice President Benjamin Wade’s statement “that, after the abolition of slavery, a radical change of the relations of capital and of property in land is next.” Evidence, however, isn’t a guarantee of such change. They are only indications of radical possibilities:

“They do not signify that tomorrow a miracle will happen. They show that, within the ruling-classes themselves, a foreboding is dawning, that the present society is no solid crystal, but an organism capable of change, and is constantly changing” [18].

Marx wrote Capital to help working and oppressed peoples determine the direction of change, and he closes the preface with a famous quote from Dante’s Divine Comedy: “Follow your road, and let the people say!” He ends, that is, by reminding us—the readers willing to challenge ourselves with this text—that how we use the weapon that is Capital is up to us.

References

[1] Karl Marx, Capital: A Critique of Political Economy (Vol. 1): The Process of Capitalist Production, trans. S. Moore and E. Aveling (New York: International Publishers, 1867/1967), 20. Available here.
[2] Ibid., 18.
[3] Ibid., 19.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Ibid.
[6] Karl Marx, A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy, trans. N.I. Stone (New York: Lector House, 1859/2020), x. Available here.
[7] Marx, Capital (Vol. 1), 20.
[8] Ibid., 216, footnote 17. Available here, footnote 10.
[9] Andy Merrifield, Marx Dead and Alive: Reading Capital in Precarious Times (New York: Monthly Review Press, 2020), 46.
[10] Marx, Capital (Vol. 1),  668, 711. See also Pappachen, Summer. (2021). “What is Imperialism? An Introduction.” Liberation School, September 21. Available here.
[11] Marx, Capital (Vol. 1), 20.
[12] Ibid., 43, emphasis added.
[13] Cedric Robinson, Black Marxism: The Making of the Black Radical Tradition (Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 1983/2000), 4.
[14] Karl Marx, Grundrisse: Foundations of the Critique of Political Economy (Rough Draft), trans. M. Nicolaus (New York: Penguin Books, 1939/1973), 104. Available here.
[15] Ibid., 98.
[16] Marx, Capital (Vol. 1), 20.
[17] Ibid., 21.
[18] Ibid.

Derek R. Ford’s “Encountering Education:” Bridging Marxist Educational Theory and Practice

By Peter McLaren

It was almost seven years ago that I participated in Derek R. Ford’s dissertation defense at Syracuse University. In that work—later published as Education and the Production of Space—Ford built on my own revolutionary critical pedagogy by further experimenting with the exact educational logics at work in revolutionary struggles and their spatial relations and implications.[1] After many twists and turns, for the last several decades I’ve worked to enlarge the scope of critical pedagogy into social movements because Marxist pedagogy is nothing unless it’s contributing to a social universe outside of capitalist value production.[2] Ford is one of several who continue to take that project in new directions, and since his dissertation he’s continued his work as a communist organizer at the local, national, and global levels and, just as importantly, has continued to write and theorize at the intersections of Marxism, pedagogy, and revolutionary struggles today. His seventh book, Encountering Education: Elements for a Marxist Pedagogy continues this trend in important and provocative ways.[3] The book is an incisive intervention in the fields of educational and political theory, yet it’s also one that’s relevant to organizers and activists today.

Ford begins by observing the frequency with which Marx’s eleventh Theses on Feuerbach—that “The philosophers have only interpreted the world, in various ways; the point is to change it”—is cited. From here he launches into his own intervention by noting that what is rarely mentioned is “the direction toward which he wanted to change it,” something that is inseparable from what he studied and the theory he articulated.[4] In other words, Marxist theory isn’t merely about changing the world but about advancing the class struggle toward the eventual abolition of class society. This is the transformation from the capitalist mode of production to the communist mode of production via socialism, which “as a social formation” is a combination “of elements of both modes of production in which communist relations and means of production are ascending through the class struggle.”[5] The novelty of Ford’s work is the way he sees pedagogical processes as absolutely central to not only the reproduction of the capitalist mode of production but, more importantly, as key yet neglected aspects of the struggle for a new mode of production. Ford contends that we have to both explain the political context of our moment and the pedagogical philosophies of marxist education appropriate to that conjuncture, while insisting that neither are reducible to the other.

 

An Overview of Ford’s Latest Riffs

The first chapter begins where his last book, Marxism, Pedagogy, and the General Intellect: Beyond the Knowledge Economy, left off: with Ford’s unique and bold excavation of two latent pedagogical logics in Marx’s own works.[6] This is a theme he’s developed elsewhere in various ways, and in this sense Encountering Education is another extended riff on this theory. This is not mere repetition, but rather the result of Ford’s sprawling research that refuses to follow a linear trajectory. In this book, it serves as the foundation for the “elements of a marxist pedagogy” that Ford organizes around the “disinterpellative encounter,” a concept first proposed by another former student of mine, Tyson E. Lewis. Whereas Althusser articulated interpellation as the material process through which subjects are inaugurated into the mode of production, Lewis and Ford theorize disinterpellation as the disruption of that process. “The pedagogical encounter,” Ford writes here, “is ‘an exposure to an outside,” and an excess or surplus gap within the lesson.’”[7]

For Ford, Marx’s distinction between the method of presentation and inquiry serves as the starting points for a marxist pedagogical philosophy of learning and studying, the former of which is linear and guided by predetermined ends and the latter of which is open-ended and guided by a ceaseless wondering and wandering to and fro. Ford innovatively reads work by Marx and his commentators as gesturing toward but never reaching this pedagogical dialectic Marx articulates.

The next chapter develops a theory of “errant learning” in which both pedagogies are blocked together, and the political context here are anti-colonial and decolonial struggles. He begins with John Willinsky’s Learning to Divide the World, which looks at how education was and is fundamental to colonialism.[8] Ford attends to Willinsky’s neglect of learning and colonialism while at the same time contributing to revolutionary work on studying that has focused primarily on neoliberalism. He does this through a highly unique—and for some, probably, controversial—turn to Édouard Glissant’s Poetics of Space and Peter Sloterdijk’s Spheres project. Here, Ford identifies “the grasping drive as the educational foundation of the colonizing apparatus. I argue that the grasping drive positions opacity as a potential that must be realized—as a thought that must be known—an orientation that ends up sacrificing opacity as such.”[9] Ford turns to the question of form through Sloterdijk, linking the grasping drive to “lordly imagining,” before drawing out the revolutionary potential of Sloterdijk’s work on foams. He develops his theory of “errant learning” as “another form of dialectically blocking together the methods of inquiry and presentation, but one that shows the necessity of presentation and the existing historical material conditions in which we engage in inquiry.”[10]

After exploring the colonial and imperial context of our times, Ford turns next to the urban coordinates of our struggle and our present. He shows how the grasping drive is the pedagogical logic of today’s urbanism, which he justifies and then develops a pedagogical response to by turning to Jean-François Lyotard’s later work. Indeed, here we will note Ford’s highly unorthodox marxism that, while it’s unapologetically committed to the proletarian class camp and the struggle for communism, looks for philosophical allies everywhere he can, even in the most unsuspecting of places. Today’s urbanism—the megalopolis—is one in which everything is put into circuits of communication and exchange and “is ‘an economy in which everything is taken, nothing received,’” and is thus illiterate. Ford takes illiteracy as a positive element for marxist pedagogy insofar as such illiteracy “is not the negation or suppression of literacy, but instead a development of literacy as grasping, through which forms and concepts constitute objects under the mind’s direction and the subject’s will.”[11] Instead of presenting what this looks like, he inquiries into examples, one of which is the use of “scare quotes.” When we write or read square quotes, we “create a margin around the words and prevent any firm links between the words inside and outside to be drawn. While we can produce uncertain connections (“what is it about ‘this’ word?”), these always slip out of our grasp.”[12]

Urbanism isn’t only about steel and pavement, bounded densities of population and production, but is also virtual and material at the same time. In the fourth chapter, he builds on Curry Malott’s work on the postdigital, which Malott sees as a struggle “over what form the postdigital will take, which will be determined,” Ford urges, “by what mode of production prevails.”[13] While there is much of interest in this chapter, what is perhaps most politically and theoretically important is Ford’s argument against marxist theorists who have abandoned Marx’s theory of value today on the basis that “immaterial” and “knowledge” or “cognitive” work and products are immeasurable. “Marx’s law of value,” he reminds us, “is precisely immeasurable” insofar as both aspects of socially-necessary labor time are “dynamic,” “unpredictable,” and at times even outside of even our individual and collective consciousness.[14] The main problem he identifies with capitalist postdigital pedagogy is “that it limits individuation to the capitalist form of individuality and reinforces our conception and experience of individuality as a finalized starting point rather than an endpoint.”[15] Capital needs the individual subject-form to produce commodities (like knowledge). Yet rather than argue for the collective alone, Ford proposes—in postdigital fashion—for the pedagogical and political process of individuation through incalculable thought.

Ford begins the conclusion by noting that “there’s an immense power that comes from hearing an explanation for one’s oppression and our collective poverty and misery,” but that “explanation is only one part of the marxist pedagogical dialectic. The other part—inquiry—is a different kind of power: the power of wonder.”[16]  Here he summarizes the political and pedagogical distinctions between inquiry and presentation beautifully:

“If one side of the marxist pedagogical dialectic is about knowing and presentation, then we have to attend to the other side, which is about thought and inquiry. Such a distinction turns on the dialectic between exchange-value and use-value, between abstraction and differentialization, between capitalism and communism. The dialectic itself is here, in the present, in the global capitalist world, but in the world in transition. Understanding or knowing involves a determinate judgment that takes place when given data comes under the mind’s order and comprehension is a faculty of determination in which data comes under the mind’s comprehension. Thinking, by contrast, is an exposure to stupor, an experience with immeasurable concepts that the mind can never grasp.”[17]

After an important presentation and study of interpellation, counterinterpellation, and disinterpellation, Ford turns to the role of noise and music in anti-colonial struggles to tie together the various riffs produced in the book, ending with the example of technologies that mediate the voice such as autotune, which show us that vocalization is a ‘process without a subject’ insofar as they prevent us from linking the sound of a voice to an essence of an individual subject or a piece of fixed capital.” These technologies produce a “sonic surplus” that we have to listen to both synchronically and diachronically as well in order to “receive an immersive education in the wonder as well as the theory of class struggle, a struggle that is advanced ideologically and materially through the forces of opposition and swerve.”[18] The swerve is the unpredictable but nonetheless intended action of the marxist pedagogue.

 

Conclusion

There’s no doubt in my mind that Ford’s book—and this review—will be challenging to some. Yet for those who are confused, I can only urge you to spend time with Encountering Education, which makes these dense and difficult theories accessible and makes them come to life with real-world examples. That the book is available as an affordable paperback and a free online PDF will hopefully contribute to the essential ideas in this book proliferating throughout our movements. The pedagogical elements of the book aren’t recipes or dictates, but rather resources for us to use in all of our revolutionary educational endeavors.

 

Peter McLaren is Distinguished Professor in Critical Studies, College of Educational Studies, Chapman University, where he is Co-Director of the Paulo Freire Democratic Project and International Ambassador for Global Ethics and Social Justice. In 2005, a group of scholars and activists in Northern Mexico established La Fundacion McLaren de Pedagogía Critica to develop a knowledge of McLaren's work throughout Mexico and to promote projects in critical pedagogy and popular education. On September 15, 2006 the Catedra Peter McLaren was inaugurated at the Bolivarian University of Venezuela.

 

Notes

[1] Derek R. Ford, Education and the Production of Space: Political Pedagogy, Geography, and Urban Revolution (New York: Routledge, 2017).

[2] Peter McLaren, Pedagogy of Insurrection: From Resurrection to Revolution (New York: Peter Lang, 2016), 373.

[3] Derek R. Ford, Encountering Education: Elements for a Marxist Pedagogy (Madison: Iskra Books, 2022).

[4] Ibid., 1.

[5] Ibid., 94.

[6] Derek R. Ford, Marxism, Pedagogy, and the General Intellect: Beyond the Knowledge Economy (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2021).

[7] Ford, Encountering Education, 14.

[8] John Willinsky, Learning to Divide the World: Education at Empire’s End (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1998).

[9] Ford, Encountering Education, 43.

[10] Ibid., 44.

[11] Ibid., 76.

[12] Ibid., 85.

[13] Ibid., 86. See also Curry S. Malott, “Capitalism, Crisis, and Educational Struggle in the Postdigital,” Postdigital Science and Education 1, no. 2 (2019): 371-390.

[14] Ibid., 93.

[15] Ibid., 99-100.

[16] Ibid., 102.

[17] Ibid., 103.

[18] Ibid., 122.

Clarifying and Inspiring Revolution for 130 Years: Marx's "Critique of the Gotha Programme"

By Mazda Majidi and Derek Ford

Republished from Liberation School.

Karl Marx never intended to spell out what the communist future would look like or how we would get there. His writing that comes closest to doing this is a short letter he wrote in 1875, given the title Critique of the Gotha Programme. Published 130 years ago—in 1891—by Friedrich Engels, Marx’s lifelong collaborator and comrade, the short and incisive text served to clarify and inspire the working-class struggle for power through a critique of the draft version of the Gotha Programme, a program eventually adopted with a few revisions at the First Congress of the Social Democratic Party of Germany in the city of Gotha in 1875. The program brought together the Social Democratic Workers’ Party of Germany and the General Association of German Workers. The latter was founded by Ferdinand Lassalle, whose ideas strongly influenced the new party’s platform.

Lassalle and Marx became friends and comrades through their participation in the 1848 democratic revolutions throughout Europe. Marx first organized for the revolution in Brussels but was banished to Germany, where Lassalle lived, and where Marx continued to agitate and organize. Lassalle was imprisoned for inciting violence and served six months in prison. Years later, in 1864, when he was only 39, having been deprived of the chance to marry a woman he loved, Lassalle challenged the man to whom the woman’s father married her, a Romanian prince, to a duel. Lassalle was killed.

In his preface to the 1888 English edition of The Communist Manifesto, Engels wrote in a footnote that “Lassalle personally, to us, always acknowledged himself to be a disciple of Marx” who “stood on the ground of the Manifesto,” although in the last two years of his life his “public agitation… did not go beyond demanding cooperative workshops supported by state credit” [1].

The Gotha Programme was a compromise between the followers of Lassalle and Marx. Marx wrote his critique in preparation for the Congress, and it circulated widely amongst Party members, especially those coming from the Social Democratic Workers’ Party of Germany. Marx addressed it to his allies in an effort to convince them not to compromise with the reformist ideas of Lassalle. In 1875, Engels wrote a letter to August Bebel, who for most of his life was a Marxist. Engels wrote that he and Marx were only aware of the unification efforts through public papers and that the “programme has certainly astonished us not a little” [2].

Engels published The Critique of the Gotha Programme in 1891, after Marx’s death and the same year the Erfurt Programme replaced the Gotha Programme. Although the Erfurt Programme was more revolutionary in content than the earlier one, the Party apparatus was still dominated by what we’d now refer to as social democrats and adherents to other non-revolutionary variants of socialism.

It is important to read the text for what it was: a critique, a commentary written in conversation with the socialist movement at a certain juncture in history. At the same time, the short Critique (of an even shorter program itself) has a long legacy with lasting impacts on the world socialist and then communist movements. Given the attention Lenin gave to the text and to Marx and Engels’ letters about it in his State and Revolution, we can see that the Critique provided some theoretical groundwork for the revolutionary Marxism of the Third International to split with the reformism and national chauvinism of the Second International [3].

Background of the Critique: Marx’s analysis of capitalism, the state, and revolution

After the 1848 revolutions some—or actually most—people in the movement and in the Communist League believed there would be an immediate resurgence of struggle after the counterrevolution prevailed. Marx and Engels disagreed. They forecast—correctly—that a reactionary period was settling in for some time. As a result, they believed that the immediate tasks of the communist movement should emphasize revolutionary education and theory. Marx and Engels were able to convince the Communist League’s branch in London of their conviction, although the League would dissolve in 1852.

In accordance with the new tasks for the new period, Marx turned his attention to the study of political economy, a study in which he had not systematically engaged yet. This work was ironically facilitated after the German authorities put Marx on trial several times, in each of which he was acquitted. They kicked him out of Germany in 1849. Marx first tried going back to Paris, but the authorities said he was too dangerous. So Marx ended up in London, where he spent the rest of his life.

Marx’s studies of political economy culminated in the 1867 publication of the first volume of Capital–Marx’s most developed analysis of capitalist production–where he articulated the theory of value and surplus value. Marx was working on other volumes at the time, although the workers’ movement forced him to turn his attention elsewhere. Particularly relevant to the Critique was the experience of the Paris Commune. His study of the Commune was published in 1871 as The Civil War in France, and was one of Marx’s most developed analyses of the state and the revolutionary process.

The essence of Marx’s critique

The real dynamics of capitalism and the role of the state in the revolutionary struggle for communism are at the heart of Marx and Engels’ criticisms. At the same time, it’s important to remember that Marx was writing to comrades in the German Party (not for the public) and it was a highly contextual intervention. The essence of the Critique revolves around the program’s interrelated misconceptions of 1) labor, classes, and wages; 2) the state’s role in the emancipation of the working class; and 3) the revolutionary transition from capitalism to communism. In this section, we highlight some of the most relevant insights that emerge from the text.

The program did not comply with Marx’s theory of value [4]. The draft and final version of the Gotha Programme demanded the “equitable distribution” of the “total labour” of society. There’s no acknowledgement of the fact that what is produced has to be divided between replacing “the means of production used up,” investments in expanding productive capacities, and the creation of a reserve of surpluses for an “insurance fund.” Moreover, society’s products have to fund administration, common “needs, such as schools, health services,” as well as “those unable to work” [5]. The demand is thus utopian in that it supposes a communist society based “on its own foundations” rather than on the actual foundations on which it emerges: capitalism [6].

Rather than “equal distribution” there will, under socialism–the first stage of communism–be unequal distribution because socialism inherits inequalities from capitalism that can’t be wished away. In the first stage of communism–socialism, material goods are not distributed evenly. There is still the distinction between the wages of skilled, semi-skilled and unskilled labor. Only “in a higher phase of communist society” can “society inscribe on its banners: from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs” [7]!

The Program proclaimed that all classes besides the working class “are only one reactionary mass” and ignored the existence of other classes, such as landlords, the self-employed, peasants, and the middle classes [8]. With the continued concentration of capital, these classes are largely proletarianized, giving them a revolutionary potential dismissed in the Gotha Programme. At the same time, the program declared that its utopian demands would be achieved by the “democratic control” of “state aid,” which would establish “the free basis of the state” [9]. This free basis includes a number of democratic demands like universal suffrage, free and compulsory schooling, and a progressive income tax.

Marx asks: “Free state – What is this” [10]? The state isn’t free-floating or neutral, but is rooted in the capitalist mode of production. The experience of the Paris Commune, in particular, showed that “the working class cannot simply lay hold of the ready-made State machinery, and wield it for its own purposes” [11]. Instead, the struggle for communism entails a “period of revolutionary transformation,” to which “there corresponds… also a political transition period in which the state can be nothing but the revolutionary dictatorship of the proletariat” [12]. Marx insists on the necessary struggle for the working and oppressed to conquer state power to repress the former ruling classes.

Although “the free basis of the state” in the draft was replaced with “the state,” the essence remained unchanged because the state was seen as a neutral vehicle to be used to replace capitalism with socialism.

Later developments and political consequences of Marx’s critique

Because this was a founding program based on principles rather than strategies, Marx and Engels worried about its impact on the Party and the workers’ movement as a whole. In their correspondence on the unification congress, both insisted that “every step of real movement is more important than a dozen programmes” [13]. What matters more than what the Party says is what the Party does. For example, even though the final program addressed Marx’s criticism of the implicit nationalism in the draft–which didn’t include “a word… about the international functions of the German working class!”–the Party’s later support for World War I would make their chauvinism clear [14].

The critique was a key resource for Lenin’s study and publication of The State and Revolution. Lenin expanded on the transition between the first and second stages of communism and justified the dictatorship of the proletariat.

Lenin writes that “the first phase of communism cannot yet produce justice and equality; differences, and unjust differences, in wealth will still exist, but the exploitation of man will have become impossible” [15]. This, Lenin writes, guards against idealism insofar as “we must not think that having overthrown capitalism people will at once learn to work for society without any rules of law. Besides, the abolition of capitalism does not immediately create the economic prerequisites for such a change” [16]. The dictatorship of the proletariat is essential in consolidating this phase and guiding society towards the next phase, in which there’s “no need for society, in distributing the products, to regulate the quantity to be received by each; each will take freely ‘according to his needs’” [17].

Importantly, the construction of communist society is a possibility without guarantees. “By what stages, by means of what practical measures humanity will proceed to this supreme aim,” Lenin insists, “we do not and cannot know” [18].

Marx’s emphasis on the importance of the proletarian dictatorship in the transition between capitalism and communism in the Critique is echoed in W.E.B. Du Bois’ classic, Black Reconstruction in America. Du Bois initially titled one chapter, “the dictatorship of the Black proletariat in South Carolina.” In a 1934 letter to his publisher (in which he admits he only has a few of Lenin’s works), Du Bois defends the title in response to objections from others, noting that “in 1867, there were distinct evidences of a determination on the part of the [B]lack laborers to tax property and administer the state primarily for the benefit of labor.” The title was important, he insisted, because it “revolutionizes our attitude toward Reconstruction” [19].

While the title was eventually changed to “the Black proletariat in South Carolina,” the book still speaks of the struggle between the dictatorship of capital and labor. In the aftermath of the Civil War, Du Bois laments how the reunited U.S. “delivered the lands into the hands of an organized monarchy of finance while it overthrew the attempt at a dictatorship of labor in the South” [20]. In chapter 14 of the book, Du Bois argues that “in the South universal suffrage could not function without personal freedom, land and education, and until these institutions were real and effective, only a benevolent dictatorship in the ultimate interests of labor, Black and white, could establish democracy” [21]. For Du Bois, as for Marx, reconstruction was a struggle over state power, over how and in whose interests the state would be used. In the vision of united labor’s dictatorship, “unjust differences” would still exist, and the dictatorship was necessary for creating the conditions for real equality.

Marx’s Critique of the Gotha Programme was an internal response to debates and figures that belong to a different era, and Marx didn’t write it as a blueprint or roadmap for communism. Yet it remains a rich resource for our own struggles and agitation, for winning workers over to Marxism rather than liberalism, and for clarifying the socialist program in the U.S. Over the last 130 years, the struggle has persisted between reformists, who falsely claim that the capitalist state can be adjusted to serve the interests of the working class, and revolutionary communists, who insist that fundamental change is only possible when the working class smashes the state apparatus of the bourgeoisie and constructs its own workers’ state through the dictatorship of the proletariat.

References

[1] Engels, Friedrich. (1888/1967). “Preface to the German edition of 1883,” in Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels,The communist manifesto(New York: Penguin), 200.
[2] Marx, Karl and Friedrich Engels. (1891/1966). “Appendix I: From the correspondence of Marx and Engels concerning the Gotha Programme,” in Karl Marx,Critique of the Gotha Programme, ed. C.P. Dutt (New York: International Publishers), 27.
[3] For the historical impact of The state and revolution, see Becker, Brian. (2018). “How “The state and revolution” changed history.”Liberation School, September 30. Availablehere.
[4] See Ford, Derek and Mazda Majidi. (2021). “Surplus value is the class struggle: An introduction,” Liberation School, March 30. Availablehere; and Majidi, Mazda. (2021). “Relative surplus value: The class struggle intensifies.”Liberation School, 18 August. Availablehere.
[5] Marx, Karl. (1891/1966).Critique of The Gotha Programme, ed. C.P. Pruitt (New York: International Publishers), 7.
[6] Ibid., 8.
[7] Ibid., 10
[8] “Programme of the German Workers’ Party: Draft,” inCritique of the Gotha Programme, 89.
[9] Ibid., 90.
[10] Marx,Critique of the Gotha Programme, 17.
[11] Marx, Karl. (1871/1966).The civil war in France(Peking: Foreign Languages Press), 64.
[12] Marx,Critique of the Gotha Programme, 18.
[13] Marx and Engels, “Appendix I,” 34.
[14] Marx,Critique of the Gotha Programme, 13.
[15] Lenin, V.I. (1918/1964). “The state and revolution,” inLenin: Collected works (vol. 25): June-September 1917, ed. S. Apresyan and J. Riordan (Moscow: Progress Publishers), 471.
[16] Ibid., 472.
[17] Ibid., 474.
[18] Ibid., 477.
[19] Du Bois, W.E.B. (1934). “Letter from W.E.B. Du Bois to Ben Stolberg, October 1.” W.E.B. Du Bois Papers (MS 312). Special Collections and University Archives, University of Massachusetts Amherst Libraries,1, 2.
[20] Du Bois, W.E.B. (1935). Black reconstruction in America: An essay toward a history of the part which Black folk played in the attempt to reconstruct democracy in America, 1860-1880(New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company), 580.
[21] Ibid., 585.

The Base-Superstructure: A Model for Analysis and Action

By Derek Ford

Although Marx himself only mentioned the “base” and “superstructure” in (by my count) two of his works, the base-superstructure “problem” remains a source of serious contention for Marxists, our sympathizers, and our critics. Despite its outsized role in Marxist debates, the model can, when contextualized and understood in its nuances, be quite useful for analyzing capitalist society and organizing for socialism [1].

Marx explicitly introduces the distinction between the base and superstructure in the preface to his 1859 A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy. In the preface, Marx builds on his previous work with Engels, The German Ideology, writing:

“In the social production of their existence, humans inevitably enter into definite relations, which are independent of their will, namely relations of production appropriate to a given stage in the development of their material forces of production. The totality of these relations of production constitutes the economic structure of society, the real foundation, on which arises a legal and political superstructure and to which correspond definite forms of social consciousness. The mode of production of material life conditions the general process of social, political and intellectual life. It is not the consciousness of men that determines their existence, but their social existence that determines their consciousness” [2].

The base of society—which is also translated as “infrastructure”—includes the relations of production and the productive forces. Productive forces name labor-power, instruments or tools used by workers, and the materials workers transform in the production process. The relations of production entail the social organization of production and reproduction, or how the re/production of life is structured. It’s important to emphasize that the base isn’t just the forces of production but production relations, which are not only economic but social.

The superstructure comprises the political-legal system of the state and consciousness—or ideology—in general, which manifests in culture and art, religion and spirituality, ethics and philosophy, etc. The superstructure emerges from the totality of the relations of production. Political activity and intellectual processes and products are conditioned by the mode of production (the relations and forces of production). And as we’ll see below, elements of the superstructure in turn impact the base.

According to Engels, he and Marx laid so much emphasis on the importance of the base because of their historical and material context, because they were responding to those who denied the importance of production. In an 1890 letter to the German socialist Joseph Bloch in which Engels clarifies their model, he notes that “we had to emphasize the main principle vis-à-vis our adversaries, who denied it” [3]. Earlier in the letter, he writes that “the ultimately determining factor in history is the production and reproduction of real life,” and that “if somebody twists this into saying that the economic factor is the only determining one, he transforms that proposition into a meaningless, abstract, absurd phrase” [4].

Engels infers that Bloch’s questions come from his study of secondary literature only, and he asks Bloch to read the primary sources, referring him in particular to Marx’s 1852 book, The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte, perhaps the only other place Marx mentioned the superstructure explicitly (although he alludes to it elsewhere). In this earlier work, Marx formulates the superstructure like this:

“Upon the different forms of property, upon the social conditions of existence, rises an entire superstructure of distinct and peculiarly formed sentiments, illusions, modes of thought, and views of life. The entire class creates and forms them out of its material foundations and out of the corresponding relations” [5].

Classes, that is, collectives defined by their location in the totality of social production, produce ways of feeling, thinking, and understanding life.

The context and relations of the base and superstructure

That the model isn’t a mechanical formula—in which the base unidirectionally produces the superstructure—is evident when we consider the context in which it appears.

A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy was the product of Marx’s ongoing work on Capital. What were some of Marx’s main critiques of political economy? First, it took appearances for granted and didn’t ask about the underlying structures that generated such appearances. Second, it viewed political economy and the world as a series of independent objects and subjects, when they were interconnected and interrelated parts of a unity or totality that was in constant motion. Third, and as a result of the first two critiques, it didn’t take a historical-materialist approach to understanding these transformations, projecting present categories back into the past and the future, so that capitalism as a social system was figured as eternal.

Those who take the base as independent and static thus side with Marx’s bourgeois adversaries. It’s not an economistic formula in which changes in the economy automatically and predictably lead to changes in society. The base-superstructure is a “spatial metaphor” that serves descriptive purposes [6]. While it can lend itself to a reading whereby what happens below determines what happens on top, if read as a Marxist model it’s helpful for understanding and analyzing the dynamics of the class struggle.

This is why Marx used the superstructure in The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte: to “distinguish still more the phrases and fancies of parties from their real organism and their real interests, their conception of themselves from their reality” [7]. He goes on to partially locate the failure of the 1848 Paris revolution and the success of the 1851 coup of Louis-Napoléon Bonaparte in the emergence of social-democracy, which

“is epitomized in the fact that democratic-republican institutions are demanded as a means, not of doing away with two extremes, capital and wage labor, but of weakening their antagonism and transforming it into harmony. However different the means proposed for the attainment of this end may be, however much it may be trimmed with more or less revolutionary notions, the content remains the same” [8].

The social-democratic forces, while using revolutionary phrasings, didn’t seek to overthrow the existing relations of production but to manage them in a more equitable manner through the capitalist political and legal superstructure.

Marxism and the base-superstructure model

Given the above, it’s clear that the model is dialectical. As a historical-materialist, Marx understood that the base and superstructure of society change over time and are context-dependent. Neither the base nor superstructure, nor the relationship between the two, are unified, static, or ahistorical.

The relations of production in U.S. capitalism are neither unified nor even strictly economic in the sense that they’re structured and divided by race, nationality, gender, dis/ability, sexuality, and other hierarchies. Engels affirms that the relations of production are social (and racial) in an 1894 letter to the German anarchist Walther Borgius. Responding to Borgius’ request for clarification on the role of the base, Engels acknowledges that “economic conditions… ultimately determine historical development. But race itself is an economic factor” [9]. Clearly race is part of the base, yet it’s obviously superstructural as well, in that 1) race is a historically constructed and evolving category and 2) it’s maintained and ordered not just by economic forces and relations but by elements like culture, the media, and the legal system.

In fact, Engels soon after says that “political, juridical, philosophical, religious, literary, artistic, etc., development is based on economic development. But all these react upon one another and also upon the economic base” [10]. The boundaries between the base and superstructure are not static or fixed, and superstructural elements in society work to reproduce elements of the base.

Capitalism requires, for example, the legal system of the state to enforce private property rights. In this instance, it’s crucial to the reproduction of the base. Because the capitalist legal system arises from capitalist relations of production, changes in the legal system might alter the existing relations of production, but they can’t fundamentally overthrow them, for that requires the creation of a new social and economic system.

Although Marx didn’t spend much time studying the political economy of cultural activity, another example of the dynamism of the model appears in his argument that artists and other cultural workers are productive agents. He distinguishes those who produce surplus value from those who don’t, although both can be forms of wage-labor (for example, working for the state doesn’t produce surplus value but is a form of labor-power sold to another). Marx conceptualizes intellectual work, dancing, writing, singing, and other “artistic” or “cultural” actions, when performed through the commodity of labor power, as forms of wage labor [11]. Such forms of work can thus be viewed through the prism of the base or superstructure.

All of this highlights that the base and superstructure is a metaphor and model for Marxists, a way to analyze and approach society and social transformation rather than an easy explanation.

Smart phones: An example

To get a better handle on the relationship between material production and ideas or mental conceptions, think about the proliferation of “smart phones.” When, in order to e-mail, we used to have to sit at a computer and connect via cables to the internet, we had a different idea of time and communication than we do now that many of us can e-mail wherever and whenever. A 2021 Pew Research Poll found that 85 percent of people overall (and 73 percent of people earning less than $30,000 annually) in the U.S. have smart phones, so this isn’t a minor phenomenon [12].

The technology makes it possible for your boss to require you to respond to e-mails (e.g., to work) at night. It blurs the distinction between work and life, let alone between work and leisure. How many of us respond to work e-mails on vacation? The smart phone makes it possible for me to ask you a minor question or a series of them throughout the day, rather than wait and type one single e-mail. We begin to think of time differently, and we begin to relate to each other differently. When I was a student, for example, it was normal for teachers to respond to e-mails within a few days. Now the expectation is that teachers respond within hours.

Even our feelings and bodies change. Have you ever felt your phone vibrate in your pocket only to realize it didn’t? This is called “phantom vibration syndrome.” A 2011 study of 290 undergraduate students found that around “89% of the sample had experienced phantom vibrations, and 40% experienced these vibrations at least once a week” [13]. Yet the smart phone didn’t arise spontaneously, it wasn’t dropped from the heavens. Workers conceived of it, designed it, produced it, and made it all possible. It’s a productive material force that changes our forms of consciousness, ways of feeling, senses of time, and more. Yet the reason smart phones were produced and subsequently distributed throughout society is because they increase the productivity of labor. The same object that, when used for work, enters into the base, when used for non-work purposes, enters into the superstructure.

Utilizing the model for the revolutionary movement

The socialist revolution can’t come without changing the base of society, as it entails transforming private ownership into collective ownership, abolishing capitalist relations and constructing socialist relations. But the superstructure reacts on the base and informs it. There’s a dynamic interplay between the two, and the question is not so much what is located in which part of the model as what is the most strategically significant for advancing the class struggle in a particular setting? The abolition of wage labor—the socialist revolution—has to focus on the superstructure and the base and understand their composition, contradictions, and potentials.

In the chapter on the working day in Capital, Marx describes the decades-long struggle for a “normal” working day. He quotes horrific details about the abuses of industrial capitalism on workers from factory inspectors. At the end of the chapter he declares that “the labourers must put their heads together, and, as a class, compel the passing of a law, an all-powerful social barrier that shall prevent the very workers from selling, by voluntary contract with capital, themselves and their families into slavery and death.” In other words, the tactical objective is to establish “a legally limited working-day” [14].

This is a clarion call for a change in the superstructure, for a legal reform. It’s a significant fight to reduce the working day, not only to protect workers from the abuses of bosses but also to give workers more time to organize. At the same time, it impacts the base of society as well, because given a limited working day, capital has to pursue other avenues to accumulate extra surplus value. In fact, it’s with these limitations that capital turns to the production of relative surplus value, which is when capitalism as a mode of production properly comes into being [15].

Another example is Marx’s critique of Alfred Darimon, a follower of Proudhon, who wanted to introduce a “socialist form” of money that would represent the actual time that workers labored. While Marx acknowledged that “one form [of money] may remedy evils against which another is powerless… as long as they remain forms of money” they’ll reproduce these evils elsewhere in the same way that “one form of wage labour may correct the abuses of another, but no form of wage labour can correct the abuse of wage labour itself” [16]. Capitalism can’t be overthrown without changing the relations of production.

Revolutions require objective and subjective conditions. Without changes in mass consciousness—which are superstructural but relate to and impact the base—no crisis of capitalism will lead to a new mode of production. A crisis in the capitalist system can, in turn, help change that consciousness, but is not in itself sufficient. Neither can be viewed or approached in isolation, and have to be approached as interacting within the shifting totality of capitalist society. In response to these approaches, our tactics and strategies change.

References

[1] Thanks to Jon Greenway for feedback on an earlier draft of this article.
[2] Marx, Karl. (1859/1970).A contribution to the critique of political economy(New York: International Publishers), 20-21.
[3] Engels, Friedrich. (1890/1965). “Engels to Joseph Bloch.” InMarx-Engels selected correspondence(New York: Progress Publishers), 396.
[4] Ibid., 394, 396.
[5] Marx, Karl. (1852/1972).The eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte(New York: International Publishers), 47.
[6] Althusser, Louis. (1995/2014).On the reproduction of capitalism: Ideology and ideological state apparatuses, trans. G.M. Goshgarian (New York: Verso), 54.
[7] Marx,The eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte, 47.
[8] Ibid., 50.
[9] Engels, Friedrich. (1894/1965). “Engels to W. Borgius in Breslau.” InMarx-Engels selected correspondence(New York: Progress Publishers), 441.
[10] Ibid., 441-442.
[11] Marx, Karl. (1939/1990). “Appendix: Results of the immediate process of production.” In Karl Marx,Capital: A critique of political economy (vol. 1), trans. B. Fowkes (New York: Penguin), 1044.
[12] Pew Research Center. (2021). “Mobile fact sheet.”Pew Research center, April 7 Availablehere.
[13] Drouin, Michelle, Daren H. Kaiser, and Daniel A. Miller. (2012). “Phantom vibrations among undergraduates: Prevalence and associated psychological characteristics.”Computers in Human Behavior28, no. 4: 1493.
[14] Marx, Karl. (1867/1967).Capital: A critique of political economy (vol. 1): A critical analysis of capitalist production, trans. S. Moore and E. Aveling (New York: International Publishers), 285, 286.
[15] See Majidi, Mazda. (2021). “Relative surplus value: The class struggle intensifies.”Liberation School, 18 August. Availablehere.
[16] Marx, Karl. (1939/1973).Grundrisse: Foundations of the critique of political economy (rough draft), trans. M. Nicolaus (New York: Penguin), 123.

Paulo Freire’s Centennial: Political Pedagogy for Revolutionary Organizations

By Derek Ford

Republished from Liberation School.

All revolutionary processes are educational. From organizing meetings and study groups to writing protest speeches and propaganda before the revolutionary moment to creating new revolutionary educational and cultural institutions and training teachers and specialists after the seizure of power, revolution is educational through and through. Yet exactly what kind of educational operations does revolution entail, and how can we understand and practice them?

It is precisely these questions that Paulo Freire addressed in his classic work, Pedagogy of the Oppressed.

One hundred years after his birth in the Brazilian state of Pernambuco, Freire’s name is widely recognized and, relatively speaking, so too is his canonical text. Yet the book is referenced or discussed more than it is deeply engaged. This is particularly evident when Freire’s work is severed from its revolutionary Marxist orientation [1].

While it’s often taken as an abstract guide-book for how to teach, Pedagogy of the Oppressed is really a theoretical reflection on his own experiences teaching peasants how to read and write, a theory he extends to revolutionary movements, leadership, and organization. After spending 70 days in prison for “treachery” [teaching poor peasants to read and write], he was exiled from Brazil following the military junta in 1964. He eventually settled in Chile, which is where he wrote Pedagogy of the Oppressed. The book has been targeted by the right wing in the U.S. (it is currently banned from public schools in Arizona). It addresses the educational components of revolutionary movements and, as such, it is littered with references to Marx, Lenin, Fanon, and others. Specifically, the book is concerned with how the revolutionary leadership pushes the struggle forward, or how it teaches and learns from the masses in struggle.

The pedagogies of oppression and liberation

The pedagogy of the oppressed has two stages. During the first stage, “the oppressed unveil the world of oppression and through praxis commit themselves to its transformation.” During the second stage, which is after the world of oppression has been transformed, “this pedagogy ceases to belong to the oppressed and becomes a pedagogy of all people in the process of permanent liberation” [2].

The first stage addresses how the oppressed view and relate to the world. It begins by acknowledging that the oppressed possess both an oppressed consciousness and an oppressor consciousness. The oppressor consciousness is the enemy that needs to be liquidated: “The oppressor consciousness tends to transform everything surrounding it into an object of its domination. The earth, property, production, the creations of people, people themselves, time—everything is reduced to the status of objects at its disposal” [3].

This is what capitalism does: it takes everything and makes it into private property, including our ability to labor. This has a profound impact on the world, even instilling the oppressor consciousness in the oppressed. Thus, we have to distinguish an oppressor consciousness from the oppressed person, and we have to transform that consciousness.

The way that we engage in that transformation is absolutely crucial, and this is where the question of pedagogy comes into play. Freire calls the traditional form of pedagogy “banking pedagogy.” In banking pedagogy, the teacher is the one who possesses knowledge and the students are empty containers in which the teacher must deposit knowledge. The more the teacher fills the receptacle, the better teacher she is. The content remains abstract to the student, disconnected from the world, and external to the student’s life. Banking pedagogy—which is what most of us in the U.S. experience—assumes that the oppressed are ignorant and naïve. Further, it treats the oppressed as objects in the same way that capitalism does.

For Freire, education must be rooted in the daily lives and experiences of students, who are subjects rather than objects. The correct educational method for revolutionaries is dialogue, which means something very specific. To truly engage in dialogue means becoming partners with the people. In this situation, “the teacher is no longer merely the-one-who-teaches, but one who is himself taught in dialogue with the students, who in turn while being taught also teach. They become jointly responsible for a process in which all grow” [4]. This process is referred to as conscientização, or coming-to-critical-consciousness.

A decisive element to the location and direction of conscientização is the pedagogical relationship. This relates to Freire’s critique of the banking model of education and to his reconception of the teacher-student relationship. The dialogic model is a relationship between teacher and student, one which is more—but, and this is absolutely crucial, not completely—horizontal. In this schema, “people teach each other, mediated by the world, by the cognizable objects which in banking education are “owned” by the teacher [5]. The teacher does not relinquish authority or power, as if that was even possible. Instead, the teacher takes responsibility for producing new critical knowledge of reality with the student.

While the pedagogical relationship and process are important parts of Freire’s thought, they have tended to be isolated from Freire’s ideological commitments and have come to stand in for Freire’s entire work. As a graduate student in a fairly critical school of education, I was only assigned the first two chapters of the book, and I’m convinced this is common practice. These chapters are rich; they’re where he denounces banking pedagogy and formulates dialogical pedagogy in response. When we stop here, however, we don’t discover the reason why he bothered writing the book in the first place.

By selectively reading the book, Freire’s dialogic pedagogy is substituted wholesale for his broader conceptual and political work, his vocabularies and theories that generated new understandings of education and revolution. There is nothing inherent in dialogue or dialogic pedagogy that necessarily leads to progressive, critical understandings. For this to happen the content must be placed in a particular context by a teacher. Peter McLaren, one of the few U.S. educational theorists to insist on Freire’s revolutionary commitments (and a comrade of Freire’s), goes so far as to say that “political choices and ideological paths chosen by teachers are the fundamental stuff of Freirean pedagogy” [6]. We can’t divorce the methodology from the ideology, the theory from the method, or the critical from the pedagogy in Freire’s work.

The dangerous fourth chapter

Freire begins the last chapter of Pedagogy of the Oppressed with “Lenin’s famous statement: ‘Without a revolutionary theory there can be no revolutionary movement,’” which Freire rewords to insist that revolutions are achieved neither by verbalism nor by activism “but rather with praxis, that is, with reflection and action directed at the structures to be transformed” [7]. It would be just as wrong to claim that reflecting on and helping name oppression is enough for revolution as to claim that activism is enough for revolution. The task of revolutionaries is to engage with our class and our people in true, authentic dialogue, reflection, and action. If we have dialogue and reflection without action, then we are little more than armchair revolutionaries. On the other hand, if we have only action without dialogue and reflection, we have mere activism.

Reflection and action are not divisions of labor between revolutionary leaders and the people, whereby the leaders think and direct and the people are only able to act on their orders. “Revolutionary leaders,” he writes, “do bear the responsibility for coordination and, at times, direction—but leaders who deny praxis to the oppressed thereby invalidate their own praxis” [8]. People and revolutionary leaders act together, building and acting in unity before, during, and after the revolution.

The prerequisite for such leadership is the rejection of the “myth of the ignorance of the people” [9]. Freire acknowledges that revolutionary leaders, “due to their revolutionary consciousness,” have “a level of revolutionary knowledge different from the level of empirical knowledge held by the people” [10].

The act of dialogue unites lived experience with revolutionary theory so that people understand what causes their lived experience to be as it is. This is a restatement of Lenin’s conviction that spontaneous knowledge of exploitation and oppression must be transformed through the Party into revolutionary consciousness of the relationship of our experience to the relationship of broader social, economic, and political forces at differing scales: within the factory, the city, the state, and the world.

This is a Marxist philosophy of education in that it rests on the presumption of competence. We can see it, for example, when Engels writes that he and Marx “cannot co-operate with men who say openly that the workers are too uneducated to emancipate themselves, and must first be emancipated from above by philanthropic members of the upper and lower middle classes” [11]. We can also see it in What is to be Done? as Lenin argues against economist Marxists, who hold that the working class develops its own revolutionary consciousness spontaneously as a result of daily struggles with the bosses. Lenin argued that spontaneity was only consciousness “in an embryonic form,” and that something more was needed. Spontaneity is necessary but is ultimately limited to “what is ‘at the present time’” [12]. In other words, spontaneity by itself isn’t able to look beyond isolated daily struggles and forward to a new society. Lenin called the spontaneously generated mindset “trade union consciousness.”

Lenin believed that workers were capable of more than trade union consciousness. He actually derided those who insisted on appealing to the “average worker:” “You gentlemen, who are so much concerned about the ‘average worker,’ as a matter of fact, rather insult the workers by your desire to talk down to them when discussing labor politics and labor organization” (p. 153). He wrote that organizers had actually held workers “back by our silly speeches about what ‘can be understood’ by the masses of the workers” [13]. The economist organizers treated workers as objects rather than subjects. They didn’t believe in the people or their potential.

Freire actually calls on Lenin when he insists revolutionary leadership is open and trusting of the people. “As Lenin pointed out,” he writes, “the more a revolution requires theory, the more its leaders must be with the people in order to stand against the power of oppression” [14]. This isn’t a naïve acquiesce but a belief in the power of the masses to become not only agents of revolutionary movements but creators of revolutionary theory through the Party. As Lenin also observed, that the Party creates a particular group of theoreticians: In the Party “all distinctions as between workers and intellectuals… must be obliterated” [15].

There is no abstract celebration of “horizontalism” within such a pedagogy. The form of the revolution and its leadership isn’t accorded abstractly; it can be more horizontal or more vertical and triangular, depending on the circumstances. Here, Freire turns to Fidel Castro and the Cuban Revolution to argue that their historical conditions compelled them to revolt without building widely with the people. Yet the leadership pursued this task immediately after taking power through organization, specifically the party. Tyson Lewis is one of the few to observe that “Freire himself clearly saw his pedagogy as a tool to be used within revolutionary organization to mediate the various relationships between the oppressed and the leaders of resistance” [16]. This is why Freire looked so favorably upon Amílcar Cabral [17].

Uniting politics and pedagogy for revolution

Revolutionary organizers, therefore, are defined not just by the revolutionary ideals they hold or actions they take, but by their humility, patience, and willingness to engage with all exploited and oppressed people. It is not possible for us to “implant” the conviction to fight and struggle in others. Coming-to-critical-consciousness is a delicate and contingent process that can’t be scripted in advance. Still, there are a few general components to it.

First, we have to truly get to know our people, their problems, and their aspirations. This means that we have to actually learn from people, acknowledging that, even if this is their first demonstration, or even if they voted for a democrat in the last election, they actually have something to teach us. The more experiences we learn from the people the richer our theories are and the more connection they can have to the daily realities of workers and oppressed people today. Our class is bursting with creative and intellectual powers that capitalist society doesn’t allow us to express or develop. The revolutionary party is stronger the more it cultivates these powers.

Second, we have to provide opportunities for others to understand their problems in a deeper and wider context, and to push their aspirations forward. Freire gives a concrete and relatable example of this:

“…if at a given historical moment the basic aspiration of the people goes no further than a demand for salary increases, the leaders can commit one of two errors. They can limit their action to stimulating this one demand or they can overrule this popular aspiration and substitute something more far-reaching—but something which has not yet come to the forefront of the people’s attention… The solution lies in synthesis: the leaders must on the one hand identify with the people’s demand for higher salaries, while on the other they must pose the meaning of that very demand as a problem. By doing this, the leaders pose as a problem a real, concrete, historical situation of which the salary demand is one dimension. It will thereby become clear that salary demands alone cannot comprise a definitive solution” [18].

Through this process, both the people and the revolutionary leadership act together and collectively name the world. Genuine knowledge is produced, and authentic action is taken, and real conviction for the struggle is strengthened.

Freire’s popularity presents an opening to draw many into the struggle and, in particular, the communist struggle. By re-establishing the link between his pedagogy and politics, we can draw those who admire his work into the movement. At the same time, we can better understand, adapt, and practice his pedagogical principles in our day-to-day organizing. “Only in the encounter of the people with the revolutionary leaders,” Freire writes in the book’s last sentence, “can this [revolutionary] theory be built” [19].

References

[1] This process started with the advent of U.S. “critical pedagogy” in the early 1980s, and Freire’s later work might have played a role in it as well. See Malott, Curry S. (2015).History and education: Engaging the global class war(New York: Peter Lang), 63.
[2] Freire, Paulo. (1970/2011).Pedagogy of the oppressed(New York: Continuum), 54.
[3] Ibid., 58.
[4] Ibid., 80.
[5] Ibid.
[6] McLaren, Peter. (2015).Life in schools: An introduction to critical pedagogy in the foundations of education, 6thed. (Boulder: Paradigm Publishers), 241.
[7] Freire,Pedagogy of the oppressed, 125-126.
[8] Ibid., 126.
[9] Ibid.
[10] Ibid., 134.
[11] Marx, Karl and Friedrich Engels. (1991). “Marx and Engels to August Bebel, Wilhelm Liebknecht, Wilhelm Bracke and others (circular letter),” trans. P. Ross & B. Ross, inMarx and Engels collected works (vol. 45), ed. S. Gerasimenko, Y.Kalinina, and A. Vladimirova (New York: International Publishers), 408, emphasis added.
[12] Lenin, V.I. (1902/1987). “What is to be done?” inEssential works of Lenin, ed. H.M. Christman (New York: Dover Publications), 67.
[13] Ibid., 156.
[14] Freire,Pedagogy of the oppressed, 138.
[15] Lenin, “What is to be done?”, 137.
[16] Lewis, Tyson E. (2012). “Mapping the constellation of educational Marxism(s),”Educational Philosophy and Theory44, no. S1: 98-114.
[17] Malott, Curry. (2021). Amílcar Cabral: Liberator, theorist, and educator,”Liberation School, 20 January. Availablehere.
[18] Freire,Pedagogy of the oppressed, 183.
[19] Ibid.