Communist Left n. 52, 2024

Communist Left n. 52, 2024
International Communist Party
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-
No. 1
COMMUNIST
LEFT
No.52
- Spring 2024
[
Pdf
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]
Updated on July, 2024
–
War and "indifferentism"
–
The Labour Movement in the United States
of America
– Part 18. War: For capital, a panacea for all ills (cont.)
–
The Economic and Social Structure of Russia Today
– Part one (cont.): Struggle for power in the two revolutions:
69. After April, onwards to the great struggle - 70.
Legal preparation or preparation for battle? - 71. The post-April phase - 72. The struggle in the countryside - 73. The demands of the urban workers
- 74. The First All-Russian Congress of Soviets - 75. The line-up at the Congress - 76. Lenin’s interventions - 77. The Bolshevik position - 78.
“Popular” revolutions - 79. “Revolutionary democracy” - 80. Political economic measures
Summaries of two previous Party General Meetings:
–
Bringing the words of communism
back into the hearts of proletarians of every country
Video conference meeting, 26–28 May 2023 [RG 146]
–
The revolutionary doctrine of the working class
on the historical failure of capital and the only redemption from the reemergence of the monsters of economic collapse shines brightly
Video conference meeting, 29 September–1 October 2023 [RG 149]
Report abstracts
:
Theoretical topics:
Marxist Theory of Knowledge
: Heresies –
Marxist Crisis Theory
, Theories of surplus-value (David Ricardo, Thomas Robert Malthus)
Historical topics:
Course of the global economy
: The course of world capitalism, The course of the
economic crisis: A general overview –
Origins of the Communist Party of China
: Submission to the Kuomintang at the Fourth Congress of the International –
Military Question
: Russian Revolution (The second Kuban campaign, The first two battles of
Tsaritsyn) –
The Agrarian question
: Historical background –
Rise of the labour and communist movement
in the Ottoman Empire: Introduction –
History of the International Communist Party
Current events:
African blowback of the crisis in the imperialist hierarchy
–
Still a neo-Ottoman Turkey
: The Turkish bourgeoisie and the elections (A fragile compromise, Elections are always against the interests of the proletariat) –
The selfless proletarian fight
against pension reform in France: The Intersyndicale weakened, then ended the struggle, A first assessment –
The continuity between democracy and fascism in Italy
: The fascist-democratic interpretation in the “material constitution” of the state –
Navigating
contradictions
: Japanese imperialism amidst stagnation and capital exports –
The working class in Latin America
: Report to
the September 2023 General Meeting –
The Party’s trade union activity in Italy
, Report to the May 2023 General Meeting, Report to the September 2023 General Meeting
From the Archive of the Left:
–
Party and proletarian class organisations
in the tradition of revolutionary communism
(1975) (Part 1 of 3)
War and “indifferentism”
One thing is absolutely clear to us, who have historically been against
all wars between imperialisms and have only fought for the war between
classes for over a century: all warfare between the bourgeois states is
the rule of the capitalist world, which has reached its full spread over
the entire globe, at the lowest point of degeneration.
We communists do not stand for the victory of any one bourgeoisie over
the other, but we are not indifferent to the unfolding historical drama.
Analysts, career soldiers, journalists, sold out to the instructions of
the big bourgeois tycoons or disciplined by the state, and big publishing
groups linked to big national capital, go to great pains to explain to us
the intricate relationships of the troops on the ground, the strategies in
action, the prospects more or less favourable to one or the other side.
Which “victory”, a term that can now only be relative, or which
cease-fire or armistice, occurs, must be a reason for us to study and
analyse, because revolution is also the historical product of how the
clash between the capitalisms of the world, between the imperialist
monsters, evolves, as well as the dynamics of capitalism as a universal
mode of production. But over everything, the absolutely necessary rebirth
of the party of the revolution is required. The party has an obligation to
understand, to analyse, obviously in the context of its capabilities,
everything that is happening, both overt and covert.
But without its “war on war” there is only one true loser, the
international proletariat, particularly that of Ukraine and that of
Russia. This war is against them, men brought to opposite sides by the
capitalists, disguised on the one hand as a defence of national freedom
against the invader, on the other hand as a defence of the threatened
Russian national integrity.
On these issues, which are not those of the pro-letarians of the two
nations, but opposed to their class interests, both in the invaded nation
and in the invading nation, the same lie that has always been repeated in
previous wars and gave justificatory substance to the carnage of the First
and Second World Wars, gathers strength and resonates. The current
massacre is being played out on this infamous heap of patent falsehoods,
imposed on the general public of the East and West.
In the West, pro-invasion propaganda is by far predominant, reaching
disgusting levels of stupidity, while the bloody and equally lying
publicity of the invader is rigorously silenced. One is reminded of the
accounts of famous newspaper columnists for the edification of the
populations during the First and Second World Wars. The tones are the
same, the same lies propagated to drive proletarians to the slaughter, to
stir up hatred among proletarians by smearing the “enemies”. Those of
today enjoy no less barking and brazen techniques.
Only to a Party which unconditionally places itself on the side of the
proletariat, which ‘has no fatherland’ and no flag, and is against
bourgeois fatherlands and bourgeois flags, only to such a Party, which in
the storm of war does not lose sight of the goal of the international
communist revolution, which is both far and near, only to this Party,
which is absolutely above and against all fighting parties, is it given to
identify the historical consequences of one outcome or another of the
bourgeois wars.
It is in this sense that we are “not indifferent”.
(back to
table of contents
)
The Labour Movement in the United States of America
Part 18
(
continued
from last issue)
War: For capital, a panacea for all ills
The union as an institution: cooperation to the bitter end
As the country had been at war for some months, the bourgeoisie could not
admit voices of dissent because they were often accompanied by economic
struggles (which never completely ceased during the war).
The repression of any class struggle worthy of the name and the
“patriotic” and anti-worker mobilisation that accompanied it were soon
flanked by another initiative aimed at countering the influence of
anti-war propaganda within the workers’ movement.
The development of the US economy in the second half of the nineteenth
century was accompanied by a vigorous growth of presence on international
markets, especially after the crisis of the 1890s. The value of exports
increased fivefold in the fifty years between 1860 and 1910, from 400 to
1,919 million dollars: but in the following five years it grew by 50%,
reaching 2,966 million dollars in 1915. Since the 1890s, in fact, there
has been a sharp increase in the attention paid to foreign markets.
Entrepreneurs, financiers, and political leaders saw in commercial
expansion, in the conquest of new markets, the indispensable solution to
the dilemmas posed by growth. The end of the process of internal
colonisation, the so-called “closing of the frontier”, induced the ruling
class to look abroad for new spaces for the placement of surplus goods and
capital. On this basis, the young American imperialism took its first
steps: first, by consolidating its economic and political dominance over
the two Americas, and secondly by trying to extend its influence over the
Pacific area and the Far East. The “open door doctrine”, enunciated by
Secretary of State John Hay in 1899 with regard to China, provided this
expansionist drive with a “general strategy”, based on the pursuit of
economic penetration in new markets rather than on the classic colonial
practice of territorial conquest. At the beginning of the new century,
therefore, the United States entered decisively into the international
competition between the great powers. Twenty years later, at the end of
the First World War, they were already in a position of clear
predominance.
While big capital led this epochal advance, a newly formed working class
was amassing in the cities, whose characteristics were continually
modified, and even disrupted, by the continuous waves of migration from
Europe. The differences produced by the different experiences at home
intersected and overlapped with religious, cultural, and ethnic divisions.
The latter became particularly relevant towards the end of the century and
in the first fifteen years of the 20th century. The migratory flow reached
the highest peaks, touching the average of almost one million arrivals per
year, in the period between 1900 and 1914. Above all in this period, the
influx of emigrants of Slavic or Latin origin from the Mediterranean or
eastern areas of Europe became by far predominant, while in the 19th
century the immigrants were mostly of Anglo-Saxon, German or Scandinavian
origin. As land became more and more expensive, and the possibility of
leaving Europe with even a small amount of capital became more and more
rare, there were no other possibilities open to immigrants than life in a
poor quarter of the city, working in a factory, or in a remote mining
village. In the urban areas all the tensions deriving from the impact
between an extremely composite and differentiated working class and an
industry that was growing and changing its characteristics under the
pressure of mechanisation and the search for maximum efficiency were
concentrated.
In the course of what was called the “Progressive Era” all social
components underwent a rapid evolution. The large corporation in a
position of quasi-monopoly certainly represented the antithesis of the
previous ideals of American democracy of a rural kind, whose central
figures, the farmer and the small independent businessman, had given life
to the culture, and the myths, of individualism. The organisation of the
trusts constituted, on the economic level, a mortal threat to that
culture, because their ability to control the market and prices eliminated
every possibility, and even semblance, of free competition. In the
political field, the concentration of wealth offered the possibility of
corrupting and controlling public affairs on a scale hitherto unthinkable.
For this reason, the fight against trusts had already constituted, in the
last decades of the 19th century, one of the battle horses of rural
populist agitation. Particularly rooted in the agrarian states of the
Midwest, the populist movement had demanded, and in part obtained, around
1890, public control over railroad tariffs (Interstate Commerce Act) and
measures to control respect for the rules of competition (Sherman Act).
But the agitation against the trusts continued to remain, at least until
the beginning of the World War, one of the central themes of the American
political scene. The anti-monopoly controversy became, in fact, one of the
battle horses of the “progressive” reform movements.
Exponents of the old ruling elites such as Theodore Roosevelt,
intellectuals, professionals, merchants, generally the most open-minded
members of the middle and upper classes, reacted openly in the face of the
pressing radical change of status that threatened them. While on the one
hand they saw the rise of the new, arrogant power of financiers and
industrialists who, at the head of great economic empires, accumulated an
enormous power of conditioning on the life of the country, on the other
hand they felt the threat of a growing working class that tended to the
organisation of strong unions and, at least potentially, to the
construction of a socialist alternative.
Faced with the social upheaval resulting from the rapid growth of an
industrial economy, the agitation of a “progressive” nature chose the dual
path of denunciation in front of public opinion and the political battle
at local and central level. In the early years of the century became
famous journalists nicknamed muckrakers (shovelers of manure): they
brought to light numerous scandals, abuses, episodes of corruption in the
public life of the cities. It spread with them a publicity of denunciation
first, and then analysis of the social plagues produced by the boom in
industry and urbanism: dilapidated neighbourhoods, poverty, child labour
and women in appalling conditions, accidents at work. But while attacking
monopoly big business, they never lost sight of the danger posed by the
working class, whose uncontrolled union organisation and growing presence
of socialism and related ideologies were feared above all.
Big business had clear objectives: stability of the financial system,
predictability of market trends, elimination of the harmful effects of
competition, elimination or reduction of labour conflicts.
For this reason, the major reforms, especially at federal level, ended up
being supported, and often designed and managed, by the most politically
“enlightened” exponents of big financial and industrial capital. Thus, the
reorganisation of the banking system, implemented in 1913 with the Federal
Reserve Act, was directly inspired by the bankers, who created a more
elastic and efficient credit structure. Similarly, the regulation of
competition in the railways, the new Clayton law on trusts, the
establishment of the Federal Trade Commission (responsible for the
supervision of any monopolistic activities), the modification of
protective tariffs, were all reforms launched with the consent of large
industrial capital. The men of the large corporations participated
directly in the conception and planning of reforms that were presented as
an attempt at public control over certain aspects of the economic
structure. And they were the ones called upon to be part of the federal
commissions charged with administering and applying the reform laws. In
this way, the control of major economic interests over politics was
realised, the use of political instruments to rationalise the economic
system, defined as “political capitalism”. It was a question of
institutionalising the guidance of politics operated by capital, which is
inseparable from the capitalist system of production, but which the
bourgeoisie always tries to hide, so as not to highlight the class
character of the state; and which only appears in the light of day when
the bourgeoisie is forced to resort to the authoritarian solution.
The reforming thrust of big capital also had as its primary objective the
pursuit of a “rational” and “efficient” harmony between classes, to
prevent the emergence of an aggressive and organised working class, with
all the dangers that this would entail.
The State sharpens its weapons of control
On the whole, in the first phase of the war, the administration’s labour
policy was quite incisive and innovative even if its major results were
limited to industrial sectors directly responsible for supplying the armed
forces or building the structures and machinery necessary for their
operation. In all sectors where the government intervened directly to
regulate working conditions, wages rose (at least nominally) to levels
required by the union pay scales, even where this had not been established
since the first agreements, as in the case of shipyards. This was
partially due to the pressure that the union leaders in the various
agencies could exert, but the main reason was undoubtedly that the
workers’ struggle would have exploded and extended much further without
these measures, eliminating any possibility of guaranteeing social peace
and making it impossible to use unions as instruments of conciliation and
workers’ “empowerment”.
As far as working hours are concerned, the maximum limit of eight hours
was established everywhere as the base time, while overtime hours – 50% or
even 100% more than base pay – practically became the rule given the
enormous demand for production. The government’s realisation of this
long-held goal of the labour movement was necessary for the conciliation
of labour and capital, and if it often was the tripartite agencies
granting this measure to the workers without struggle, it is equally true
that it was often forced from the employers without any government
intervention. The bosses as a whole accepted this government policy and
only in special and sporadic cases was any opposition exercised.
From the unions’ point of view, it allowed a considerable strengthening
of their organisations firstly, within the workplace, because of the
greater freedom they had towards the entrepreneurs, thanks to the
governmental action against anti-union discrimination, and because of
their growing rank and file; and secondly, more generally, because of the
power they were gaining through the integration of production into the
governmental apparatus.
The counterbalance to this process was the repression and destruction of
the forces of the workers’ movement, which represented the only organised
alternative to the conservative unions; this also constituted a valid
deterrent for all those who could think of not respecting the peace
agreement by the government and the leaders of the AFL
All these factors, on the other hand, while contributing to the
strengthening of the unions, also shifted their main reason for strength
from the ability to successfully face the employers to the permanence of
cooperative relations with the government: that is, they made the unions
less and less “self-sufficient”, as they liked to call themselves, and
increasingly linked to political balance and to their orientation in a
liberal sense. This produced some rather important changes within the AFL
organisation itself, wherein all tendencies towards bureaucratisation and
transfer of power to the top management of the unions were accentuated.
In January 1918, the United States Employment Service (USES) was born: a
federal employment office, it was responsible for regulating the labour
market. In general, its work was aimed at planning and organising a
distribution of the workforce more in line with the needs of production
sectors, thus remedying the chaos of the first year of war caused by the
anarchic race of entrepreneurs to hire labour. Additionally, the USES
supported and often directly organised new flows of labour, which should
recreate a large reserve of labour for the bosses since the reserve once
constituted by European immigrants – in addition to no longer being
available during the War – was no more able to be used as a means of
social stabilisation, because it had revealed itself to be the main
subject of the proletarian struggle.
In March 1918, President Wilson decided to transform the War Industries
Board (WIB) into an autonomous agency – answerable only to the President –
whose director had the immense power to prioritise certain kinds of
production and the distribution of supplies among the various sectors of
the administration. Additionally, within the WIB there was also a Price
Fixing Committee, which had to fix and control the prices of several
industrial products. Ultimately, the war had the effect of creating ideal
conditions for the self-regulation of industry, clearing any controversy
about trusts and realising on a large scale the interactions between state
and industry – a cooperation that the bourgeoisie is only able to
temporarily achieve when the survival of its class is in peril. Stalinist
statism was born in Washington.
The last among a series of agencies created by the administration, the
National War Labor Board (NWLB) was born in April 1918 to perform a dual
function: firstly, to be the central agency for mediation of labour
conflicts, coordinating the work of all the other operating mediatory
agencies, acting as the ultimate authority in this regard; secondly, to
set up and select new conciliatory structures for productive sectors not
already under con-trol. This was, in theory, solely with the war inter-est
in mind, but in reality these powers extended much further and, in this
way, the NWLB became a court of appeal for disputes not resolved locally.
The right of workers to organise themselves in trade unions and to deal
collectively, through their representatives, with employers was formally
recognised, and it was explicitly stated that employers could not fire
workers because they belonged to a trade union or because they carried out
legitimate trade union activities. The experiences of various agencies
were thus recognised, and in particular of the President’s Mediation
Commission, which entrusted a decisive role to collective bargaining for
the containment of conflicts, and which at the same time, however,
confined the possibilities of organisation and trade union activity of
workers within the boundaries of the “patriotic” choice of cooperation for
the elevation of war production. It is clear that the term “legitimate”
did not apply to all activities considered de jure legal; it was also a
political judgement: the door was left open to the repression of all
workers who did not respect the agreements and the social truce decided by
the unions. The right to collective organisation was, therefore, once
again subordinated to the condition that it had aims and methods matching
the official policy of the administration and its union allies.
Throughout the war period the claim on which the industrial proletariat
fought periodically everywhere was the eight hours. It was the insistence
of the workers for the eight hours, and their stubbornness to organise and
fight for them, that made this measure so general and widespread during
the war; the attitude of the NWLB and other agencies to adopt the
reduction of hours was the result of such pressures. The action of the
workers in particular was decisive in making even the most reluctant
bosses accept the eight-hour and other measures proposed by the tripartite
agencies.
Another focal point of the NWLB were the aforementioned shop committees,
having an unprecedented spread and beginning to play an important role in
obtaining the settlement of disputes directly in the workplace, on the
largest possible scale, through conciliation and negotiation carried out
personally by the workers and managements concerned. By the end of the
war, the shop committees had lost all semblance of being instruments of
workers’ struggle and organisation and became company unions – yellow
unions – the nucleus of the reaction of capital within what was designated
the American Plan; it was essentially the confirmation of the 1915
Rockefeller plan.
On the whole, the action of the tripartite agencies in the field of wages
did not produce great changes; for the workers the improvements in living
standards during the war were largely illusory. Although wages had
increased in monetary terms (compared with 1914) by 11.6% in 1916, by 30%
in 1917, and by 63% in 1918, this was hardly enough to keep up with the
pace of inflation; in fact, in real terms, wages increased (compared to
1914) by 4% in 1916, by 1% in 1917, and by 4% in 1918. The regulation of
working conditions by the government had not done anything other than
prevent a net devaluation of wages with respect to the increase in the
cost of living, and this result was also obtained above all through the
constant pressure exerted by workers with strikes or with the simple
threat of struggle.
The real and important changes taking place in the wage structure were
the increase in the real wages of less skilled workers and the consequent
decrease in the wage differences between the highest and lowest paid
sections of the proletariat; these were due to the fact that unskilled
workers – generally not organised in unions – had been able to take
advantage of a shortage of the reserve workforce (thanks to the
concomitance between a very high production demand, the employment of a
certain part of the workforce in the armed forces, and the virtual
disappearance of the high migratory flow) to impose their demands on both
the bosses and the government.
The bourgeois solution: patriotism–democracy–corporatism
The key feature of the last year of the war was undoubtedly the decisive
entry of the government into the field of relations between the
bourgeoisie and the industrial proletariat. The establishment of the
National War Labor Board and the War Labor Policies Board represents the
start of a labour policy aimed on the one hand at coordinating and
centralising the government’s conciliatory activity and on the other hand
at coordinating and – up to a certain point – planning production, mainly
intervening on wage and working conditions: an intervention caused by the
war contingency, first foreseen and then real, which, as indeed in other
countries in similar situations, requires perfect co-ordination of
resources to achieve the goal of victory. In these cases, the bourgeois
state does not hesitate to strike even the capitalists who do not comply
with its regulations, a characteristic that in peacetime is more typical
of manifestly dictatorial regimes, but even in that case the measure is
linked to some form of emergency because the bourgeoisie prefers total
anarchy of production, which it calls – rather pompously and crassly –
“freedom”.
It goes without saying, however, that it is the proletariat that bears
the brunt of emergencies and is made to sacrifice the most, by fair means
(patriotism, vague promises, propaganda) or by brutal ones (threats of
enrolment, repression, anti-union laws).
Indeed, the constitutive document of the NWLB gave official character and
maximum authority, to collective bargaining and its tools, strengthening
the boundaries within which it could develop, and thus constituting a
powerful deterrent against any temptation to break the balance that had
come to exist between the bosses, government, and conservative unions.
The consolidation of cooperation between these groups, and its
centralisation under the protection of the state and government, tended to
rather quickly assume authoritarian and orderly connotations. The wage
policy of government agencies, thus, while meeting some of the
proletariat’s demands in order to eliminate the most important causes of
class conflict – establishing minimum wages and tying numerical wages to
the trend in the cost of living (i.e., compensating for inflation) – also
traced precise boundaries beyond which workers’ demands could not go.
Beyond these borders there was only head-on confrontation with the state
apparatus and with the broad political and trade union alignment that
supported its policy.
It is good to remember that the spread and consolidation of collective
bargaining, however extensive, especially during the war, never undermined
or weakened the legal systems hitherto used to fight the unions. The
target of these means had simply been redirected away from unions and
towards radical organisations; they were far from done away with. The use
of injunctions and legislation against trusts for the persecution of
workers’ organisations, including conservative unions, would quickly make
a comeback in the post-war period. However, even if temporarily, a much
more solid institutional framework was established in the face of workers’
struggles, capable of intervening harshly in those conflicts where some of
the cardinal points of its activity were questioned; its greater
compactness accelerated the integration of trade unions and, as we have
seen, managed to overturn even the behaviours and choices most rooted in
their tradition.
All these factors led to a decrease in strikes in 1918, although if
compared to the pre-war years the figures still remained very high (in
1918 there were 3,353 strikes compared to 4,450 in 1917 and 1,593 in
1915), but above all they put the government in a position to put an end
to any social unrest that contested the guidelines of its policy. The
administration therefore decisively imposed itself both on those companies
(a few) that rejected the decisions of the NWLB by not accepting any form
of bargaining with their organised employees, and above all onto
struggling workers that broke the trade union truce and made demands that
the conciliation agencies refused to accept.
What actually took place with the war was the political and institutional
response given to the labour movement by big business. The dual policy
conceived by the NCF towards the organised labour movement, centred on
integration and cooperation with conservative unions and on the
simultaneous frontal battle against the anti-capitalist and radical
forces, reached its maximum extension with the world conflict and its own
temporary triumph. Around it a large unity of entrepreneurs and more
generally of the ruling classes was formed, as well as a certain consensus
of vast sectors of public opinion, favoured and nourished by the climate
of emergency and national unity that the war had brought with it.
Even the consequences of the practice of trade union agreements were, or
at least tended to be, of a dual nature: on the one hand, unions
accentuated their bureaucratic character, escaping more and more from the
control of their rank and file and thereby disposing of their character as
organisations of struggle; on the other hand, radical organisations and
spontaneous workers’ struggles outside “legal” bargaining were isolated,
marginalised, and repressed. But above all, the AFL and the unions were
seen as instruments for the maintenance of social peace in the factory and
as guarantors of equilibrium and consensus on a social level. As Commons
wrote: ‘American workers’ organisations, however aggressive they might
have been, were found to be the first bulwark against the revolution and
the strongest defenders of constitutional government.’
This betrayal did not earn the unions a safe place in the government
structure, but only a temporary political position that the post-war
period would cancel.
A synthesis, one hundred years later
Our Party’s research work on the American labour movement – ended so far
by the entry of the United States into the First World War on 6th April,
1917 – started with the seventeenth century, when the lack of resources
suited for robbing the continent forced England, a colonial power in the
region, to focus on the exploitation of labour to fill the coffers of the
bourgeoisie and aristocrats. This labour, necessarily, had to come from
outside – from Europe and Africa – consumed and replaced by ever new waves
of immigrants; this is one of the constants that characterises the
development of capitalism across the Atlantic, and especially of its
working class. Another constant of the class struggle in North America has
been violence: the United States can boast the bloodiest history of the
labour movement in the ranks of the industrialised nations.
After the war for independence from England had begun with a massacre of
proletarians in Boston, it was the workers of the cities who fought and
won the war while the bourgeoisie was divided into two camps, English and
American; the proletarians did not obtain any advantage except the
generalised economic development of the country, largely to the benefit of
the bourgeoisie. This national development was mainly built off of the
strong exploitation of the proletariat, including women and children,
while trade union associations were struggling to take off; the political
movement suffered the same fate, despite numerous attempts to create a
workers’ party, a problem that continued to exist throughout the
nineteenth century.
A peculiar aspect of the working class in North America was its constant
renewal due to the continuous migratory flows, which brought in the
country the English, Irish, Germans, in a first phase, and subsequently
emigrants from southern and eastern Europe. This phenomenon – accompanied
by the growing attraction exerted by the western territories, where it was
easy to obtain land to cultivate – meant a continuous renewal and
reshuffling of the composition of the working class, causing immense
difficulty in developing class consciousness and in the formation of
workers’ organisations, both economic and political. The trade unions,
which existed in large numbers since before the civil war, suffered the
repercussions of the frequent crises, being born and disappearing with
extreme ease.
The Civil War in 1861–1865 represented a further setback for trade union
formation, which was nevertheless followed by a period of considerable
activism due to the influence of the militants of the First International,
who imported the socialist doctrine from Europe.
In the years following the Civil War, in parallel with the tumultuous
economic growth, the working class grew both in number and combativeness,
and great national strikes took place. Towards the end of the 1970s, the
Knights of Labor developed, which – unlike trade unions – organised all
workers, including non-skilled workers, women, and children. Despite its
numerous successes, however, the leadership of the Knights of Labor did
not like the weapon of the strike, and this attitude in the long run led
to real betrayals of the struggling workers, and therefore to the decline
of the organisation in flavour of trade unions, now united in the American
Federation of Labor; which, in spite of the fact that its member unions
continued to keep unskilled workers away, began to rise rapidly in the
late 1880s.
Unfortunately, the trade unions – narrow and often localistic, aiming for
partial results for the working-class aristocracy – was not what was
needed in a country where a ravenous bourgeoisie would not retreat before
anything to impose its terms. Against the struggling workers, in addition
to the vigilantes of the company or rented from the Pinkerton agency, the
local militias were always present, while the judges, always ready to
submit to the demands of the bosses, did not spare injunctions and
sentenced the strikers to severe penalties, often involving imprisonment.
Not infrequently, in the most important cases, when all these resources
were not enough, federal troops intervened. In addition to this complex
bourgeois apparatus, there were numerous cases in which the AFL unions
themselves sided with the bosses, or even organised scabbing. Many
struggles were characterised by armed clashes, wounding and killing many.
With the rise of the new millennium, the interest of the AFL to present
itself as a bulwark for the survival of capitalist society is clear, just
as the Industrial Workers of the World was born with opposing union and
political aims. The latter represented an example of militancy and
dedication to the cause of the working class, but it was always a minority
movement due to its fusion of the party and the union form; nevertheless,
this did not prevent it from conducting great and hard struggles,
especially in the western side of the country.
The final part of the period treated in this work – ending with the entry
of the US into the first world war in 1917 – saw a growing attention and
presence of the federal state in trade union matters, with the intent to
eliminate the pressures of the most extreme sectors of the bourgeoisie and
to organise in a homogeneous way the conditions of exploitation of the
working class, in order to minimise the conflict between capital and
labour, with preparation for entry into war in mind. This was done by
peaceable means if possible, by ruthless ones whenever necessary. These
ruthless means were, among other things, a harsh persecution of all
non-cooperative trade union agitators and the outlawing of the IWW, even
with the enactment of special laws, such as the Espionage Act and the law
against criminal syndicalism.
State intervention also included a strong involvement of the
collaborationist trade unions – those of the AFL in particular – with
regard both to social peace and to the war effort, an involvement that the
trade union movement adhered to with enthusiasm, being almost integrated
into the state; it was so for a time in fact, but never in a completely
formal way. Nevertheless, in fact, the “responsible” trade union is
accepted by the bourgeoisie in its structure of government, a historical
event that will soon be imitated in all capitalist countries, either in a
disguised manner (democratic regimes) or in a directly institutional
manner (dictatorial regimes).
A peculiar characteristic of the class struggle in the USA, which
differentiates it from that which took place in Europe in the same years,
at least in the more industrialised countries, was the scarce penetration
of the socialist party into the class due on the one hand to the
theoretical and organisational weakness of the parties that succeeded each
other and on the other hand to conditions outside the class, such as the
great distances between industrial concentrations, the virulence of the
reaction of the bourgeoisie, the fluidity of class composition – often
multi-ethnic and multilingual, with successive migratory waves, each time
of proletarians less evolved than those already present (except in the
case of the migration of the Germans in the central period of the 19th
century, generally socialist workers); in fact, after the civil war and
especially between 1890 and the outbreak of the First World War,
immigration from Southern and Eastern Europe was almost exclusively
composed of former peasants, who required years of factory work to acquire
class consciousness. This, combined with the prevailing individualist
ideology – derived from a past of pioneers – conditioned the development
of the proletariat in both a political and union sense.
But it is clear that the most important, and most feared by the workers,
was the first type of injunction: it was not only issued on the basis of
the opinion of the entrepreneur and his version of the facts, but also had
the advantage of a very rapid procedure, so as to be a formidable
instrument of intervention against a strike or other action of struggle
from its very beginning. In this way, an enormous amount of power was
concentrated in the hands of judges whose conservative and pro-patron
positions cannot be doubted: it is enough to think, for example, that in
the federal courts alone, in the period between 1901 and 1921, the
magistrates granted an injunction at the request of the entrepreneur 70
times and refused it only once! So what was supposed to be an
“extraordinary remedy” under common law quickly became the “usual legal
measure” in the attack on workers’ struggles and their organisations, and
in fact it was used on the most diverse occasions.
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)
The Economic
and Social Structure of Russia Today
"Struttura economica e sociale della Russia d’oggi",
in
Il Programma Comunista
no. 10, 1955 to no. 4, 1956
Part One
Struggle for power in the two revolutions
Chapters 69 to 80
[
Full text
]
Summaries of two previous General Meetings
Bringing the words of communism back into the hearts of proletarians of every country
Video conference meeting, 26-28 May 2023 [RG146]
As arranged in good time and convened by the party’s international
centre, a general meeting was held from Friday, 26 May to Sunday, 28 May.
Individuals and local groups were connected by tele-conference.
At the Friday preparatory meeting, which was reserved for comrades, 11
countries were represented, at the Saturday and Sunday sessions, which
were also open to serious candidates, 13.
At this meeting, too, communication between the different languages was
felicitously resolved by providing those present with written
translations, in English, Italian and Spanish, of both the section and
group reports for Friday (also drafted and sent to the centre in advance)
and the extended reports for Saturday and Sunday. Further additions,
information, requests for clarification and proposals from individuals are
translated immediately. This is such an arrangement that all comrades can
fully get to know and appreciate our work everywhere and in its entirety.
The Party prides itself on the fact that all its activity, including
meetings – although it always requires great commitment and sometimes has
to deal with issues that are not easy and immediate to resolve – takes
place in total order and discipline. In a natural and spontaneous way, we
work together for communism, without having to rely on statutes, laws, or
regulations. Not because we would be attracted by the bourgeois myth of
freedom and anarchy, which is always individualistic, but because we can
go beyond these miseries, the party being a structure not traversed by
opposing class interests.
This is how it will be for the communist society, and before it, also for
the reborn party that is strong and world-wide.
Order of business
Friday:
- Report of the work of the groups and sections, coordination,
planning and organization of initiatives for the coming months
- Heresies
Saturday:
- The course of global capitalism
- New labour combativeness in the United States
- The working class in Latin America
- Marxist theories of crisis – theories of surplus-value
- The development of capitalism in Mexico
- The origins of communism in Turkey
- Still a neo-Ottoman Turkey
Sunday:
- Pension reform in France
- The civil war in Italy after the First World War
- The Party’s trade union activity in Italy
- The military question in the Russian Revolution – the second Kuban
Campaign
- The agrarian question: Historical background
- The origins of the Communist Party of China
The revolutionary doctrine of the working class on the historical failure of capital and the only redemption from the re‑emergence of the monsters of economic collapse shines brightly
Video conference meeting, 29 September - 1 October 2023 [RG147]
The general meeting of the Party was convened from Friday 29 September to
Sunday 1 October. Some 70 comrades from 10 countries were connected by
tele-conference.
As usual, the Friday session, reserved for militants, was devoted to the
organisation of the meeting and our general sessions, those on Saturday
and Sunday to the presentation of reports, to which those seriously
interested in engaging in our disciplined work are also admitted.
On Friday, the working groups updated each other on their many
activities. The comrades came to the meeting after they had worked
together, in growing understanding, even from distant countries, through a
daily correspondence that, in respectful, pragmatic, and dense ways, we
pride ourselves on resembling the lifelong correspondence between Marx and
Engels.
Out of this collective work come results perfectly in tune with Marxist
doctrine and our best Party tradition. These works and activities, in
terms of variety, consistency and coherence, given the minuscule size of
our membership, truly appear to be a ‘miracle’, materially determined by
the historical urgency of communism. It is made possible not by the
exceptional skills of today’s comrades, but by the organic method of our
work, free of the miseries of bourgeois civilisation: individualism,
infighting, and competition.
We listened to the reports of the local groups, of the progress in our
press initiatives, periodicals, and monographs, of intervention in the
trade unions in the various countries, of the possibilities of
disseminating our words, to be formulated ever better in relation to the
current monstrous convulsions of the dying world of capital.
Order of business
Friday:
- Well‑developed reports of the activity of each section and working
group
- The continuity between fascism and democracy in Italy
- The agrarian question in the feudal epoch
Saturday:
- Japan in the Economic Crisis
- On the history of the International Communist Party
- Theories of surplus-value: Robert Malthus
- Labour struggles in Latin America
- Democracy: false friend of socialism
- The Red Army in Germany, 1919
Sunday:
- The military question in the Russian Revolution – The first two
battles of Tsaritsyn
- Strikes and union activity in the United States
- The course of the world economic crisis
- Origins of socialism in the Ottoman Empire
- The Party’s trade union activity in Italy
- The recent coups in African states
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Report Abstracts
A – Theoretical Topics
Marxist theory of knowledge
Part III: Heresies
In the 11th and 12th centuries cities were born or reborn, particularly
in north-central Italy and Flanders, but also in northern France,
Burgundy, Provence, and Rhenish Germany. The pre-bourgeois merchant and
petty-nobility classes settled there, which first clashed and then merged
and gave rise to the bourgeoisie around the 13th century. In
central-northern Italy, in those same centuries, the Communes established
themselves, which tended towards real autonomy from the empire and
self-government, more markedly than in the other regions of the former
Carolingian Empire.
Together with the cities and the bourgeoisie, ‘heresies’ appeared, in an
incomparably more evident manner than in previous centuries. Such
religious conceptions, heretical or not, always had at their basis
‘millenarianism’, the expectation of the end of time, messianism and the
model of the first Christian communities, where all goods were pooled.
These conceptions did not constitute an ideology useful to the
bourgeoisie, but were often taken up by merchants and bourgeoisie as well.
To this we can give two explanations. The first, and most obvious,
consists in the dominance of a religious ideology that saw the return to
the origins as the only possible remedy against a present ‘degenerated’
due to the ‘corruption’ of the Church and the Empire, institutions that
should instead have marched on the tracks of divine Providence. This
ideology was shared not only by the bourgeoisie and the nobility, but also
by peasants and urban plebs.
The second explanation, which interests us most, is that the nascent
bourgeoisie felt, albeit confusedly, the need to oppose the entire feudal
system, which all millenarian and pauperist conceptions criticised. In the
absence of its own ideology, the bourgeoisie made use of such censures,
accepting along with them the conceptions of which they were part, whether
heretical or not.
The ‘dream-need’ of communism
Patarenes, Cathars, Waldensians, Spiritual Franciscans, Fraticelli,
Michaelites, Dulcinians: these were the main heresies between the 11th and
14th centuries.
In our press, we have dealt with the ‘
“dream-need” of communism
’.
Communism only became a real possibility with the rise of capitalism, when
communist sentiment was joined by communist reason, i.e., our scientific
historical programme, from the mid-19th century. Before then, communist
sentiment, which had been present since antiquity in opposition to
successive class societies, could only take the forms of millenarianism,
messianism and utopianism.
Generally, heresies were not born as such, and if doctrinal divergences
remained, they were often tolerated. When they did not obey the authority
of the pope and bishops, preaching new principles and creating new
religious orders without their permission, they ceased to be so.
In the 11th and 12th centuries, the Church’s attitude was not yet
unequivocal: measures against heretics ranged from conversion,
confiscation of possessions (certainly the most widespread measure) and in
the most ‘obstinate’ cases imprisonment and the death penalty.
There was a turning point with Pope Innocent III and his decretal
Vergentis
in senium
of 1199, which drew on Roman law, the codes of Theodosius
and Justinian, and the penalties then reserved for Manicheans. Heresy was
equated with the crime of
lèse-majesté
, and the crime against the
emperor became a crime against God. Conversely, crimes against the emperor
could be punished as heresy. Sometimes the common people of the cities and
the peasants killed and burned the alleged heretics before the Church
pronounced itself, but it is also true that the city institutions often
participated unwillingly in episcopal and inquisitorial initiatives
against heretics. This was sometimes out of sympathy for them, but mainly
out of fear of having their autonomy curtailed in favour of the bishop,
the Inquisition, and the Church.
The apocalypse
The term comes from the Greek ἀποκάλυψις (
apokálupsis
), meaning
manifestation, revelation, appearance, discovery. The Apocalypse of John,
written at the end of the 1st century, had this meaning. In later
centuries, the term took on the meaning of death, fear, and terror.
Today, the apocalyptic vision is greater in the atheist, rationalist
bourgeoisie than in those with religious beliefs. The bourgeois, whether
atheist or religious, feel the smell of death of their class that has no
future, because they cannot and do not want to believe in a future without
capitalism, without the bourgeoisie. ‘The world has no future’ – so they
say. Hence their black and gloomy visions of the future, populated by
nightmares of environmental, climate, food, nuclear, demographic disaster,
etc. Of course, all this for them is not due to the capitalist system of
production, but to the imperfection, or wickedness, of human nature.
Even science fiction creates worlds, beyond appearances, very similar to
the real one: not even in fantasy can the bourgeoisie conceive of a world
not shaped by capitalist relations of production.
The hope, the certainty in the ‘kingdom of heaven’, the future of the
subaltern classes that preceded the birth of the proletariat, were
inherited by the communists.
Communist sentiment and reason
All the groups of the medieval centuries in question, heretical and
otherwise, steeped in millenarianism, messianism, and Joachimism, may make
us smile at their ideological views, but they are on our side of history.
The term ‘
compagno
’, meaning ’comrade’, comes from the Latin ‘
con
panis
’ and indicates those who eat at the same table. This term was
commonly used by Franciscans.
It is only with the birth of capitalism and the reflection on it,
culminating in the
Manifesto of the Communist Party
of 1848, that
sentiment is united with reason and science, giving rise to our historical
programme. In the name of the common communist sentiment, with the various
Waldensians, Franciscans, and Dulcinians, we sit at the same table and
share the same bread, the fruit of the earth and human labour.
This same bread that capitalism turns into stone. The latter is not just
a metaphor: Marx himself describes how already in his time flour was mixed
with marble dust, to increase the weight of the bread, and thus sell it at
a higher price and profit.
The reality of capitalism is worse than any fantasy, and it is worse than
whatever “conspiracy” the bourgeoisie concocts to give an easy explanation
for what they do not know, cannot, and do not want to understand.
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* * *
Marxist crisis theory –
Theories of surplus-value
David Ricardo (cont.)
We resume the exposition of the chapter on theories of crises concerning
Ricardo, which will go into the study of the bourgeois conception of the
fall of the rate of profit, accumulation and consequently the crises of
overproduction, the utmost horror of every apologist, hired to deny the
catastrophe to which the abominable last classist mode of production
constantly tends.
The language used at this juncture by Marx is far from simple and
straightforward, but every great scientific achievement is dutifully
preceded by a good deal of effort, and this we require of the communist
reader whose brain muscles must train to learn the theory of the
liberation of the proletariat.
The amplitude of space devoted to Ricardo in
Theories of Surplus
Value
allows the same principles to be taken up again and again so
as to approach the crux of the matter in stages.
One of the most important points in the Ricardian system is the discovery
that the profit rate has a tendency to fall.
According to Smith, this would occur as a result of increasing
accumulation and the accompanying increasing competition of capital.
Ricardo retorts to this argument by stating that competition can equalise
profits in the different branches of production; however, it cannot lower
the general rate of profit.
The tendency for the rate of profit to fall is also derived from the
increase in the rate of land rent, but this tendency of rent does not
actually exist, and with that falls its effect on the fall in the rate of
profit.
Second, the research rests on the erroneous assumption that the rate of
surplus-value and the rate of profit coincide, and that therefore a fall
in the rate of profit corresponds to that of surplus value.
Ricardian theory thus rests on erroneous assumptions: 1) that the
existence and growth of the land rent are conditioned by the decreasing
fertility of agriculture; 2) that the rate of profit is equal to the rate
of surplus-value and can rise or fall only in inverse proportion to how
the wage declines or rises.
At this point, it is necessary to shift attention to the arena where all
the contradictions and antitheses of bourgeois production come to
explosion: the world market. Precisely because all the contradictory
elements reach their climax here, apologetics unleashes its worst weapons
and, instead of investigating what the contradictory elements that explode
in the catastrophe consist of, it contents itself with denying the
catastrophe and insisting, in the face of the regular periodicity of
crises, that if production conformed to the schoolbooks the end of
prosperity would never come. Apologetics, then, consists in the
falsification of the simplest economic relations and especially in holding
firm to unity in the face of antithesis.
In order to show that capitalist production cannot lead to general
crises, all conditions and determinations of form, all principles and
specific differences, in short capitalist production itself, are denied,
and in fact it is shown that if the capitalist mode of production, instead
of being a specifically developed, peculiar form of social production,
were a mode of production left behind its crudest origins and its
antitheses, its own contradictions, and therefore also its explosions in
crises, would not exist. The crises are eliminated through reasoning that
denies the first presuppositions of capitalist production, the existence
of the product as commodity, the splitting of the commodity into commodity
and money, the moments resulting from this of separation in commodity
exchange, and finally the relation between money or commodity and wage
labour.
What, then, are the conditions that make crises possible?
The general possibility of crises in the process of the metamorphosis
of capital is given, doubly so: insofar as money acts as a means of
circulation, separating buying from selling; insofar as it acts as a
means of payment, where it operates at two different moments, as a
measure of values and as a realization of value.
Crises that result from price changes that do not coincide with
changes in the value of goods.
The general possibility of crisis is the metamorphosis of form of
capital, that is, the temporal and spatial separation of buying and
selling.
Crises can also be generated by disproportionate transformations of
surplus capital in its various elements.
Crises arising from disrupted transformation of commodities into
money.
The final chapter addressed the contradiction between the development of
productive forces and the limitation of consumption.
Ricardo believes that the commodity-form is indifferent to the product;
further that the circulation of commodities is only formally different
from barter; that exchange-value is here only a transient form of material
exchange; that therefore money is simply a means of circulation.
He is forced to believe that the bourgeois mode of production is the
absolute mode of production, thus without any specific determination.
Thus, he cannot even admit that the bourgeois mode of production implies a
limit to the free development of the productive forces, a limit that comes
to light in crises.
It comes to light, among other things, in overproduction, a fundamental
phenomenon of crises, which Ricardo is forced to deny. The difficulties
Ricardo and others raise against overproduction rest on the fact that they
regard bourgeois production as a mode of production in which there is no
difference between buying and selling. Or as social production, such that
society, as if according to a plan, apportions its means of production and
its productive forces to the extent that they are necessary for the
satisfaction of its various needs, so that each sphere of production
touches the share of social capital required for the satisfaction of that
need.
This fiction arises from the inability to understand the specific form of
bourgeois production. And this misunderstanding arises from being sunk
into bourgeois production, understood as simply production, just as
someone who believes a particular religion sees in it simply religion and
outside of it only false beliefs.
Thomas Robert Malthus
The exposition of Malthus’ general theory concludes the series of reports
devoted to the analysis of the main exponents of ‘classical’ economics.
Malthus takes a position that tends to distinguish himself from Smith and
Ricardo, convinced that he is introducing innovative hypotheses and
alternative solutions into the economic debate. While economics would be a
science, it is closer to the moral and political sciences than to the
natural sciences, with the result that the theoretical scheme takes on
eclectic connotations. This position is well expressed by a quotation from
the
Principles of Political Economy
we have been reading. To
demonstrate this, it has been recalled that the theory of value is not
rejected by Malthus, but is considered only as a limiting case, that is,
valid only in the exchange between two commodities produced with capital
of equal organic composition, thus not being generalisable; on the
contrary, the general principle should be sought in the law of supply and
demand.
Malthus’ first concern is to erase the Ricardian distinction between
‘value of labour’ and ‘quantity of labour’. Since what a quantity of
labour is exchanged against, namely wages, constitutes the value of this
quantity of labour, it is a tautology to say that the value of a given
quantity of labour is equal to the mass of money or commodities against
which this labour is exchanged. This simply means that the exchange value
of a given quantity of labour is equal to its exchange value, also called
wages. But it does not at all follow that a given quantity of labour is
equal to the quantity of labour contained in wages or in the money or
commodities in which wages are represented.
According to Malthus the value of a commodity is equal to the sum of
money to be paid by the buyer, and this sum of money is valued by the mass
of common labour, which can be bought with it. But by what this sum of
money is determined, is not said. It is the vulgar representation of it in
common life in which cost price and value are identical; it is the image
of value proper to the philistine entangled in competition.
Seeking internal solutions within the classical school to the problems
posed by Smith and Ricardo, however, the transition to the vulgar
conception is made. In fact, he is forced to derive surplus value from the
fact that the seller would sell the commodity above its value, that is, at
a greater labour time than that contained in it. In this way, however,
what the capitalist would gain as seller of one commodity, he would lose
as buyer of another, in a reciprocal swindle.
Where then would the buyers come from who pay the capitalist the amount
of labour that is equal to the labour contained in the commodity plus its
profit? The only exception is the working class.
Since profit derives precisely from the fact that workers can only buy
back part of the product, the capitalist class can never realise its
profit by means of worker demand. Another demand is necessary. For the
capitalist to realise his profit would therefore require buyers who are
not sellers. Hence the need for landowners, those on pensions or
sinecures, priests, etc., with the result that Malthus champions the
maximum possible accretion of the unproductive classes.
Malthus’ theoretical conclusions are therefore in line with his own role
as apologist. Ricardo represents bourgeois production as such, as
signifying the freest unfettered deployment of social productive forces.
Malthus, too, wants the freest possible development of capitalist
production, produced solely from the misery of those who are its chief
architects, the working classes, but it must at the same time accommodate
the ‘consumption needs’ of the aristocracy and its branches in the state
and church.
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B - Historical Topics
Course of the global economy
The course of world capitalism
The past two years have been particularly chaotic.
After a prolonged period of deflation following the great crisis of
2008-2009, inflation has returned. Initially, production could not keep up
with demand, leading to congested ports due to a shortage of container
ships. Consequently, prices for transportation, raw materials, and energy
skyrocketed. This upward trend extended to grain prices, driven by a
combination of a general drought and China’s large demand to feed its
population and animal herds. The imperialist war between Russia and
Ukraine, which commenced in February 2022, temporarily sent both energy
and grain prices soaring.
What’s more, starting in March 2022, the Fed began raising interest rates
to combat inflation and restore a “normal” economic situation. This move
was followed by all other major central banks, excluding Japan. However,
after years of near-zero or even negative interest rates, such a hike is
not without consequences and is expected to contribute to increased chaos.
The incidental and underlying causes of the return of inflation have been
explained in previous reports. A further factor was the ‘just in time’
practice of companies minimising stocks in order to lower production
costs. Thus, when the period of Covid quarantine came to an end in most of
the big imperialist centres, in order to replenish themselves, companies
simultaneously issued orders to suppliers. The demand was so sudden and
colossal that they could not meet it. Similarly, the monopolistic shipping
companies, which had hitherto had a surplus of container carriers, were
unable to meet the demand and freight rates began to rise. The result was
a logistical bottleneck and a surge in prices.
Given their monopoly position, producers and multinationals in the sector
have seen speculation result in significant price fluctuations, yielding
stratospheric returns in both 2021 and 2022.
The suspension of gas and oil supplies from Russia imposed on Europe
under the pretext of the war in Ukraine sent prices soaring. These peaked
in July–August 2022; since then, they have fallen, the price of a barrel
of oil even dropping to $70 for a time.
Fearing a drop in prices due to the looming recession, OPEC+ initially
curtailed production by 2 million barrels in October, followed by an
additional 1.1 million in May, and has plans for another reduction of 1.6
million starting in July. Oil prices saw minimal impact from the
announcement, briefly rising to $80 before settling back below $72 by late
May. Natural gas, reaching a peak of €350 per MWh, subsequently retreated
to below 30, nearing pre-Covid levels of around $20 per MWh.
In addition to these immediate causes, there had been insufficient
investment in the past decade due to low prices. Today, as a result of the
sharp rise in prices, investments are being directed toward hydrocarbons,
and those in renewable energy are being reduced. The average cost of
producing oil offshore is $18, onshore $28. The rest is rent.
Despite the stronger dollar reducing import prices, inflation in the
United States surpassed that of Europe in 2021, prior to the Ukraine
invasion, and during the initial half of 2022. However, the situation
reversed thereafter. Following peaks in June 2022 for the U.S. and October
2022 for the Eurozone, inflation steadily declined, as evident in the
displayed graph at the meeting. In the United States, inflation began to
decrease earlier, despite ambitious investment plans, due to earlier and
more rapid increases in interest rates. Consequently, although both
regions are experiencing falling inflation, it is currently higher in
Europe than in the United States.
The decline in average inflation in the Eurozone hides a disparity
between countries. While Germany has traditionally been one of the
European countries with the lowest inflation, it is not surprising that
the country that drew on cheap Russian supplies ended up leading the
inflationary surge, followed by Italy and the United Kingdom. In France,
where Russian gas accounted for only 17 percent of imported gas, inflation
has remained lower; but here we still do not have a drop in inflation,
even though shrinking consumption is exerting deflationary pressure, as in
other countries.
Indeed, in addition to causing repeated banking crises due to the
devaluation of low-interest bonds, rising rates also induce a decline in
consumption, which in turn leads to a contraction in production, or at
least a sharp slowdown in its growth.
The most severely affected nations are in Asia, with Japan and Korea
leading the list, followed by Germany. The United States is also grappling
with a significant slowdown, despite substantial investments and efforts
to bolster household consumption. As depicted in a chart, Japan has been
in a continuous recession since September 2021. Germany, aside from four
months showing positive year-over-year increases, has consistently
experienced negative trends since September 2021, with annual growth
ranging from -0.1 percent to -5.5 percent.
The UK, on the other hand, has been in the midst of recession since
October 2021, which explains the numerous strikes and demonstrations that
are rocking the country.
Similarly, since September 2021, France has fluctuated between slightly
positive and slightly negative annual increases, with the largest gap
ranging from +1.8 percent to -2.8 percent.
Italy offers a slightly better picture, but since June 2022 negative
increases have exceeded positive ones.
Poland, which experienced a notable surge in production since becoming a
member of the European Union, has witnessed a slight downturn in the
industry over the past three months. This follows a marked slowdown
between October and December and is concurrently influenced by a decline
in international demand.
On the other hand, as seen in the graph, the drop in production in South
Korea is spectacular. While Germany is heavily dependent on world markets,
particularly those in China, Europe, and North America.
India seems to be escaping global deflation for now, with relatively high
increases. This is due to its poor integration into the world market and
the relative weakness of its industry relative to its demographic weight.
After a recession from August 2021 to March 2022, Brazil experienced a
slight recovery from July 2022 to November 2022. The -1.1 percent annual
decline recorded in December is indicative of a return to recession.
In Turkey, after a sharp slowdown in industrial production from July
2022, the increases have now turned negative, dropping to -7.5 percent by
February 2023.
Canada, a major exporter of commodities, particularly oil, has seen all
its increases remain positive, but slowing sharply since June 2022, from
5.8 percent annually in May 2022 to 1.7 percent in February 2023.
In conclusion, the steadfast old mole persists in its splendid subversive
efforts. The contradictions within the economic undercurrents intensify,
creating immense pressures that will inevitably rupture the capitalist
framework, akin to a colossal volcano unleashing accumulated forces.
Driven by necessity, the proletariat of the whole world will be on the
move again, directed by its class party, to resume its place in history.
Decline in inflation
The surge in interest rates has initiated a global economic decline,
bringing the world to the brink of a recession. Consequently, there has
been a noticeable decline in inflation. After reaching its peak in June
2022 at 9.1% in the U.S. and in October 2022 at 10.6% in Europe, inflation
dropped to 5.5% in Europe and 3% in the U.S. by June 2023. However, there
was a slight resurgence of inflation in the U.S., reaching 3.7 in August.
This phenomenon is attributed to the summer season and government
incentives aimed at stimulating industrial production and supporting the
development of new technologies.
In Europe, there are indications that the inflation disparity among
various countries is narrowing. In June, the highest recorded inflation
values were 6.3% in the United Kingdom and 4.9% in France. A significant
contributing factor to this trend is undoubtedly the escalation in fuel
prices, closely linked to the upward trajectory of oil prices.
In a bid to bolster oil prices, OPEC+ has consistently reduced daily
production. This strategy has led to a significant imbalance between
supply and demand in the third quarter, reaching 1.6 million barrels per
day – the highest level since 2021. To counteract this decline, countries
dependent on oil consumption are depleting their stocks. In August alone,
they withdrew 76.3 million barrels, bringing reserves to their lowest
point in 13 months. Consequently, this depletion has contributed to a
surge in prices, with Brent crude oil from the North Sea reaching $94 per
barrel in September 2023.
The escalation of prices cannot be solely attributed to certain
countries’ monopolies on hydrocarbon production. Another contributing
factor is the under-investment observed in the raw materials and energy
sectors over the past decade, coupled with speculation that identifies
opportunities for significant profits.
However, within the chronic crisis of the capitalist mode of production,
periods of recession are anticipated to be succeeded by a new wave of
deflation. However, within the chronic crisis of the capitalist mode of
production, periods of recession are anticipated to be succeeded by a new
wave of deflation. Central banks will then once again have to rush to the
rescue of capital to keep it from collapsing.
Industrial production
The general trend is not only moving towards a sharp slowdown, but even
toward recession.
In the United States, despite the government injecting hundreds of
billions of dollars to support industrial production and modernise it by
developing new technology branches, there has been a noticeable slowdown,
with growth approaching zero since December 2022. In terms of industrial
production, which includes shale oil and gas, there is only a slight
growth of 0.2% in the first eight months of 2023 compared to the entire
year of 2022. Conversely, when considering manufacturing production alone,
there is a decline of 1.7%, contributing to a 15-year decrease, bringing
the sector to -7.6% from its peak in 2007.
Although a few hundred billion dollars in government aid will allow
American industrial production to modernise and cope with the “energy
transition”, this will not prevent the spread of the historical crisis of
the capitalist mode of production.
Japan’s economy continues to trudge along. After a recovery of 5.1% in
2021, compared with -10.1% in 2020, and the very modest 0.2% growth in
2022, Japan will record -1.6% in 2023, bringing the level of output to
-19% from its peak reached in 2007.
South Korea, after years of relatively strong growth, averaging 2.8%, is
now in the midst of a recession with a 6.1% drop in industrial production
in the first seven months of the year! This figure is not to be dismissed
lightly; it represents a robust downward trend, signalling a formidable
crisis of overproduction.
Germany has been in recession since September 2021. Along with Belgium,
it was one of the few Western European countries to have surpassed the
high reached in 2008 but has now lost its gains.
From 2014 to 2018, Germany’s growth was weak (1.5% annual average) but
steady, while in the other Western European countries’ growth picked up
only during the two-year period 2017-18, marked by a favourable
international economy, and then declined from 2019 onward in all major
imperialist countries, including China. In the first seven months of 2023,
German industry recorded a very slight gain over 2022, by 0.21%. However,
the level of production fell 7.7% from its 2018 peak, while compared to
that of 2008 we have a minus 0.7%, in other words, German capitalism is
back to where it started.
The energy tariff choice made by the German bourgeoisie has been imposed
on all of Europe by aligning the price of electricity with the price of
gas. This ensures that German industry is not disadvantaged compared to
French industry, which benefits from cheaper energy due to nuclear power.
The French bourgeoisie agreed to sacrifice its own industry, seeking gains
from increased energy rent, and aimed to enrich itself at the expense of
the proletariat and petty bourgeoisie by privatising electricity
production. A growing mass of parasites bought electricity from EDF at low
prices to sell it at a higher price on the “free market”.
The German bourgeoisie for energy supply had bet on Russian cheap gas.
But after the invasion of Ukraine by Russian imperialism, Germany found
itself forced to buy oil and gas from other suppliers at high prices, thus
reducing the competitiveness of its industry in the face of China and the
United States. While the latter produces shale gas and oil, China buys
most of its hydrocarbons from Russia at a 30% discount. The Kremlin thus
becomes increasingly dependent to Chinese imperialism.
Similar to many older imperialist countries, Germany invests relatively
little in infrastructure and digital technology, and a portion of its
industrial apparatus is obsolete. This weakness undermines the
competitiveness of German capitalism.
For years, Germany has heavily invested in China to capitalise on the
booming market of the giant nation. The remarkable development of Chinese
capitalism in the first two decades of the century significantly
contributed to increasing the average rate of profit and offered a
gigantic market, thereby extending the life of the capitalist mode of
production for several more decades. This became possible because,
starting from the 1950s, Chinese state capitalism developed a formidable
industrial base with the necessary infrastructure that facilitated the
inflow of investments. German monopolies in the automotive, mechanical,
and chemical industries, by making massive investments in China, generated
fabulous profits for years. However, as Chinese capitalism, having
acquired know-how from the West, has seen its growth slow down, it is now
capable of competing in sectors like machine tools, chemicals, and motor
vehicles, which constitute the strengths of German capitalism.
China stands as Germany’s largest trading partner, with the interchange
between the two countries reaching $300 billion. However, Germany’s trade
deficit is steadily growing – a trend that could intensify with the
increasing competition from Chinese electric cars, whose prices are highly
competitive. Europe, and particularly Germany, lags behind in this sector
and struggles to compete with Chinese production. After years of
reluctance to invest in the production of batteries, magnets, and electric
motors, European industry, especially German industry, finds itself
fighting for survival. The lucrative car market could slip away entirely
from the middle class, as Europe proves incapable of producing vehicles
that can compete in terms of both price and quality. In its senile crisis,
German capitalism faces the risk of succumbing to far stronger imperialist
powers.
French capitalism, like German capitalism, experienced a slightly better
industrial output growth of 0.51% in 2023 compared to 2022, which had
witnessed a mild recession. However, the overall picture is even less
optimistic than in Germany. In comparison with 2019, production is 4.9%
lower, while it remains 12% below its 2007 peak. In other words, the level
of production is very close to that of 2009, during the worst times of the
overproduction crisis. Despite various measures taken, the older
imperialist states are evidently struggling to overcome the crisis that
occurred between 2000 and 2009.
The other great sick man of Europe is the United Kingdom. After the
strong recovery in 2021 from the fall of 2020, Britain has been in
recession again since October 2021. If we compare the index for the first
seven months of 2023 with those of 2022, we have a -1.4%, a decline that
follows that of -3.7% in 2022. If we compare the 2019 index with the high
reached in 2000, we find that in 2022 industrial output is still 6.6%
lower than it was 22 years earlier. Hence, British capitalism has been in
recession since the 2000s. But, as if by magic, the statisticians of the
British bourgeoisie have manipulated all the indices. If we take the
average of the first seven months of 2023, a year of recession compared to
2022, also in recession, we get a surplus of 1.5% over the 2000 index!
Thus, the British bourgeoisie would have us believe that British
capitalism is doing better than German capitalism.
Even this foolishness is for us a confirmation of their decadence: soon
the bourgeoisies of all countries will no longer be capable of producing
reliable statistics. Instead of industrial production they will rely on
the far more dubious GDP statistics.
The situation in Italy is not any better. Following a robust recovery in
2021 with a growth rate of +11.7%, which came after a decline of 11% in
2020, growth dwindled to +0.4% in 2022 before turning negative in 2023
with a decline of -2.7%, based on indices for the first nine months of the
year. Despite positive performances in 2017 and 2018, Italian capitalism
had managed to narrow the gap with the 2007 peak by a still significant
17.6%. Despite the post-pandemic recovery, industrial production is still
20% lower than it was in 2007.
In Poland, the accumulation of industrial capital has maintained a
notable average annual growth rate of 5.4% for a few years. This growth is
particularly remarkable when juxtaposed with the decrepit capitalisms of
the Old Continent.
But the with recession at the beginning of the year, production recorded
a 1.7% drop in the first six months.
World trade shows a slowdown in exports as of October 2022, but they have
fallen sharply for most major imperialist countries. The exports of China,
Korea, the United States and Belgium have decreased by about 10%. Those of
Japan by 5%. Chinese imports decreased 15% in July on a year-on-year
basis. As usual, the decline in imports is synonymous with a domestic
recession.
We can conclude that, as expected, after two years of growth in 2017 and
2018, global capitalism is once again in recession. It should be noted
that the old imperialist countries, with the exception of Belgium and
Germany, have never regained the levels they reached in 2007: all the
recovery of the last two years has been lost and the scale of production
in most of the major imperialist countries is now close to that of 2009!
China has also felt the impact of the recession, experiencing notable
bankruptcies in the real estate sector, such as Evergrande. The overall
scenario involves high unemployment rates, with at least 20% of young
people facing joblessness, a decline in consumption, and a return to
deflation. With this crisis, there is a looming threat to an entire sector
of China’s petty bourgeoisie and middle class, risking financial ruin.
On a global scale, the colossal debt of companies, households, and states
is accumulating, not to mention the devaluation of trillions of bonds.
Consequently, the situation is considerably worse than it was in 2009.
In the current state of affairs, as all capitalisms strive for survival,
we can anticipate an increasingly fierce trade war. However, a time will
come when the failure of a few major companies, subsequently leading to
the collapse of a large bank, will set off a chain reaction. The “every
man for himself!” approach will inevitably be triggered for the major
imperialist states, and some may be compelled to declare bankruptcy.
(back to
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*  *  *
Origins of the Communist Party of China
Submission to the Kuomintang at the Fourth Congress of the International
The orientation of the Fourth Congress of the Communist International on
the Chinese question, favouring the cooperation of the Communist Party of
China with the Kuomintang as the Communists began to enter in the
Nationalist Party, was formalized in a resolution of the Executive of the
International on January 12, 1923:
The only serious national-revolutionary organisation in China is the
Kuomintang, which has its base partly in the democratic-liberal
bourgeoisie and petty bourgeoisie, partly among the intellectuals and
workers.
Because the independent workers’ movement is still weak in that
country, the central task for China is the national revolution against
the imperialists and their feudal agents within the country; moreover,
as the working class is directly interested in the solution of this
revolutionary-national problem, while still remaining insufficiently
differentiated as a fully autonomous social force, the CEIC believes
that the KMT and the young CPC must coordinate their action.
Accordingly, under the present conditions, it is advisable for CPC
members to remain in the Kuomintang.
In this way, the International was taking up the proposal advocated by
Maring, who had already tried in the first half of 1922 to push Chinese
Communists to join the Kuomintang. The indication that the resolution gave
to the CPC therefore went beyond the need to “coordinate the action” of
the party with what was considered to be the only true
national-revolutionary organisation, and formalised what had in fact
already begun, with the first Communists beginning to join the Kuomintang
individually from the second half of 1922.
This tactic, as is also suggested in the first point of the resolution,
started from a misunderstanding about the nature of the Kuomintang, which
would have as its “base” partly the democratic-liberal bourgeoisie and
petty bourgeoisie, partly the intellectuals and workers.
Thus vanished the criticisms that only a year earlier, at the Toilers
Congress in early 1922, Zinoviev himself, alongside Georgy Safarov, had
made against the Kuomintang, also making the serious mistake of setting
aside what the theses of the Second Congress had indicated about the need
to ‘always preserve the independent character of the proletarian movement
even in its embryonic form’. Thus, the first steps were being taken toward
abandoning the defence of the party and its programmatic and
organisational autonomy, as the 1920 theses clearly stipulated.
Ties with the Kuomintang went beyond the internal aspect of cooperation
with the CPC, affecting also the diplomatic plane of relations with the
Soviet state. Toward the end of January 1923 in Shanghai there was a
meeting between Joffe, from August ’22 head of Soviet diplomacy in China,
and Sun Yat-sen, who, after his expulsion from Canton, was well disposed
to move his party “to the left” and to receive Soviet help against its
domestic and foreign rivals.
On the Soviet side, after unsuccessful negotiations with the Peking
government had been attempted in past years and a certain openness had
also been shown toward the warlord Wu Peifu, who had imposed in central
China and whose initial anti-Japanese attitude had resulted in a
reconciliation with the Anglo-Saxon imperialists, it began to point more
and more firmly to Sun Yat-sen as an aspirant to power in China. To make a
deal with Sun Yat-sen, Soviet diplomacy showed him the benefits of
aligning with the less powerful CPC, backed by the strength of the Soviet
state. This involved temporarily setting aside communist and revolutionary
objectives in China. Thus, on January 23, 1923 Joffe and Sun Yat-sen
drafted the following statement:
Dr. Sun Yat-sen maintains that neither the communist order nor the
Soviet system can at present be introduced into China, because the
necessary conditions for a successful establishment of communism or
Sovietism do not exist there. This opinion is entirely shared by Mr.
Joffe, who also thinks that the supreme and most urgent problem of China
is to realise national unification and achieve full national
independence; and, in connection with this great task, he assured Mr.
Sun Yat-sen that China has the warmest sympathy of the Russian people
and can count on the support of Russia.
The initial relations between the Russian proletarian state and
then-extant Chinese bourgeois governments, in a political context
characterised by the division of the country, became from 1923 onward an
alliance. Starting from the pretext that China was not ripe for communism
and the soviet system, that is, for the dictatorship of the proletariat,
it came to circumscribe the tasks of its revolution within a framework
compatible with a bourgeois order, of which Sun Yat-sen was the main
protagonist.
A Menshevik policy was in fact sanctioned insofar as, at that time, China
was not economically much more backward than Russia of 1917, where the
Bolsheviks had instead first fought for a radical, albeit democratic,
revolution led by the proletarians and poor peasants against all other
bourgeois and petty-bourgeois class parties. Reversing Lenin’s teachings
on tactics in so-called double revolutions and the International’s
indications for the proletariat of the colonies and semi-colonies, the new
course pushed the party of the proletariat into submission to the
bourgeois leadership.
In February 1923, Sun Yat-sen reclaimed leadership of the Canton
government, leading to strengthened ties between himself and Soviet
Russia.
That February of 1923 saw the suppression of the strike of the
railroaders on the Peking-Hankow line, the last of the wave of strikes
initiated in 1919 that had peaked in 1922. This event was read as a
confirmation of the weakness of the CPC and the need to bind itself to the
Kuomintang.
In reality this alleged weakness of the Communist Party of China did not
entirely correspond to the actual situation, for while at the beginning of
1923 the Party’s membership was effectively small, it was also true that
the Party had taken over the leadership of many trade unions which had
undergone great development precisely in the course of 1922, thus
establishing even then a notable influence on the young Chinese working
class, still uncontaminated by the contagion of that reformism and
opportunism which had already taken firm root in Europe. Moreover, during
1922 the proletarian movement had demonstrated a great capacity for
struggle, and the repression of February 1923 had caused only a momentary
interruption of the vigorous class action that would shortly thereafter
resume with superior force, culminating in the great movement of strikes
of 1925-1927.
But the Communist Party will arrive at this important stage of the class
clash in China with an organisation bound hand and foot by its alliance
with the Kuomintang.
The oil production table shows that the United States remains the largest
producer, with 562 million tons, compared to Russia’s 488 million and
Saudi Arabia’s 455 million. The latter two could, if they wanted, increase
their production, but they deliberately keep it low to keep prices high.
This is the law of monopolies. This explains the high price of both
gasoline and diesel as production is kept slightly below market demand.
This is clearly seen in the last column, where production is well below
the level reached in 2019, as increments, apart from Canada, range from -7
to -13 percent!
With the argument that the Communist Party was underdeveloped in China,
the same argument that was used in Europe to push Communist parties toward
“united front” tactics, it was denied the possibility of any autonomous
action within the Chinese revolutionary process. What’s more, according to
the executive of the Communist International, only the dissolution of the
Kuomintang could have led to the successful revolution of the bumbling
national bourgeoisie.
The Third Congress of the Communist Party of China, held in June 1923 in
Canton, then declared, ‘Everyone work for the Kuomintang. The Kuomintang
must be the central force of the national revolution and assume its
leadership’. This call for collective effort and support for the
Kuomintang emphasised that the Kuomintang should play a central role in
the national resolution and take charge of its leadership. Additionally,
it also approved, based on the January resolution of the executive, the
tactic of individual entry into the Kuomintang.
Such an approach meant the abandonment of the correct indication of a
radical, and, in perspective, communist revolution, and the capitulation
before the Chinese bourgeoisie that would lead to the bloody defeat of the
working class in 1927.
(back to
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*  *  *
The military question in the Russian Revolution
The second Kuban campaign
Denikin, after the conquest of Ekaterinodar, decided to cross the Kuban
River and conquer the strategic Stavropol on the edge of the Kalmyk
Steppe. He counted on the economic support of the anti-Bolshevik forces,
on the possibility of managing the autonomist thrusts of the various
Cossack groups, but above all on the crisis of the Red Army of the
Caucasus, repeatedly defeated even though numerically superior. This,
under Sorokin’s command, had 75,000 troops distributed among several
separate and independent armies, of which only the Army of Taman,
entrusted to Matveev, the most experienced and aggressive, was considered
to be the only one capable of regaining the initiative. Moscow was more
concerned about the new Tsaritsyn front against the Don Cossacks and the
Volga front attacked by the Czechoslovak army, so it considered the Kuban
a secondary front.
Matveev intended to unite his army with Sorokin’s through a long march
from the Black Sea coast towards Armavir. Also joining the Reds were
25,000 displaced persons fleeing for fear of fierce reprisals from the
whites. Denikin, sensing the danger of the joining, sent adequate Cossack
cavalry forces to interpose themselves between the two Red armies in the
Majkop district. However, they lingered in fierce and unprovoked
repression of 2,000 workers in the area who were slaughtered because they
were considered Bolsheviks. They were, however, caught between Taman’s and
Sorokin’s Armies, who on 11 September 1918 began a series of attacks on
the Whites, who were forced to retreat, leaving the Bolsheviks free to
make their way to Armavir, where they could rejoin. In revenge, the
Cossacks returned to Majkop and killed 4,000 civilians, who were later
found in mass graves.
Sorokin and Matveev’s units were reorganised into the 11th Army, placed
under the command of the undisciplined Sorokin. These were joined by the
newly elected Revolutionary Military Committee of the Front (RMSR), in
accordance with Trotski’s recent instructions on the reorganisation of the
Bolshevik army. Made up of military members of the army and political
members elected by the soldiers of the unit in action, this committee had
decision-making autonomy in all operational-strategic matters. In this
regard, the following passage from Trotski’s military writings was quoted:
Command, therefore, was somewhat split. The commander retained simple
military direction; the work of political education was concentrated in
the hands of the commissars. But the commissar was above all the direct
representative of Soviet power in the army. Without hindering the
properly military work of the commander and without under any
circumstances diminishing the latter’s authority, the commissar had to
create conditions such that this authority could never act against the
interests of the revolution.
Denikin, in order to annihilate the 11th Army once and for all, reacted
by setting up an encirclement of the Bolsheviks entrenched between the
Laba and Kuban rivers from five directions, with the aim of cutting off
all possibility of supplies and escape routes. An ambitious plan for his
limited forces, which resulted in three weeks of hard fighting at the end
of which Sorokin’s counterattack forced the Whites to give up and retreat.
The never-ending disagreements over the conduct of operations between
Sorokin and Matveev were rekindled when precise directives came from
Moscow to move immediately towards Tsaritsyn to bring relief to the Tenth
Army; while Matveev proposed the immediate transfer by rail to Tsaritsyn,
on the contrary Sorokin intended to descend to the east to control
Stavropol, then south to Grozny and the oil fields against the Terek
Cossacks, and finally to head for Tsaritsyn.
Sorokin had his plan adopted despite the protests of Matveev, who refused
to carry out his orders in the following days. Sorokin convinced the RMSR
to have him arrested and shot.
On 7 October, the same day as Matveev’s execution, Sorokin’s elaborate
manoeuvre to conquer Stavropol began, for whose defence Denikin sent
adequate reinforcements. The commander of the Steel Division, Zhloba, also
disagreed with Sorokin’s decision, disregarded his orders, and headed for
the quickest route to defend Tsaritsyn. This other disobedience triggered
strong internal disagreements, to the point that some members of the
Military Committee, falsely accused by Sorokin of treason, were arrested
and shot. The entire HQ fell into complete chaos to the point where it was
unable to issue safe and precise orders and did not even know the exact
location of its forces and the outcome of battles.
Denikin took advantage of the immobility of the 11th Red Army and the
weakening of some sectors and occupied Armavir. For fear of the sure
Cossack reprisals, the number of volunteers who joined the Red Army grew,
but the supply problem and the quality of the troops worsened.
Nevertheless, on 28 October, Taman’s Red infantry attack on Stavropol
caused the Whites to retreat more than 30 kilometres from the city, but
the Red HQ, still in chaos, did not take advantage of the favourable
situation to disperse Denikin’s formations, which received new military
supplies from the Allies, thus enabling a broad counter-attack to
recapture the strategic Stavropol, the last supply point for the 11th
Army. The situation worsened for the Bolsheviks when the surviving members
of the Military Committee declared Sorokin a traitor; he sought refuge
among the Stavropol soldiers he believed to be loyal to him. On 2
November, he fell into the hands of Matveev’s former fighters and was
immediately shot.
In the following days, Wrangel’s White cavalry, in repeated attacks
lasting days, succeeded in occupying the city while what remained of the
11th Army, on 20 November, began a long march across the steppes
separating it from Astrakhan. The white cavalry sent in pursuit had to
give up, mired in mud.
The causes of the defeat of that valiant army were twofold: lack of
supplies and chaos due to internal strife.
Having reached the cities of the lower Volga, the former 11th Army began
to reorganise, first having to beat Spanish flu and typhus.
End of the Kuban campaign
Denikin’s White troops also suffered heavy losses, including their best
commanders, in combat and from disease, but were still sufficient to
control the North Caucasus. By their contrast, the Red forces throughout
that vast region numbered as many as 150,000, of which, however, only
60,000 were available for combat. The main unit consisted of what remained
of Soroki’’s Army, Taman’s Army, and new volunteers from the region,
totalling 88,000 men and 75 cannons. This was arranged on a 250-kilometre
line, away from both Astrakhan and Tsaritsyn, its southern flank protected
by the weak 12th Army stationed at the foot of the Caucasus range.
The strategic command of the Caucasus-Caspian organised an offensive to
regain the lost positions.
On 28 December 1918, the 11th Army attacked the centre of the Volunteer
Army’s array of counter-revolutionary forces, with the aim of cutting the
enemy front in two and then outflanking the northern wing behind it and
preventing it from connecting with Ekaterinodar and the Don. Other units
attacked and bypassed the southern front in a similar manoeuvre; others
still were destined for the reserve and rear.
After violent and costly fighting, the Volunteer Army retreated to
Stavropol; in the confusion of the attack, a Taman division left a
dangerous gap that allowed Wrangel’s cavalry to mount a devastating
counterattack that forced the Soviet forces in that sector to retreat. The
initial deployment disintegrated, other isolated groups were attacked from
behind and forced to retreat. In the southern sector the Red offensive
also failed, leaving the 11th Red Army with heavy losses of manpower and
materiel. Demoralised and surrounded on three sides by the enemy with the
Caspian Sea behind, unable to reach Astrakhan in winter, it decided to
fortify on secure positions and reorganise to regain the initiative.
Wrangel’s cavalry with continuous attacks in different directions
prevented these manoeuvres to such an extent that by the end of January,
there was no longer a single Soviet front in the Caucasus, but isolated
sections of what had been the valiant 11th Army.
The Red HQ then decided to retreat to the Caucasus mountains counting on
the support of the local Bolsheviks. The retreat was severely hindered by
Wrangel’s cavalry, who with new attacks managed to break the army into
several sections that headed for different locations. Determined to
deliver the final blow to the retreating revolutionaries, the white
cavalry between 27 January and 6 February 1919, attacked the smaller
groups that were defeated and captured..
Red commanders were offered to join the whites and upon their refusal
were immediately hanged; as a rule, all Bolshevik political commissars
taken prisoner were shot immediately.
On 6 February 1919, Wrangel’s troops conquered the major cities and
reached the Caspian Sea with 31,000 prisoners, 8 armoured trains, and 200
cannons. The survivors of the 11th  Army, now without any possibility
of sustaining adequate fighting, undertook the difficult journey to
Astrakhan in terrible physical and atmospheric conditions due to the cold,
snow, and a typhus epidemic that even killed the commander-in-chief
Levandosvsky.
Of the initial 80,000 members of the 11th Army, only 13,000 reached
Astrakhan. In fact, an entire Bolshevik army group ceased to exist after
what was considered the heaviest defeat of the entire civil war.
The Caucasus Armies were reorganised and dislocated. The 12th Army was
sent in the direction of Chechnya, where the Bolshevik leadership of the
former 11th Army had taken refuge. With the exception of Chechnya and
Dagestan, the entire Caucasus was now under the control of the
counter-revolutionaries.
This victory, with the rear well secured, allowed the
counter-revolutionaries to bring relief to the Don Cossacks in trouble at
Tsaritsyn.
First battle, July–September 1918
The White General Krasnov was supported by the Krug, the Cossack
assembly, and especially by German economic and military aid. He had a
modest force of about 40,000 soldiers, 610 machine guns, and 150 artillery
pieces. Krasnov managed to extend his control over other Cossack
territories and on April 17, 1918, he founded the Don Republic, which
covered an area more than half the size of Italy, with less than 4 million
inhabitants, half of whom were Cossacks and the rest poorly supported
peasants and migrant workers.
The conquest of Tsaritsyn, an important railway junction connecting the
centre of Russia with the lower Volga and Caucasus regions, was vital for
Krasnov. From the south, most of the grain, foodstuffs and fuel travelled
there to the large Bolshevik-controlled cities of the north and all the
raw materials needed by the Soviet war industry and the Red Army, which
was engaged in defending the ‘encircled fortress’ of the revolution on an
8,000-kilometre front.
Moreover, the Cossacks, having conquered the city, would have been able
to join forces with those of Ataman Dutov, on the offensive on the Volga
450 kilometres further north. This conjunction would have facilitated an
advance on Moscow.
The plans drawn up by the White Cossack Denisov for the first battle for
Tsaritsyn envisaged an offensive in two directions: the main one directed
at the town; a second to contain any Red relief coming from much further
north.
The Soviet defences, distributed along the course of the Don, were
numerically equivalent to those of the enemy. But they were poorly
co-ordinated with each other and deployed mainly in defence of Tsaritsyn,
weakening the sectors north of the city.
The defence had armoured trains which, moving quickly on the outer
railway ring, could assist the Red defenders by cannonading the enemy; the
same was true of the river gunboats on the Volga.
The White attack in the north, characterised by the strong numerical
superiority and the lack of Red co-ordination, disrupted railway
communications with Moscow, isolating the city and rendering partial Red
successes in the central and southern sectors futile. The Red troops had
to retreat and re-deploy.
Strict decrees were issued against deserters, spies, and saboteurs, and
younger conscripts were mobilised and hastily trained.
On August 22, the reorganised Red Army launched a counter-offensive in
two directions, breaking the enemy lines with repeated bayonet assaults,
driving them back along the entire front. Further Red victories in the
following weeks pushed the Cossacks back across the Don to their original
positions, decreeing the failure of Krasnov’s first offensive.
The Cossacks suffered heavy losses: 12,000 dead, wounded, and prisoners;
but the revolutionary losses were worse: 50,000 dead, wounded, and
prisoners, despite taking dozens of machine guns, 27,000 rifles, 3,000
horses, and a large amount of ammunition in spoils.
A telegram from Stalin to Lenin on 6 September ends: ‘The enemy is routed
and retreating behind the Don. Tsaritsyn is safe! The offensive
continues’. Trotski, President of the Revolutionary Military Council (RVS)
and head of the Red Army, instead telegraphed Lenin with the request to
immediately recall Stalin to Moscow because: ‘The battle for Tsaritsyn, in
spite of superior forces, has in any case gone badly’.
In reality, the breakthrough had not taken place. Denisov, to ease the
pressure, had retreated slowly, engaging in only limited engagements that
succeeded in stopping the Bolshevik counter-attacks.
The great work of reorganisation of the Red Army directed by Trotski had
produced an efficient military and hierarchical structure organised by
fronts and armies with an audacious plan to reintroduce professional
soldiers into the Bolshevik army, the selection of whom was entrusted to a
special commission headed by Lev Glezarov. At the beginning of the civil
war, the officer corps of the Red Army consisted of 75% former tsarist
officers, often used as military specialists, a proportion that rose to
83% by the end of the civil war in 1922. It is recorded that out of 82
tsarist generals commanding in the Red Army, only 5 defected. If
necessary, their loyalty was secured by holding their families hostage.
Among the former officers who served the revolution and distinguished
themselves for their remarkable skills was Tukhachevsky, who joined the
Red Army in 1918. Due to his strategic and leadership skills, he was
entrusted with the command of the First Army in 1918 at the age of only
25.
Second battle, September–October
In the second half of September, Denisov launched a new offensive to
conquer Tsaritsyn in two directions: the first from the north-west,
entrusted to General Fitzhelaurov, with 20,000 men, 122 machine guns, 47
artillery pieces and two armoured trains, was to cut off communications
with the north. The second, entrusted to General Mamontov, was the main
attack from the west with 25,000 soldiers, 156 machine guns, 93 pieces of
artillery and no less than 6 armoured trains, means now considered
indispensable for operations in that vast theatre of battle.
The Bolshevik defences had about 40,000 men, 200 machine guns, 152
artillery pieces and 13 armoured trains. As organisation improved, a
network of fortifications was erected around the city with trenches and
other defensive works.
Stalin opposed Trotski’s plan to reintroduce former tsarist officers
before the RVS.
In fact, there were two military councils on the Southern Front: the
official one with Sytin and his General Staff, and Stalin’s with
Voroshilov. This produced a series of orders and counter-orders that
cancelled each other out and created havoc.
The White offensive was developed in the central and southern sectors in
order to cut the links to Astrakhan and the Caucasus, and wedged itself
into the Red defensive lines, coming within about 40 km of Tsaritsyn,
completely cutting off the Bolshevik’s extreme southern flank.
From October 8 to 11, the offensive intensified around Old Sarepta
(modern-day Krasnoarmeysky Rayon, Volgograd), on the southern segment of
the railway ring that encircled the city. For the counter-revolutionaries,
taking that station meant disrupting Tsaritsyn’s defence system and
opening up a wide gap in the southern sector.
The first decisive attack by Mamontov’s White Cossacks was blocked by
armoured train fire and repeated bayonet counter-attacks by Soviet
infantry so that the White General halted the operation while waiting for
reserves.
Stalin sent telegrams for reinforcements and provisions, but received no
reply; Voroshilov bypassed the military hierarchy and addressed Lenin
directly. On 15 October, Vācietis, the commander-in-chief of the Red Army,
answered him, placing the responsibility for the catastrophic situation on
Stalin, but because of the obvious state of danger, he sent him
reinforcements.
The Whites attacked between the Voroponovo and Chapurniki railway
stations. Here Voroshilov had a double line of trenches built.
On October 15, Mamontov launched 25 regiments. The well-organised Russian
defences stood firm against the first attack.
A few kilometres further south, at Beretovka, two Soviet regiments, made
up of young peasants who had just enlisted, mutinied, killed their
commanders, and went to meet the Cossacks. The latter mistook them for an
infantry assault and pelted them with fire while they were also hit from
behind by fire from the Soviet trenches.
In the meantime, the valiant Zhloba Iron Division arrived with 15,000
men, who, with forced marches, even at night, using a defiladed route,
managed to get behind the Cossacks and hit them near Chapurniki. The
Cossacks under fire from the front and from behind resisted for not even
an hour, suffering the loss of 1,400 men, 6 cannons and 49 machine guns;
the sector commander with his entire staff was taken prisoner, forcing the
Whites to retreat westwards.
October 16: Mamontov captured Voroponovo, albeit with heavy losses. The
Soviets, short of ammunition, were forced to stem the White advances with
repeated bayonet counter-attacks in order to re-establish themselves for
the defence of Sadovaya station.
The counter-revolutionary vanguards arrived, only 7 kilometres from
Tsaritsyn, at the last line of trenches and barbed wire near Sadovaya
station, where Voroshilov organised the last defence. He gathered all
available firepower, including armoured trains, and concentrated his fire
on the sectors where the enemy was advancing.
October 17: After the preventive bombardment ceased, the Cossack infantry
advanced according to their classic fighting pattern in orderly, compact
rows with their flags flying. When they reached 400 metres from the Red
trenches, they were hit by a wall of fire that created huge holes in their
tight ranks. The Red infantry came out of the trenches to pursue the
retreating enemy, who fell back to the west. The railway ring around
Tsaritsyn thus remained under Bolshevik control.
After this heavy defeat, Mamontov launched an attack in the northern
sector. The Whites bypassed Tsaritsyn from the north in two directions,
blocking river traffic on the Volga. Voroshilov, through rapid movements
along internal lines, succeeded in re-establishing the defences, which
were also strengthened by the arrival of experienced Latvian regiments
from the eastern front, which restored numerical supremacy in favour of
the Reds.
October 22: the advance towards Tsaritsyn from the north was halted and
the Whites pushed back about 30 kilometres from the town, allowing rail
links with the rest of Soviet Russia to be restored in November.
This notable defeat deprived Krasnov of any hope of linking up with
Dutov’s Cossacks, who were operating east of the Volga; the Cossacks’
morale plummeted as they became less and less motivated to fight far from
their home territories. The arrival of the cold season led to a gradual
slowdown in all operations.
November 11: The armistice stipulated by Germany signalled its defeat and
exit from the war, depriving the Cossack formations of all support,
forcing Krasnov into a more open approach towards Denikin’s Volunteer
Army, which was mainly supported by the British and French.
The failure of the Army of the Don at Tsaritsyn, although superior in
combat, was due to a number of causes: the strong attachment of the
Cossacks to their homeland often led them to desert when news of danger
came from their villages; they used their otherwise-effective cavalry in a
way ill-suited to the new modalities of modern warfare: not rapid troop
movements, but old-fashioned, reckless, galloping charges, which were
stopped by machine guns emplaced in fortified positions.
Voroshilov’s and Stalin’s decision to implement a mobile and active
defence, which let the Cossack impetus vent itself in bloody assaults and
then move on to bayonet counter-attacks, was possible because the fighting
quality of the Red troops improved markedly, battle after battle.
The rift between Stalin and Trotski, which came to constitute a kind of
‘military opposition’, was absolutely unconscionable in the midst of the
civil war for the defence of the proletarian revolution. Lenin, pressed by
both sides, finally called Stalin back to Moscow.
(back to
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)
* * *
The agrarian question
At these meetings a comrade presented the first chapters of a
report on the agrarian question in the Marxist tradition. It will be
structured as follows: Historical background; Capitalism and agriculture;
Economic theory of rent; The struggles of the labourers; today and
tomorrow.
Historical background
The slave mode of production
Let us first take up the texts of Marx, Engels, Lenin, Kautsky, and our
Party to recall what we have written so far on this vast and fundamental
subject.
We mentioned the agrarian question in the Athenian state, the essentials
of which Friedrich Engels well summarises in The Origin of the Family,
Private Property and the State. In his conclusion he states:
The debtor could count himself lucky if he was allowed to remain on the
land as a tenant and live on one-sixth of the produce of his labour,
while he paid five-sixths to his new master as rent.… If the sale of the
land did not cover the debt, or if the debt had been contracted without
any security, the debtor, in order to meet his creditor’s claims, had to
sell his children into slavery abroad. Children sold by their father –
such was the first fruit of patriarchal right and monogamy! And if the
blood-sucker was still not satisfied, he could sell the debtor himself
as a slave. Thus the pleasant dawn of civilisation began for the
Athenian people.
The mode of production in the Roman Empire also rested on agriculture. In
The Foundations of Christianity
, Kautsky writes:
The basis of the mode of production of the countries making up the
Roman Empire was agriculture; crafts and trade were much less important.
Production for self-consumption still predominated; commodity
production, production for sale, was still slightly developed. Craftsmen
and merchants often had farms as well, that were in close connection
with their domestic activities; their work went principally toward
producing for their households. The farm supplied provisions for the
kitchen and raw materials such as flax, wool, leather, wood, from which
the members of the family themselves made clothes, house furnishings and
tools. It was only the surplus, if there was any, over and above the
needs of the household that was sold. This mode of production required
private property of most of the means of production, including arable
land but not forest and pasture, which could still be common property.
It would include domestic animals but not game, and finally tools and
raw materials as well as the products made from them.
Possession of land, however, implies having the necessary labour power to
work it, without which nothing can be produced. Even in prehistoric times
we find among the wealthy the search for labour power in excess of that in
the family’s hands.
Such labour forces, however, could not take the form of the wage earner.
Early ones could be found, but rarely and temporarily, such as for
harvesting. An active family could easily procure the few means of
production needed for an independent unit of agricultural production.
Moreover, family and community ties were still strong, so that the
occasional misfortunes that could render a family landless were mitigated
by the help of relatives and neighbours.
Kautsky again: ‘Permanent labour forces outside the family could not be
obtained at this stage of history in the form of free wage labourers. Only
compulsion could supply the necessary labour for the larger landed
estates. The answer was slavery.’
The description of the period of the rise of the Roman Empire until its
dissolution continued, illustrating how the productive techniques and
tools gradually improved to obtain greater harvests, the exploitation of
peasants, and particularly of foreign peasants.
The phenomena of over-exploitation of land and the depletion of soil
fertility were described, phenomena which led to starvation of the farmers
themselves, and to the need for wars of conquest in order to always have
new land available.
At the conclusion of this first report we returned to reading Kautsky:
With the enormous human masses at its disposal the state built those
colossal works that still astound us today, temples and palaces,
aqueducts and sewers, and also a network of magnificent roads that
linked Rome with the furthest corners of the empire and constituted a
powerful means of economic and political unity and international
communication. In addition, great irrigation and drainage works were
constructed…. As the financial might of the Empire weakened, its rulers
let all these structures go to pieces rather than put a limit to
militarism. The colossal constructions became colossal ruins, which fell
apart all the sooner because as labour power became scarcer it was
easier to get materials for newer construction by tearing down the old
edifices instead of getting them from the quarries. This method did more
harm to the ancient works of art than the devastations of the invading
Vandals and other barbarians.
The feudal mode of production
A general picture of that socio-economic formation in Europe – before
turning to our Marxist classics – can be obtained in Georges Duby’s
Rural
Economy and Country Life in the Medieval West
. We read:
[I]n the civilisation of the ninth and tenth centuries the rural way of
life was universal. Entire countries, like England and almost all the
Germanic lands were absolutely without towns. Elsewhere some towns
existed: such as the few ancient Roman cities in the south which had not
suffered complete dilapidation, or the new townships on trade routes
which were making their appearance along the rivers leading to the
northern seas. But except for some in Lombardy, these ‘towns’ appear as
minute centres of population, each numbering at most a few hundred
permanent inhabitants and deeply immersed in the life of the surrounding
countryside. Indeed, they could hardly be distinguished from it.
Vineyards encircled them; fields penetrated their walls; they were full
of cattle, barns, and farm labourers.
All their inhabitants from the very richest, bishops and even the king
himself, to the few specialists, Jewish or Christian, who conducted
long-distance trade, remained first and foremost countrymen whose whole
life was dominated by the rhythm of the agricultural seasons, who
depended for their existence on the produce of the soil, and who drew
directly from it their entire worldly wealth.… Ninth-century Western
Europe was peopled by a stable peasantry rooted in its environment. Not
that we should picture it as totally immobile. There was still room in
rural life for nomadic movements.
Movements take place in the summer for pastoral transhumance or
transport on wagons; some periodically venture out to gather wild
produce, for hunting, or for robbery, in search of booty; a portion of
the rural population also participates in the “adventures” of war.
Newcomers were kept outside the ‘enclosures’, second-class inhabitants.
The inventories of the time categorised them precisely as ‘guests’,
whose presence was tolerated but who did not have the same rights as
other inhabitants. These strict legal limits prevented colonisation from
occurring in random order and curbed their displacement from their
habitat.
In the report, the comrade gave an extensive account of the peculiarities
that characterised agricultural production in feudal times, getting to the
other aspect that characterises the mode of production of the time: the
equipment used in working in the fields. It was noted that these
implements were mostly made of wood. There were two types of ploughs,
simple and mouldboard, mouldboard offering a decided advantage over the
simple one. It economised labour; the farmer in one pass was able to
sufficiently turn the land, thus aerating it and rebuilding the fertile
elements: periodic spading was no longer necessary. Moreover, the
mouldboard plough could also be used in heavy soils that were impractical
with the simple one. It made it possible to extend the cultivated area,
but it also demanded a far greater pulling force, an equipment of more
vigorous work animals.
Next, the poor use of metals was mentioned:
The labourers on the enormous property of Annapes, which reared more
than 200 cattle at the time, disposed of no more than two scythes, two
sickles and two spades if we count iron tools alone. And here, too, the
essential metal tools were used to shape the wood. For the rest of the
work it was
utensilia lignea ad ministrandum sufficienter
–
tools enough, but wooden ones – and they were not worth counting.
So, apart from cutting tools for sawing grass or wheat or felling trees,
all agricultural equipment, and particularly that for ploughing, was
normally made of wood.
Each estate possessed no more than a small workshop provided with iron
tools intended only for the manufacture or repair of other tools…. 
All the Carolingian documents place the blacksmith on an equal footing
with the goldsmith and picture him as the maker of unusual and precious
equipment. He is hardly ever to be found in the inventories of rural
estates.… It is the same in all the regions about which we have
information (except perhaps Lombardy where the
ferrarii
appeared
much more frequently in manorial inventories, and where on the estates
of Bobbio, Santa Giulia di Brescia and Nonantola many village tenures
supported regular rents in iron, and more precisely in ploughshares),
the impression remains everywhere the same, that very little metal was
used for peasant implements.
In ninth- and tenth-century Europe, even in large estates, the economy
had few wooden tools, but resorted to the labour of many individuals,
shaping the villages that became heavily populated to care for the
surrounding fields.
In contrast, wide uncultivated fringes remained, due to the lack of
implements capable of overcoming the nature of the thick, wet, and dense
soils. There were also vast areas of free vegetation useful for feeding
livestock, hunting, and gathering wild products.
To increase labour productivity, mills were introduced:
One can see quite clearly how the manors were equipped with milling
machinery.… Installing a water mill was certainly a costly and delicate
matter. The arrangements of canals, and trans-porting, fashioning, and
setting in place the millstones meant a substantial investment and the
maintenance of the conveying machinery also required regular
expenditure. Even so, such contrivances were by no means unusual on
great estates in the ninth century and it appears that the number of
water-driven mills was rapidly increasing around Paris: of the 59 mills
recorded in the polyptych [an inventory of the Abbey’s assets compiled
between 823 and 828 by Abbot Irminone] of St. Germain-des-Pres, eight
had just been constructed and two recently renovated by Abbot Irminone….
The estate mills [were] available to the local peasant farms in return
for payment…. [In] one royal manor in northern Gaul, Annapes…as much
grain was brought to the manorial granges from its five mills and
brewery as was harvested on the entire arable area of the estate…. In
spite of taxes and the pre-emption on their own harvest, peasants found
it to their advantage to make use of the manorial mills.
It was recalled how bread was the staple food, even in the less civilised
regions of Latin Christendom.
We then went on to describe how agricultural production was organised,
which can be summarised in these three points:
1) In the texts, the description of harvests and sowings and, more
frequently, that of the grain benefits owed by the peasants, prove that,
generally, the fields, both those of the peasants and those of the lords,
produced not only winter grains, but also spring grains, and in particular
oats.
2) The arrangement in the agricultural calendar of
corvées
for
ploughing required of the serfs by the lordships indicates that the
ploughing cycle was frequently ordered according to two sowing seasons,
one in winter, the other in summer or spring.
3) Ploughing plots in large estates often appear in groups of three; for
example, in about half of the domains of the Abbey of
Saint-Germain-des-Prés described in the Irminone polyptych, surveyors
counted three, six, or nine lordly fields. This arrangement suggests that
cultivation there was organised according to a ternary rhythm.
(back to
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*  *  *
Rise of the labour and communist movement in the Ottoman Empire
Documentary evidence of the existence of currents and parties with left
positions is limited to a period of twenty-five years, from 1909 to 1934.
But it is a period marked, in the Empire first then in Turkey later, by
several decisive historical events: the 1908 revolution, the Italo-Turkish
War, the Balkan Wars, the First World War, the Armenian genocide, the
emergence of the national independence movement against the occupation of
parts of Turkey by the Entente, Mustafa Kemal’s victory against aggression
by Greece and against internal reactionary uprisings, the exchange and
transfer of Greek-Turkish populations, and finally the consolidation of
Kemalist power and the defeat of the left wing of the Communist Party.
For this reason, the comrades presenting this report have first sorted
the documents by period, to deal later with the particular circumstances
under which the individual documents they present were written.
Introduction
It is appropriate to provide the reader with some background information
on the history of the Ottoman Empire, which expanded over a wide
geo-historical region.
Factories began to spring up in the cities. The growing power of the
non-Muslim bourgeoisie led even in remote villages to the establishment of
schools to teach positive science. New ideologies such as liberalism and
nationalism spread. In turn, peasants began to immigrate to the cities,
forming most of the new working class.
Soon the rulers of the Ottoman state were faced with an alarming
situation. At first, they tried to suppress this undesirable development
of new social classes, namely the bourgeoisie and the urbanised
proletariat, by repression, but this only fanned the flames of nationalism
and led to wars of national liberation, many of which succeeded in
creating new nation-states, as happened with the independence of Greece in
1829, Bulgaria in 1876 and Serbia in 1878. The number of non-Muslims, such
as Armenians, Greeks, and Jews, who remained within the social structure
of the empire, and especially their relative weight within the newly
formed industrial bourgeoisie, remained very significant.
Western capitalism joined local demands for reform.
At the same time, the Ottoman bureaucracy began to call for a solution to
the Empire’s unsuccessful attempts over the previous centuries in
competing with European states: modernisation of technology, ways of
conducting business, industry, and science. They too began to advocate the
introduction of capitalism into the Empire, and even bourgeois democratic
reforms.
After the 1830s, private industries quickly began to replace artisans
even among Muslims.
Facing pressure from the bourgeoisie, bureaucrats, and officials, in 1839
the monarchy issued the Imperial Edict of Reorganisation. This ushered in
the reform period, in Ottoman Turkish ‘Tanzimat’, which culminated in 1876
with the declaration of the First Constitutional Regime.
The appearance of capitalist relations resulted in the emergence of harsh
struggles between the young proletariat, formed by the urbanisation of the
peasant masses, and the newly emerging bourgeoisie. The first protests in
the factories began as early as 1800. Initially, the most common action of
the labour movement in the Empire was sabotage of the means of production,
but at the end of a few decades such actions were superseded by strikes.
The first recorded strike occurred in 1863, in the Ereğli coal mines, but
this weapon of struggle did not spread until the early 1870s in a wave of
labour unrest that culminated in the strikes of 1876. At this time
industry was developing rapidly and many technicians and skilled workers
were sent to Turkey from countries such as England, France, and Italy.
Foreign workers soon took to striking together with the natives. The
natives, still lacking experience in labour struggles, benefited from the
strikes of the European workers who worked alongside them.
Sultan Abdulhamid II, who would rule the empire with an iron fist for
decades, responded to the struggles of 1878 with a wave of repression that
for a time caused a decrease of strikes. However, it could not prevent in
the long run the entrenchment of the labour movement.
The chronology prepared by the speaker highlights the stages of this
development.
(back to
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*  *  *
On the history of the International Communist Party
The series of reports concerning the history of our party is intended to
present it in its continuity and uniqueness.
A peculiar characteristic of ours is that we have no kinship with anyone;
in fact, those who appear closest are actually the furthest away, and we
have always been very careful not to assimilate or approach any other
so-called related political grouping.
The year of our current Party’s birth is unquestionably 1952. But, as we
have written, this is not a turning point or an adjustment of course, but
rather to pick up the thread of the past by welding it to the present and
projecting it into the future.
It is certainly no coincidence that in every Party publication we never
omit to print our ‘distinction’: ‘The line from Marx to Lenin, to Livorno
1921, to the struggle of the Left against the degeneration of Moscow’,
etc., etc. In fact, we fully claim our deep roots and recognise as an
integral part of our tradition all the work and theoretical elaboration of
the Marxist Left already present and formed within the PSI since the dawn
of the 20th century.
Nonetheless, our current party has very different characteristics from
those of the parties of the time, due to a historical selection that draws
on both the victories and defeats of the international workers’ movement
and its parties.
If until 1914 the two souls, the reformist and the revolutionary, could
coexist within the same parties and the 2nd International, it was the
outbreak of the imperialist war that was to separate and define the
irreconcilability of the two opposing tendencies: on the one hand the
social-democracy, at the service of capital and their respective bourgeois
homelands, on the other the revolutionary, for the sabotage of war, its
transformation from war between states into war between classes, the
violent seizure of power and the establishment of the dictatorship of the
proletariat.
The same happened after the experience of the Stalinist
counter-revolution. Throughout the course of the Second World War, almost
the entire proletarian movement suffered a blatant subservience to the
interests of capitalist preservation, signing the liquidation, officially
and unofficially, of the Third International.
No political organisation other than our own current, anchored in the
Italian Communist Left, was able to take the criticism of Stalinist
degeneration all the way. Consequently, the leadership of the
international proletariat can only be taken by the unique, unitary
International Communist Party.
When one speaks of the Italian Communist Left in most people’s minds, one
thinks of its abstentionism. We can say that this was, at the time, a very
important aspect from a tactical point of view, but not one of principle.
On the contrary, until then the Communist Left had elaborated other
fundamental characteristics of internal party life and relations between
comrades: organic centralism, rejection of any kind of personalism, the
possibility for each comrade to participate in Party work.
In this regard, the extended report will include extensive quotations
from our classic texts, demonstrating how the current party is in perfect
continuity with the tradition of the Left.
Organic centralism
. As far back as 1922 we proposed abandoning the
organisational concept of ‘democratic centralism’ and replacing it with
the more appropriate ‘organic centralism’.
The communist parties must realise an organic centralism which, with
the maximum compatible consultation of the base, ensures the spontaneous
elimination of every grouping tending to differentiate. This is not
achieved by formal, mechanical hierarchical prescriptions, but, as Lenin
says, with just revolutionary policy. (
Lyon Theses
, 1926)
Function and role of the leader in our party.
Leaders, too, are a product of the party’s activity, the party’s
working methods, and the trust the party has attracted. If the party, in
spite of the variable and often unfavourable situation, follows the
revolutionary line and fights opportunist deviations, the selection of
leaders, the formation of a general staff, take place in a favourable
manner, and in the period of the final struggle we will certainly not
always have a Lenin, but a solid and courageous leadership. (6th ECCI,
1926)
Discipline and fractions.
The appearance and development of fractions is indicative of a general
malaise in the party, and a symptom of the non-responsiveness of the
party’s vital functions to its aims, and they are combated by
identifying the malaise in order to eliminate it, not by abusing
disciplinary powers to resolve the situation in a necessarily formal and
provisional manner. (
Platform of the Left
, 1925)
We see no serious drawbacks in an exaggerated preoccupation with
opportunist danger…. Whereas very grave is the danger if on the
contrary…the opportunist disease spreads before one has dared to
vigorously sound the alarm in some part of the party. Criticism without
error does not harm even the thousandth part of what error without
criticism harms. (‘The Opportunist Danger and the International’,
1925)/p>
How then was it possible that the party that was born in Livorno, founded
on similar foundations, later degenerated? The answer is that it was not a
national problem, but an international one, and the parties of the 3rd
International were spuriously born for historical reasons, from
more-or-less left-wing splits of the old social-democratic parties, from
unions between non-homogeneous groups, and even the Communist Party of
Italy could not completely escape this defect of origin. The degenerative
process also depended on the weaknesses that had historically
characterised the process by which the new international organisation was
formed, which, when the revolutionary ebb occurred, affected its ability
to react to the unfavourable situation.
The report then went on to expose the stages of the degeneration of both
the international revolutionary communist movement and the Communist Party
of Italy.
The tactical errors of the International led to a long series of defeats,
starting with that of the revolution in Germany, which was paid for with
the impossibility of winning over, after Russia, another large country to
the revolution, of decisive importance for the development of world
revolution.
The degenerative phases of the 3rd International could not but be
reflected within the Communist Party of Italy.
After 1924, the Ordinovist group, having taken over the leadership of the
party, began a violent campaign against the Left. In preparation for its
3rd Congress, in Lyon in 1926, the voting procedures imposed were so
fraudulent that the Left, which a year earlier at the Como conference had
been joined by almost all delegates, was confined to a derisory minority.
At the same time in the International and the Russian party, the
Stalinist counterrevolution was now registering its final victory over
what remained of the leftist and internationalist revolutionary tradition.
Through falsification of documents, fabrication of plots, and other such
expedients, the new Russian party leaders managed to get the better of the
real leaders of the Russian revolution. The avenues of deportation opened
up to Trotski and the other comrades as the Russian party and the
International, by now Stalinised, imposed as a condition for remaining in
the International the acceptance of the new opportunist theory of
“Socialism in one country”.
In the Party born in Livorno in 1921, by then on the verge of complete
Stalinisation, true internal repression had begun against exponents of the
Left since 1925: expulsions, suspensions, denigrating press campaigns,
blatantly provocative actions, became ordinary practice.
More than one bourgeois historian or presumed revolutionary strategist
has highlighted the “inability” of the Italian Communist Left to take
advantage of the auspicious occasion and form an international opposition
in competition and opposition to the degenerate Moscow opposition. Indeed,
that was what some comrades and leaders of the international extreme left
groups expected. Is the Left wrong in stubbornly sticking to its
principles? This will be the theme of the next reports.
(back to
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)
Current Events
C – African blowback of the crisis in the imperialist hierarchy
A rapid succession of coups over the last three years has reshaped the
political landscape of sub-Saharan Africa, affecting numerous countries in
that part of the continent where France’s economic, political and cultural
influence was greatest. There is talk these days of a probable deadly
crisis in what was christened ‘
Françafrique
’ in the mid-1950s
The coiner of this term was Félix Houphouët-Boigny, who served as
president of the Ivory Coast for 43 years, from the moment of
independence. The African leader most obviously subservient to the old
colonial power, with which he wanted to maintain close commercial ties
that propitiated a period of relative economic prosperity, passed under
the publicist label of the ‘Ivorian miracle’, intended to give the term
Françafrique
a positive meaning.
However, this concept, not incorrectly understood as a legacy of colonial
rule that had only recently ended (the independence of most African
countries dates back to 1960), acquired negative connotations over time
that far outweighed the slavish optimism of the Ivorian president,
especially after the Ivory Coast’s little “miracle” came to an end in the
late 1970s as a consequence of the slowdown of the cycle of capitalist
accumulation in the old metropolis.
Highlighting some unmentionable aspects of the relations of the Elysée
Palace with the 14 former overseas territories on African soil was an
essay published in 1998 entitled
La Françafrique, le plus long
scandale de la République
by the economist François-Xavier
Verschave. In this book, beyond the usual jeremiads about the lack of
democracy in African countries, some characteristics of the relations
between the old colonies and the former metropolises were rather
realistically identified. Françafrique was defined quite correctly as:
a nebula of economic, political and military actors, in France and
Africa, organised in networks and lobbies, and polarised around the
monopolisation of the two rents: raw materials and public development
aid. The logic is to prohibit initiative outside the circle of the
initiated. The system recycles itself in criminalisation.
While we have been witnessing for many years the Elysée’s growing
agitation over the fate of its African sphere of influence, a turning
point in this regard can be established with the war conducted in 2011 in
Libya by NATO and strongly desired by the French president at the time.
What was loosely perceived as the first step in a campaign of colonial
reconquest (the term ‘neo-colonialism’ is inadequate for us to describe
the phenomenon given that it is about imperialist spheres of influence in
which the movement of capital prevails over military occupation and the
institutional presence of colonial metropolises), was even then a sign of
the difficulty for France to sustain the contest between powers for the
control of African markets.
A misleading interpretation sees the Libyan enterprise as an ‘error’ from
which serious consequences for French policy in North Africa and
sub-Saharan Africa would follow. But the premises of that mistake were all
in the relative decline of France as a power and the appearance on the
scene of new competitors whose lesser capitalist maturity was compatible
with greater economic vitality.
The overthrow of the decades-old Gaddafi regime was seen by Sarkozy as an
opportunity to get his hands on the Libyan oil rent by beating the
competition, in the case of Libya primarily the Italian one, and to
strengthen his control over neighbouring Niger, at that time one of the
main suppliers of uranium needed by the French nuclear industry.
On the other hand, France is also not spared by the greed of the
imperialist metropoles attempting to appropriate control of energy
resources, and their associated rents to compensate for the meagre profits
resulting from their industrial decline.
If, in our Marxist view, politics is presented as a condensate of
economics, we find nothing particularly strange in observing how weak
economies, in which capitalist modernity has disrupted traditional social
organisation, starting with the introduction of extractive industry,
correspond to weak political forms.
The states of sub-Saharan Africa came into being on the basis of borders
arbitrarily drawn according to the interests of the former colonial
powers, on territories that were heterogeneous in terms of physical
geography, fragmented from an ethnic and linguistic point of view, and
characterised by very disparate historical traditions.
Their perennial political instability poses a problem of understanding
and analysis that does not seem within the reach of bourgeois publicists.
Take for instance the raging Jihadist guerrilla warfare of the last
fifteen years.
The prevailing narrative on this persistent scourge in sub-Saharan
African countries seeks to explain the difficulties of local governments,
and their Western allies, especially in religious motivations, with vast
territories falling under the military control of the faithful who fly the
flag of fundamentalism. As usual, the depiction of the bourgeois world
turns reality upside down to rest on its head. It describes with the
façade of affiliation with internationally known acronyms of radical
Islamism the subjection of individuals from marginalised social groups and
peripheral rural communities to fierce economic and military pressure by
armed militias or regular troops from states that in other ways prove to
be fragile and shaky.
While the most trivial publicity explains everything by “Islamic
fanaticism”, the proliferation of armed groups is more often than not due
to the attempt of local communities to organise self-defence against the
predatory attitude of private paramilitary groups deployed in defence of
mining concessions and the regular forces of the various states.
Multinational corporations, in order to control the areas where the riches
of the subsoil are extracted, increasingly make use of mercenaries. Often,
the affiliation of local armed groups to international jihadism comes only
later.
But explaining these aspects of the economic and political life of
sub-Saharan Africa is too embarrassing for the partisan and lying
information of the capitalist metropoles: better a convenient depiction of
a fanaticism moulded in Islamic schools and by preaching mullahs, all of
which, when they exist, are presented as epiphenomenal manifestations of
the devastation previously developed in the social structure.
The civil war in Mali, which broke out in early 2012 and has been ongoing
ever since, has had catastrophic effects for France’s sphere of influence
in the region. In this conflict, which has torn the north of the country
apart and pitted Tuareg independence formations and jihadist militias
against the central power, the ineffectiveness of an armed intervention
with two French-led military missions, Operations Serval and Barkhane,
could be measured.
The French failure became manifest with the two coups in Mali less than a
year apart. The first was in August 2020, when Malian President Ibrahim
Boubacar Keita was overthrown by the army, which formed a National
Committee for the Health of the People to manage a ‘transitional phase’.
Nine months later, in May 2021, the army, impatient with the hesitancy of
the transitional authorities in managing the internal war, carried out a
second coup d’état in which Colonel Assimi Goita, who had already led the
first coup, solidly assumed the leadership of the country. The military
junta let Russian mercenaries from the Wagner Group into Mali, while
French troops had to leave the country.
A similar script played out in Burkina Faso where an equally rapid
succession of two coups resulted in the rise to power in September 2022 of
army captain Ibrahim Traoré who, like his Malian counterpart, had played a
leading role in the first coup. As a pretext for the second pronouncement
of the armed forces, the ineffectiveness of the fight against the jihadist
militias is also mentioned.
In reality, discontent due to the dramatic rise in food prices
contributed to the coup plotters’ action. Social instability is also
determined by the high number of internal refugees from areas under the
control of jihadist groups. To support the war effort, the junta has made
agreements to buy weapons from Turkey to supply drones, and with North
Korea, and admits the possibility of using Wagner Group mercenaries.
Relations with France have deteriorated and Ouagadougou has denounced the
military treaty that has bound it to the former colonial power since 1961.
The state budget could not support the regime’s military commitments
against the jihadist militias, and so new taxes were resorted to,
aggravating the plight of a proletariat mostly forced into destitution and
increasingly having to bear the burden of the “war on terror”.
Last March, the
Unité d’action syndicale
(UAS), the country’s
primary trade union centre, denounced the compulsory enrolment in the army
of many of its members and demanded their immediate release. Meanwhile,
for their part, the authorities claim to have recruited 90,000 men for the
‘
Volontaires pour la défense de la patrie
’ (Volunteers in defence
of the fatherland, or VDP) corps.
Burkina Faso’s new strongman poses as a continuation of the work of
Thomas Sankara, the military man who led the country for four years in the
1980s, flying the flag of national sovereignty in what turned out to be a
rather unrealistic manner, clashing with France and ending up murdered by
his deputy, Blaise Compaoré.
The figure of Sankara is still today passed off as a sort of popular
hero, and the fact that he advocated an improbable third-world socialism
has aroused the sympathy of those who, even in the oldest industrialised
countries, are in search of substitutes for the proletariat and go so far
as to place their expectations for change in the military caste of the
peripheral countries. Even today there are those who, in a logic
completely alien to the tradition of the workers’ movement, find pretexts
to appreciate the career military man in power as long as he is willing to
launch populist and demagogic buzzwords.
Ibrahim Traoré has made a career out of the “fight against terrorism” and
domestically pushes the accelerator on the militarisation of society,
aware that the enlistment of volunteers exerts a strong appeal on the
masses of youth, who are the vast majority of the population and who have
little chance of finding employment and see a prospect in the profession
of arms. Once again, war becomes a way to sculpt society in the image and
likeness of capital, framing the workforce with military discipline,
creating proletarian reserve armies by depopulating rural areas,
intercepting investment and aid from external imperialist powers
interested in supplanting rival imperialisms.
It is no coincidence that last July Traoré met with Putin near St.
Petersburg, while the head of the Burkinabè junta himself met with a
Russian military delegation at the end of August to strengthen cooperation
between the two countries. Meanwhile, Russia is confirmed as the main
supplier of arms to the Sahel countries.
Completing the picture of the decline of
Françafrique
was the
coup d’état in Niger on 26 July. The overthrow of President Mohamed Bazoum
was once again justified by the military, which set up the ‘National
Council for the Protection of the Homeland’, ‘because of the deteriorating
security situation and bad governance’.
To speak of ‘bad governance’ in one of the poorest countries in the world
where, for what bourgeois statistics are worth, the illiteracy rate among
the adult population exceeds 70% and where life expectancy at birth is
around 61 years, sounds like an understatement. A semi-populated country
until just a few years ago, two-thirds of whose territory lies in the
Sahara desert, it has seen that third of fertile or semi-fertile land
progressively eroded where, since the 1970s, severe drought waves have
undermined agriculture, leading to significant social setbacks. In Niger,
over 80% of the population still lives in rural areas where a subsistence
economy prevails and transhumance is widespread in livestock farming.
In the countryside, there never existed a definite ownership of land and
the right of possession was based on a customary rural code in which,
until recently, the so-called right of the axe was recognised, whereby the
first person to come on a piece of land took possession of it only for
clearing it. In the many decades of independent Niger’s history,
successive governments have failed to establish definite criteria for the
allocation of property rights. This indefinite ownership of land, in an
era of recurring droughts and climate change, has made the settlement of
disputes between neighbours and between them and nomadic herders more
complex and uncertain.
Complicating matters is the demographic dynamic of a country that has
seen its population multiply by ten since 1950, from 2.46 million to over
25 million today. With the world’s highest fertility rate, albeit slowly
declining, still above 7 children per woman, at current rates Niger’s
inhabitants will reach 35 million by 2030. The country’s population is now
the youngest in the world; 49% of it under 15 years old.
In addition to the low level of urbanisation, the low level of
industrialisation is evidenced by an electricity network that reaches less
than 20% of the population. The lack of modernisation of the road network,
especially in the north of the country, is also due to the lack of aid
from international donors who, it is said, do not want to make it easier
for migrants to cross the desert. On the difficult and unsafe routes
across the desert, illegal trafficking of drugs proliferates, including
cocaine, cannabis, and opioids, especially tramadol, destined, after
crossing Libya, for Europe and the Middle East.
The lack of investment in infrastructure has also slowed down the
exploitation of the country’s mineral resources. The auriferous ones are
very important. Uranium mining in the Arlit area of Agadez province by the
French company Orano (formerly Areva) has declined from its peak in 2007
due to lower global demand after the Fukushima disaster. An attack by
al-Qaeda in the Maghreb in 2013 forced a costly reinforcement of the
security apparatus. These factors have eroded the mining income and for
several years now have led France to diversify uranium supplies needed for
its mighty nuclear industry by increasing imports from Kazakhstan, Canada
and Australia.
That the French bourgeoisie in recent years has shown little inclination
to invest in the former colonies is due to the fact that capital, by its
nature anarchic, betrays the love of the fatherland as soon as the mirage
of higher profits and fabulous rents appears in new lands. This explains
how the gradual dissolution of Françafrique is a process to which the old
metropolis also contributes. Exemplary in this respect is the liquidation
in 2022 of the French group Bolloré’s African logistics empire, with the
sale of Bolloré Africa Logistics to the Italo-Swiss group Mediterranean
Shipping Company (MSC) for over €5 billion. The company employs over
20,000 people and is present in 46 African countries where it controls 42
port terminals, railways, warehouses, etc.
In Niger, the company was involved in the never-completed project of
building the country’s only railway, which was to connect the capital
Niamey to Cotonou, a major port city in Benin. It was a pharaonic project
involving more than 1,050 kilometres of railway, the most important link
between Niger, a landlocked country, and the Gulf of Guinea. But the
project was only realised in a small part and stalled in the middle of
last decade. Niger thus remains without adequate connections to the
Mediterranean and the Atlantic.
The partial loss of interest of French capital in Africa is
counterbalanced by the growing penetration of China, which has meanwhile
become the second largest investor in Niger. The crisis in the uranium
sector is matched by a growth in the oil industry, with China among the
main investors. Among the Dragon’s projects is a 2,000-kilometre pipeline
that is intended to connect Niger’s under-exploited oil fields with the
ports of Benin and thus with international markets.
This passing of the baton in Africa, and therefore also in Niger, between
France and China is a process that has been going on for quite some time
if already ten years ago in an article in our newspaper, we wrote:
In the last decade, all the countries defined as French-speaking Africa
have suffered the economic penetration of China, which has taken
advantage of the relative withdrawal of French capital, which has
preferred to go and invest in areas with a higher profit margin, such as
Asia. Chinese competition became more and more pressing with huge
capital investments, export of very cheap goods and specialised teams to
command the construction sites of Chinese firms. Roads and bridges,
railways and various infrastructures have paved the way for Chinese
‘neo-imperialism’ in those lands that for centuries were the exclusive
preserve of Western powers and in many cases exclusively of France.
(‘Mali and the Ivory Coast – Economic and Military Battleground between
Imperialisms’,
Il Partito Comunista
no. 358).
Last July’s coup saw the emergence of US-trained soldiers, led by the
head of the presidential guard Abdourahamane Tchiani, who overthrew the
civilian government at a time when there was a heated struggle within the
establishment for the leadership of PetroNiger, a state-controlled company
recently created by the deposed president Bazoum that seems to have good
future prospects for development. We do not know precisely whether there
is a strong link between the internal dispute within the Niger bourgeoisie
over the national oil and the maturation of the coup; however, it remains
quite likely that this aspect was at least one motive that the military
coup plotters considered when they decided to take action.
The consequences of the regime change on relations with France were not
long in coming. Since the first days after the coup, demonstrations in
support of the military – we do not know to what degree orchestrated by
the new regime or how spontaneous these are – have targeted French
diplomatic missions and interests in Niger. French soldiers are preparing
to leave the country, while diplomatic relations between the two countries
are close to breaking down.
The United States, which has a military presence in the country, does not
seem poised to withdraw. The Biden administration did not explicitly
condemn the coup and did not even call it what it was so as not to be
forced to issue sanctions against Niger. The US base in Agadez, one of the
most important for the deployment of drones, will probably continue to be
operational and should have been the subject of negotiations during the
meetings between Victoria Nuland, the Deputy Secretary of State under the
Biden administration, and the ruling junta in Niamey. The agreements
reached probably envisage the relocation of the 1,100 US military
personnel to the Agadez base alone after the abandonment of the one in
Niamey, held by the Americans together with French soldiers. In the
meantime, the Italian military presence with 350 soldiers does not seem to
be questioned by the Niger junta, and neither is that of the German
military advisers.
But the picture brought about by the wave of coups that upset old
balances in sub-Saharan Africa still seems to be evolving. The Elysée
Palace’s plan to restore the deposed Niger president to power by means of
an intervention by the countries of ECOWAS, the Economic Community of West
African States, has been frustrated by the opposition of Mali and Burkina
Faso, which have entered into a joint defence treaty with Niger.
It is, however, a fracture that brings the final collapse of
Françafrique
closer, an event that far from ending the struggle for the division of
African resources and land between the major imperialist powers, would
only intensify it. In the future evolution of political arrangements and
alliances in this region of the world, it is all too easy to foresee the
development of another gigantic fault zone in a geo-historical area that
is increasingly crucial for inter-imperialist rivalries.
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Still a neo‑Ottoman Turkey
As the economic crisis deepens and the government’s prescriptions for
dealing with it fail, at least partially, the Turkish bourgeoisie found a
diversion in the demand of democratic freedoms, the protest against
cronyism and generalised corruption. A heterogeneous set of grievances
against the ruling party came to the attention of the voters: disrespect
for civil rights, women, minorities, Kurds, homosexuals, and trans people;
lack of merit in access to state organs and offices; hostile stance toward
Western-style secular democratic principles; arbitrary arrests of
opponents and journalists and subsequent court convictions.
Some space has been given to the oppression of the working class, but in
the enfeebled forms in which it is denounced by every bourgeois opposition
force, insisting on the lack of safety in the workplace, wages below
subsistence and the legally established minimum, the legal presence of
child workers in factories, etc.
The opposition had therefore declared this year’s elections crucial, that
“the people” would finally make the “right decision” and that “Turkey”
would thus emerge from this difficult situation. Many leftist parties
adhered to this rhetoric.
Thus was presented a “polarised” society in which, even significant sections of the working class, there an expectation that “this time” opposition could achieve real electoral “victory”. “turkey” would return to path parliamentary democracy and solve its problems peacefully, according democratic standards european state become country ‘better able compete with world’.
The Turkish bourgeoisie and the elections
Instead, this election round has also been yet another showdown between
bourgeois gangs. All indications are that there will be at least a
temporary compromise between the warring factions, with the coven of the
victor Erdoğan trying to grab the lion’s share.
One of the internal contrasts within the Turkish bourgeoisie is between
the organisations of the industrial bosses. The large industrialists were
traditionally organised in the TÜSİAD (Turkish Industry and Business
Association), founded in 1971, with more than 2,100 members representing
4,500 companies, which fuel 80 percent of foreign trade, employ 50 percent
of the workforce, and pay 80 percent of business taxes. In contrast, a
new, relatively small but rapidly growing business league is organised in
the MÜSİAD (Independent Industrialists and Businessmen’s Association),
founded in 1990, with 13,000 members controlling 60,000 companies. The
TÜSİAD declares itself secular and pro-Western, the MÜSİAD Islamist and
pro-government.
On the external front, TÜSİAD favours close relations with the West,
particularly the United States, while MÜSİAD supports the current
government’s policy of aspiring to become a relatively independent
regional imperialist power.
In the early years Erdoğan was supported by the TÜSİAD, and openly
supported EU membership. But after the time of the Gezi movement in 2013,
Erdoğan and the TÜSİAD drifted apart until Erdoğan accused the TÜSİAD of
siding with the opposition. Erdoğan, in addition to being a politician, is
the head of one of the largest “families” in Turkey today, with some clout
in the newly organised bourgeoisie in the MÜSİAD.
Between the “old” and “new” bourgeoisie, the major accusation boils down
to that of “unfair competition”, of the high-flying bourgeoisie, favoured
by the government, often employing immigrant workers at very low wages and
in poor conditions, while large industries are mostly obliged to hire
within the framework of legal regulations. Another issue is over
government policies on interest rates.
A fragile compromise
Despite what he said in election propaganda, Erdoğan’s first move after
the elections was to extend an olive branch to the big bourgeoisie. Mehmet
Şimşek, known for his closeness to strict Western-style economic policies,
was appointed powerful minister of treasury and finance: a clear attempt
to soften the financial markets. In addition, controversial figures such
as Interior Minister Süleyman Soylu found no place in the cabinet.
The TÜSİAD immediately accepted Erdoğan’s generous offer, calling for
stability and reforms. Some journalists and opposition economists went
further and, endorsing Mehmet Şimşek’s appointment, agreed that ‘we are
all in the same boat’.
With the resolution of the crisis in Turkey, the U.S. in particular will
not hesitate to normalise relations with Erdoğan, in exchange for Sweden’s
permission to join NATO, and perhaps with the delivery of F-16s, denied
after the purchase of the Russian S-400 anti-aircraft weapon system.
All these facts suggest that in all likelihood a compromise has been
reached on Turkey and its place in the imperialist hierarchy.
But the economy remains in severe crisis, inflation is still over 40
percent annually, and a significant recovery in accumulation is certainly
not in sight. In short, it would be wrong to think that the warring
parties have permanently resolved their differences.
Elections are always against the interests of the proletariat
None of the parties that participated in the elections promised lighter
working conditions and hours, or wage increases to counter inflation. No
party called for more rights for oppressed minorities or refugees fleeing
war.
When considering who has been harmed and who has benefited from the
common positions of the opposing parties, it is clear that everyone is
actually on the side of the bourgeoisie and never the workers.
Democracy is a system in which there is no place for parties opposed to
the bourgeoisie. The participation of communists in elections, besides
being of no effectiveness toward the seizure of power by the working
class, is now also to be ruled out as a propaganda forum, because of the
serious misunderstandings it inevitably engenders in the class about the
revolutionary aims of the party.
Bourgeois democracy throughout the world today no longer contains any
progressive aspects. All the more so for workers and the oppressed.
Even these elections in Turkey, beyond the seemingly red-hot climate
between the two camps, were kept within the democratic institutional
framework and did not have the disruptive, perhaps even bloody, outcomes
that a propaganda interested in dramatising that filing ritual was hinting
at. In fact, the aim of the ruling class is to shift the attention of
proletarians to interclass issues and to prevent any detailed and
non-generic reference to the working-class condition, even by artfully
emphasising and magnifying the minimal and insignificant program
differences between the parties in the field.
Turkey’s elections proved once again that the bourgeoisie will, behind
the democratic mask, as long as it can, never give up an iota of state
repression. Turkey’s oppressed groups (women, Kurds, homosexuals, trans
people, immigrants, etc.) know this: genocide, torture, massacres, forced
migration, executions, unjust sentences, and similar disgusting and
monstrous events are not a thing of the past!
As much as the bourgeois states try to hide it, as much as they deny it,
these abominations continue to be committed.
The Kurds, women, the discriminated, who pay the price for these
cruelties, will never be able to mitigate the oppression they suffer
through the instrument of elections. Before the elections, the parties of
the bourgeois left claimed that ‘you can solve your problems by voting for
us every four years’. This attitude only reinforces the illusion that the
solution lies in voting rather than in subordinating every social demand
to the strength of the working class, its independent organisation,
unionisation, and strikes, and not the illusion that it is easier to
achieve socialism through reformism, “common sense” and an electoral
victory.
The will of capital will always come out of the ballot box. It will not
be education that will open voters’ eyes. Nor will their status as
exploited wage earners or oppressed minorities. The dominant ideology will
always be the ideology of the ruling class. Only in the Communist Party is
the condemnation of bourgeois society consciously guarded.
The idea that the young proletarian and oppressed generations will move
toward communism solely due to the effect of social evolution and the
increasingly cosmopolitan environment, access to more information thanks
to the Internet, and the rapid increase in the number of students in
universities and the migration from rural to urban areas is completely
wrong.
In fact, these elections have shown that right-wing tendencies are on the
rise even in the younger generation. Many, including young people,
complain that the current government is not racist enough, that immigrants
are the cause of their problems.
Once again it has been shown that the road to workers’ liberation does
not go through bourgeois democracy.
The true Communist Party does not give up its principles and is not
afraid to express them, lest it lose supporters or, worse, votes! The true
Communist Party has nothing to do with bourgeois democracy, which stinks
like a sewer, and where we’re fed filthy lies of all kinds.
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The selfless proletarian fight against pension reform in France
The Intersyndicale weakened, then ended the struggle
In
Il Partito Comunista
no. 422, we presented an account of the
great anti-pension-reform movement in France, focusing on the internal
reactions within the CGT. Its 53rd congress took place in March, during
which there was a considerable strengthening of the internal opposition,
characterised by opportunist positions in the trade union-political field,
which coexist with a certain confrontational character with respect to the
collaborationist leadership. Here we update on the evolution of the
resistance movement and its conclusion.
The apex of the movement was in March 2023, as the discussion of the
pension reform in parliament approached, then following its approval, in
order to obtain it, the government resorted to Article 49-3 of the
Constitution (an institution similar to the “vote of confidence” in
Italy), which allows parliamentary discussion to be circumvented.
On Tuesday, April 4, 2023, the heads of the eight trade unions forming
the Intersyndicale coalition had met to prepare for the following day’s
meeting with Prime Minister Elisabeth Borne at the Hôtel Matignon (the
Prime Minister’s residence in Paris), agreeing only to discuss withdrawal
of the pension reform bill. But the PM reiterated the government’s
determination not to back down from its positions.
The eleventh day of national strike mobilisation took place on Thursday
the 6th, still with a high turnout: 2 million demonstrators according to
the trade unions (500,000 according to the Ministry of the Interior),
400,000 of them in Paris. There were also fewer strikes, especially in
Parisian public transport (RATP) and trains (SNCF).
Electricity and gas workers went on strike for a few hours and blocked
production, but in workplace assemblies, fewer and fewer renewed their
strikes from day to day. The same happened at the petrochemical refineries
and terminals. Workers at some of these plants had only a few days earlier
been condemned and forced back to work by the courts.
The Intersyndicale’s tactics, with individual national mobilisation days
falling one or more weeks apart, remained the same from the beginning of
the mobilisation on January 19. Given the strength expressed, it was seen
by its most combative component as a way not to grow but to dampen and
eventually extinguish the movement.
The day after the meeting with the government, the Intersyndicale meeting
set Thursday, 13th April as the twelfth day of a national, multi-industry
strikes and demonstrations. The date was chosen because on the following
day the Constitutional Council would rule on the legitimacy of the reform.
But what did the Intersyndicale expect from this institution of the
bourgeois state? Heedless of the discontent expressed in the
demonstrations, the Council, composed of 9 “wise men”, has, of course,
validated the social security reform in its entirety and has not even
given its approval to the requested popular referendum, viewed favourably
by the Intersyndicale and called for by France Insoumise.
The popular referendum is always an instrument to be rejected by class
unionism because it subjects the interests of the workers also to the vote
of the classes who also guarantee their privileges on the exploitation of
the wage-earners. Inter-class democracy, the founding principle of the
bourgeoisie, is the opposite of the workers’ struggle, which is based on
the opposite principle: the realisation that only by the force of strikes
can the ruling class be bent, which is otherwise in a strong position
vis-à-vis the working class and in its ability to divide it. That is why
the workers must refuse to subordinate their living conditions to the
opinion of the members of the parasitic and exploiting classes!
Following the verdict of the Constitutional Council on April 14, the
Intersyndicale decided on a new day of united mobilisation for May Day.
International Workers’ Day thus became the 13th mobilisation. Although it
did not reach the figures of the best days (3.5 million demonstrators
according to the Intersyndicale on March 7, 23, and 28), it brought
together 2.3 million demonstrators throughout France (782,000 according to
the prefecture). The last united May Day march in France was in 2009. In
Italy, we are still waiting for the leaders of the rank-and-file unions to
make the first one!
The Intersyndicale met again on May 2 and agreed to a new day of action
on June 6. This was because on June 8, a small parliamentary group, the
LIOT (
Libertés, indépendants, outre mer et territoires
), made up of
independent and Overseas Territories MPs, was to present a bill to the
National Assembly to repeal the reform and confirm the retirement age of
62. The Intersyndicale has thus subordinated the movement to the deadlines
of the bodies of the bourgeois institutions, be it Parliament or the
Constitutional Court, deluding the workers as to their nature and the
possibility of their use in the defence of proletarian interests,
confusing and distancing workers from the realisation that it is only on
the strength of the strike, extended and generalised, that they can defend
themselves.
Therefore, already after the Constitutional Court’s verdict, the
Intersyndicale started to spread out the national mobilisation days,
calling the next one 17 days later (on May Day) and the following one on
June 6, after a further 36 days.
After the fourteenth day of national mobilisation, on June 6, the
Intersyndicale blew the whistle.
But not the working class. Indeed, the day demonstrated the persistence
of mobilisation, despite a loss of momentum: 900,000 demonstrators
throughout France, 300,000 of them in Paris, according to the CGT.
Once the demonstration had started, CFDT General Secretary Berger made it
clear that he saw it as the final act of the dispute: that ‘the game is
over’, and he called on the trade unions to ‘bring their weight to bear in
the future balance of power’ on other issues: purchasing power of wages,
housing, working conditions, etc. This was a twisted way of saying that
the CFDT, and the majority of the Intersyndicale, intended to abandon the
anti-pension mobilisation and reopen the “social dialogue”, which in Italy
we call
concertazione
(and which in English we call ‘class
collaboration’).
On June 7, predictably, the President of Parliament invoked Article 40 of
the Constitution (rejection of a bill if it creates additional expense for
the state) against the LIOT motion. The next day, the LIOT withdrew the
bill. This was yet another miserable result of trade unions’ tactic of
relying on the institutions of the bourgeois regime.
On June 16, the Intersyndicale met for the last time before summer. In
the wake of the announcement by the head of the CFDT, the joint communiqué
“noted defeat”: ‘The Intersyndicale and the protesters failed to convince
the government to backtrack on raising the retirement age from 62 to 64’.
Sophie Binet of the CGT, for her part, added that ‘with another President
of the Republic, in another country, we would have won’.
In other words, according to the leaders of the two largest French regime
unions, it was impossible for the working class to win: the defeat was the
result of Macron’s “denial of democracy” and “numerous forcings”, not of
the combination of factors inherent to the class struggle: the conduct of
the Intersyndicale and the proletariat’s combativity. For them, there is
no class struggle, but rather the contraposition of “democracy” and
“authoritarianism”.
The French proletariat, in a social fabric that has changed since the
1980s with the deconstruction of big business and increasing
precariousness, was faced with a government determined not to give in, a
repressive apparatus strengthened and recently trained against the
Gilets
Jaunes
. In the face of this, the regime unions, anxious to avoid
class struggle, diverted it into parliamentarianism, begging the
government to negotiate in order to finally force defeat and return to the
table of “social dialogue” as soon as possible.
Having cashed in on its victory, today the French government announced it
would continue the offensive with the reform of the
Revenu de
Solidarité Active
(RSA), a social welfare benefit for the most
destitute, and a new immigration law to further divide the workers. In the
meantime, spending on armaments has increased, both for the war in Ukraine
and for internal repression.
A first assessment
The movement had already started before the introduction of the reform.
2022 was a particularly intense year for trade union struggles in various
sectors: the school workers in January, then the childcare workers, the
strike of the precarious postal workers led by the rank-and-file union
SUD, strikes in RATP with demands around questions of maintenance and
safety, the nuclear power plant stoppages led by the FNME-CGT (
Fédération
nationale des mines et de l’energie
), and above all the strikes in
the petrochemical refineries and terminals led by the combative FNIC-CGT
in October to demand wage increases (‘
Le lotte operaie in Francia
’,
Il Partito Comunista
no. 419). Finally, there was the strike of
SNCF train conductors on December 23–25, organised by a group of workers
operating outside the unions.
Also worth mentioning in November was the movement of SNCF signalmen at
the Bourget 2022 marshalling yard in the Paris region involving 80 railway
workers, often new recruits with no tradition of strike action, organised
with SUD Rail. Initially, they opted for strikes of 59 minutes every day
during peak hours, which corresponded to 3 hours of traffic stoppages due
to the stop and restart procedures. In January 2023, in the absence of any
response from management, they switched to two 59-minute strikes per
shift, and so on until April. Then, with the start of the pension reform,
whole days of strikes were called, on a 23-day rotation starting on March
7, with a large number of strikers.
While the union delegates recognised the importance of union unity and
organisation, especially within the youngest workers who had no tradition
of struggle and were among the most precarious workers, the attitude of
the Intersyndicale was criticised by the most combative part of the CGT
and SUD Rail. For five months, the Intersyndicale did not commit itself to
extending the rolling strikes, isolating the petrochemical, garbage,
electricity, and railway workers, who were left alone to face injunctions
and repression. This conduct is consistent with the explicit rejection of
a broad, indefinite strike and centralised organisation, which would have
meant uniting demands, supporting organisation at the grassroots, with the
aim of blocking the economy. Instead, union unity was based on a strategy
of pressure on the government, which a large part of the workers
understood had nothing to do with them.
Some trade union militants were in favour of going so far as to block
production by mobilising and coordinating forces to hit certain strategic
logistical points (transport, energy, ports, etc.). But the Intersyndicale
did not intend to bring the economy of national capital to a halt. As
Alexis Antonioli, secretary of the CGT at the Total Energies Normandy
refinery pointed out: ‘We knew that all the isolated strike days would not
sway the government. When you have that kind of strength, you can’t say
that you weren’t strong enough…. We had a radical base, but a leadership
whose line was to say that there would be no rolling strike’.
Not even after the government pushed through the reform on March 16,
arousing the indignation and anger of extensive layers of the working
class and a further sharpening of their combativeness, did the
Intersyndicale change its behaviour. Neither did it react to the
repressive actions by employers and police, which hit workers and union
militants with greater force and brutality than in the past.
Today, the workers face a regime more determined not to give in, ready to
use the most violent repression to achieve its goals, which ultimately
boil down to intensifying the exploitation of the working class. The
moment of physical confrontation with the bourgeoisie is thus approaching
for the proletariat. But the workers still have to rebuild their class
union organisations and reconnect with the revolutionary party.
Nothing will stop Macron and his clique, even if they lose their seats.
For the bourgeoisie, it is better to have a right-wing, or far-right party
like Marine Le Pen, than to give it to the workers’ movement.
It will be the pugnacity of the proletariat – which is sending clear
signals worldwide that it has resumed its historic march – that will allow
it to reconnect with its party, a decisive factor for the victory within
the trade union organisations against opportunist leadership and against
collaborationist regime unionism.
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)
* * *
The continuity between democracy and fascism in Italy
The fascist-democratic interpretation in the “material constitution” of the State
Bourgeois propaganda, whether democratic or fascist, tends to emphasise
the antithesis between democracy and authoritarianism, between fascism and
anti-fascism. We have always maintained that anti-fascism in fact
constitutes a feigned opposition to fascism and collaboration of bourgeois
factions in their common war against the proletariat.
If the bourgeoisie, in their daily propaganda, deny the continuity
between fascism and democracy, some of them in more specialist studies,
intended for a more restricted audience, admit this continuity.
The fascist state proclaimed itself anti-liberal and totalitarian. It
emphasised the separation between the liberal regime and fascism. It
emphasised the so-called fascist revolution. However, it governed to a
large extent using pre-fascist institutions. The Albertine Statute
remained in force, albeit modified in many parts. The Crown and the
Senate of the Kingdom of Italy remained in existence, albeit
disempowered. The Royal Edict of 1848 on the press was retained, even if
it underwent profound modifications…. In many cases the Fascist
legislation consisted of a collection of norms from the previous sixty
years, updated and made more suitable for the new regime…. When
presenting the laws for the defence of the state to the Chamber of
Deputies and the Senate of the kingdom in 1925–28, Alfredo Rocco could
always show their connection with pre-fascist legislation and illustrate
the element of statutory continuity…. This continuity of institutions is
accompanied by the continuity of the technical-political personnel.
The author goes on to speak of the
reproduction within the corporations of the then-so-called class
conflicts (between workers and employers). For the most intelligent
corporatists, the fascist state did not annul social unrest within a
generic solidarity. It subsumed it into the state, keeping it under
control.
We go on to read of
rationalising measures… not unlike those that had been adopted by the
historical Italian Right. On the contrary, these measures, in many
cases, collected obsolete norms from the liberal age, enhanced them and
framed them in an organic context. In other cases, they revived
institutions and procedures from the first years after Unification or
even from the Kingdom of Sardinia.… measures to deal with the economic
crisis. Here there is maximum correspondence with choices made outside
Italy, especially in the banking sector and public enterprises.
Again:
Just as there is continuity between the liberal-authoritarian state of
pre-fascism, there is continuity between the state of the fascist period
and the post-fascist democratic state. Two-thirds of the rules collected
in 1954 in a code of administrative laws were adopted in the fascist
period…. Some of these sets of rules even collect pre-fascist
regulations, so that their codification in the fascist period acts as a
bridge between pre-fascism and post-fascism…. The continuity is not only
ensured by the permanence of the rules, but also by the personnel: a
large majority of the top public personnel of the democratic age come
from the ranks of the bureaucracy formed in the fascist period…. The
idea of fascism as a parenthesis, of a sharp break between the fascist
period and republican Italy, therefore, is wrong. Or, rather, it
corresponds more to the need of contemporaries to establish a distance
between fascism and themselves, than to the reality of the facts.
In the second chapter we read:
Defining the ‘fascist state’ is difficult because, apart from its
proclaimed totalitarian nature, its roots lie in liberal Italy and its
institutions survive the fall of fascism; because a part of its
institutions is no different from those created in the same years in
other parts of the world…. Fascism itself solemnly proclaimed that it
wanted to build a totalitarian state…. It aspired to be totalitarian,
because it proclaimed ‘everything in the state, nothing outside the
state’. The ‘fascist state’ was thus able to combine a wide variety of
ideological legacies and to link up with conservative Catholic social
doctrine. It exploited all the elements of authoritarianism of the
existing state, introducing new elements, of a Caesaristic and
totalitarian type…. The very rupture constituted by the liberation and
the 1948 Constitution becomes less important in this perspective: one
thinks of the ‘continuity’ between certain statements of the 1942 code
(and of the 1927 Labour Charter itself) and certain provisions of the
1948 Constitution…[and] of the ‘continuity’ constituted by the
permanence of so much of the legislation of the 1930–40 period.
We now come to Chapter 3:
Legislation on the freedom and status of persons was completed in 1926,
with the new Public Security Law. This retained the same structure as
the 1889 Zanardelli Code, with the addition of Title I, on police
measures. But, on the one hand, it broadened the sphere of action of the
public security, on the other hand, it contained more restrictive
regulations on the right of assembly, shows, printing houses,
foreigners, and updated the discipline of forced domicile, which had
become police confinement, widening its scope.
Hence, Fascism
did not aim to change or completely replace the pre-existing legal
order, but inserted itself into it in such a way as to exploit the
authoritarian elements…multiplied the state-social organisations…. It
aimed to dominate the economy with a technique similar to that followed
in the political field: by reducing conflicts and transporting them to
the state sphere, where they could be kept under control…. State
domination of politics, society, and the economy was never full:
bureaucracy, schooling, religion escaped, in different ways, from
fascist control; corporatism as a planning tool had to make way for the
sectoral planning of a former Nittian like Beneduce.
We certainly cannot be satisfied with Cassese’s analyses, but we started
with these, which basically prove us right, in order to refute the alleged
radical difference between fascism and anti-fascist democracy, and
Benedetto Croce’s definition, a not disinterested nonsense, of fascism as
a “parenthesis” in Italian history.
(to be continued)
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* * *
Navigating contradictions
Japanese imperialism amidst stagnation and capital exports
So-called analysts appear to be overlooking the implications of the
changes in the Bank of Japan (BoJ) policy that followed the leadership
transition last April. Ueda Kazuo succeeded the outgoing President Kuroda
Haruhiko at the conclusion of his second term.
The entirety of the financial markets, corporate capitalism,
international institutions overseeing financial and trade regulations, and
the global credit system are now compelled to consider the unexpected
resurgence of $3.4 trillion in liquidity stemming from the Japanese
economy. This capital return, initiated under Kuroda’s leadership from
2016 onward, is the outcome of a pivotal shift in inflation and interest
rates. Japan is on the brink of deciding to depart from its previous
highly accommodative credit policy.
An upheaval of such magnitude would first impact the global bond market,
which is already grappling with the lingering repercussions of being at
the core of the U.S. Fed’s inflation-reducing strategy.
Japanese investors, aiming to enhance their profits, have long
prioritised opportunities in foreign countries. Local capitalists are
widely recognised for their eagerness in acquiring assets globally,
ranging from real estate to shares in the sovereign debt of various
countries, including Brazil.
This expansive investment approach traces its origins back to the
Nakasone era, when he served as the prime minister from 1982 to 1987.
During this period, the Japanese bourgeoisie had embraced the idea of
exerting control over the entire corporate and banking world by
strategically investing their capital everywhere.
When taken to its extreme, the mindset of expanding Japanese influence
solely through the spread of capital evolved into a self-fulfilling
prophecy, namely that individuals and entities holding the country’s major
assets would amass enough power to give Japan a significant degree of
control over the entire global capitalist economy.
These wild dreams were abandoned in the late 1980s, as a crisis struck
the country, bringing an end to the expansion of Japanese capital and
ushering in an era of stagnant growth, minimal wage increases, and
restrained government spending.
Kuroda’s policy, previously closely aligned with Abenomics, is now
transitioning towards a more restrictive approach known as a ‘buyback’, as
discussed in previous reports. This shift has faced open criticism from
other players in the capitalist economy, including the BlackRock fund,
expressing concerns about the market’s inability to absorb the large
“fluctuations” in prices and the “excessive force" with which it may spill
over into the markets.
Most indicators suggest a considerable risk which will have a significant
impact on Japan’s technology industry. This is in the wake of a global
escalation of the imperialist feud involving the United States, NATO,
Russia, and China, along with their respective allies. The anticipated
contraction in GDP for both the first and second quarters is a crucial
indication of this outcome. Unofficially, several sources associate these
contractions with each other in a causal relationship.
The inflation trend mirrors what is observed globally, showing a gradual
decline. This outcome is attributed to central bankers’ inability to
promptly rein in inflation. In March, “core” (primary, excluding energy
and food) consumer prices increased by 3.2% compared to the previous year,
marking a slowdown from the 42-year highs of 4.3% in January and 3.3% in
February. This deceleration is a consequence of government subsidies aimed
at curbing individuals’ energy expenditures. Despite this decline, the
figure remains well above the BoJ’s target, indicating that the reduction
in prices may not occur as swiftly as desired.
Retail sales in Japan have maintained an annual growth rate of +6.6%,
surpassing the previous forecast of +5.8%. This growth has been primarily
driven by the automotive and domestic sectors, especially department
stores. Additionally, industrial production relative to domestic output
saw a notable increase of 4.5% in February compared to January, surpassing
the forecasted 2.7% increase. While these figures seem impressive, they
are undermined by the modern tricks of bourgeois economics of lowering
expectations on economic indicators, making it easier for them to be
exceeded by reality. However, various signals suggest that the current
momentum may be approaching its end.
The recent imposition of export bans impacting the production of
integrated circuit manufacturing machinery is anticipated to solidify what
is already indicated in market forecasts during the second half of the
year. Weaknesses in the IT sector have resulted in a decrease in demand
for services, hitting a low point just when Japanese capitalists
anticipated the post-pandemic “big rebound”. The resilience of Japanese
capitalism appears to be sustained primarily by declining energy prices,
injecting fresh vitality into consumer spending that is not driven by net
growth or additional structural factors.
Increasing consumption would necessitate raising wages, but “spring
talks” on this issue have been postponed. This delay is attributed to the
fact that the Bank of Japan (BoJ) shows no intention of slowing down the
pace of rate hikes anytime soon. Consequently, the BoJ is attempting to
highlight the rebound in industrial production to portray the country as
“stable”. Against the backdrop of a deteriorating labor market, Kishida’s
approach is an attempt to portray the workers’ plight as temporary and
recoverable. March data indicates a rise in the unemployment rate (2.6% in
February compared to 2.4% in January), while in the same months, the ratio
of jobs to job applications dropped from 1.35 to 1.34.
The trend was propelled by weakness in the manufacturing sector and
strength in the services sector. These same sectors are largely
responsible for the surge in output through January, leading to the
perception that their improvement may be temporary.
The strategy advocated by the Japan Trade Union Confederation, focusing
on the policy of raising wages, was met by businesses and corporate
industries with a wage increase of +1.4% in April (the start of Japan’s
fiscal year). However, this increase was limited to just one month.
Additionally, the April data revealed a 0.3% decrease in overtime pay,
marking the first decline in two years.
The impact of the
shunto
, the spring wage negotiations, went no
further and certain conditions were stipulated by Kishida. He stated that
he would support an increase in nominal wage growth only if long-term
inflation remains around 2%. Official government data persistently refute
that such a condition has been achieved. The inflation-adjusted real wage
time series reveals the thirteenth consecutive year-on-year decline (3%),
under pressure from the significant increase in consumer prices, which
continues to erode nominal wage growth
Household spending, down 4.4% in April, marks the highest drop since
February 2021. This scenario is shaping a situation where consumption is
not significantly driving the economy. Instead, the country is grappling
with the repercussions of the global economic slowdown, given its role as
a major exporting nation within the broader framework of international
capitalism.
Spending on services decreased by 1.9%, while a sharper drop was seen in
the demand for goods, down 3.4%. The decline in demand for physical
products is particularly noteworthy, resembling a situation seen in Italy
where the domestic market struggles to compensate for the loss of
projection in external markets. The current Cold War-like environment
doesn’t provide the same opportunities, highlighting the vulnerability of
firms across various industries. There is a looming risk of a
long-anticipated financial shock, especially if the debt repurchase plan
implemented by the BoJ goes awry.
In terms of foreign policy, Japan is becoming more involved in the
imperialist feud among bourgeois powers, aligning itself with the U.S. and
NATO against Russia. This involvement is accompanied by an increase in
offers of aid to the Ukrainian military, exemplified by the delivery of
several military vehicles to Kiev in May. However, Japanese imperialism,
positioned for a potential large-scale resurgence, adopts a low-profile
tactic of taking sides when convenient. The timely offer of humanitarian
aid to the victims of the Kherson flood may be a case in point of this
strategic approach.
Nevertheless, the obstacles hindering the expansion of the Japanese
economy are compelling the state to make compromises on its control over
vital assets, such as big industry. This is evident in the decision to
transfer Toshiba to private control in a $14 billion deal with the Japan
Industrial Partners (JIP) group. Official comments suggest that this move
is a response to high-interest rates and reduced availability of
favourable loan terms.
Energy security remains a weak point, with recent government decisions
imposing new sanctions on Russia, ruling out the exploitation of the oil
and gas field associated with the Sakhalin-2 project. This project had
been a subject of substantial investment by both Russian and Japanese
state-run industries at the time.
These signs of potential growing insecurity over fossil fuels are
prompting the Japanese middle class to advocate for significant progress
in the development of hydrogen-fuel alternatives. The Kishida cabinet
recently set a goal in the first week of June to increase hydrogen
production to 12 million tons by 2040, a level six times higher than
today. The plan is supported by $107 billion in funding over 15 years,
aimed at creating hydrogen-based supply chains for both the public and
private sectors. Realistically, the government views this as one option
among others, including “clean coal” and energy from nuclear power plants,
to address the complex issues surrounding decarbonsation.
These specific policies are expected to have a significant impact on
Japan. The Kishida cabinet’s ambitious declarations to transition Japan
into a “hydrogen society”, where energy supply and demand are centred on
hydrogen, stem from the anticipated shortage of LNG, projected to persist
until at least 2025. The competition from European countries to secure
this energy source is anticipated to further intensify the shortage,
prompting Japan to prioritise the development and utilisation of hydrogen
as an alternative.
Therefore, big industry, which significantly influences, if not entirely
directs, most government actions, sees the commercialisation of pure
hydrogen and ammonia as its final option to prevent further erosion of its
position in the global power rankings.
Despite Matsuno Hirokazu’s confident statement that Japan has all the
necessary elements to achieve the triple aim of decarbonisation, stable
energy supply, and economic growth, the country will have to grapple with
the consequences of the Fukushima power plant disaster for many years to
come.
This strategy is complemented by the expectation of progress in microchip
production, with Taiwan’s TSMC poised to share its knowledge with the
Japanese corporate sector to reclaim the top positions it once held in the
global market. However, in a more practical sense, Japan is faced with
competition from U.S. plans to “reshore” chip production facilities. This,
in turn, sparks joint competition and a race against time to steal raw
materials and semi-finished products.
Apart from the striking resemblances with Italy, especially in the
approach taken by the Italian bourgeoisie to persist with its
long-standing policy of low wages, this type of economic development
strongly suggests that in Japan, the post-Covid-19 recovery is already
largely concluded. The current phase illustrates the rapid global
progression of the economic and financial crisis, with which the Japanese
bourgeoisie is increasingly unable to cope, forcing it to fall back to the
strategy of mitigating the war between the classes.
(back to
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* * *
The working class in Latin America
Report from our comrades
For May Day, from Mexico to Patagonia, we witnessed the traditional
parades of workers who bowed to the demagogic policies of governments, or
who anticipated in vain possible announcements of wage increases or
“improvements” in working conditions, waiting for crumbs to fall from the
table of the bosses’ banquet. In every country the ruling demagogue has
made his promises with the support of business and the various union
centres subservient to capital.
If we exclude countries like Venezuela and Cuba, where nominal wages are
close to zero, Colombia, Brazil and Peru stand out with the lowest minimum
wages. However, we know that even in Uruguay, Ecuador, Chile, Argentina,
and Paraguay, which have the highest minimum wages in the region, workers
survive at the cost of much deprivation, for food, health care and
hygiene. On the other hand, the prevailing wage patterns in the different
countries tend to lower what is paid to retirees and laid-off workers to
abysmal levels, and deprive the vast masses of unemployed and hidden
unemployment: workers in the informal economy, ‘self-employed’, day
labourers, etc., of all resources.
Real wages are being eroded by inflation and employers’ rapacity, seeking
to maximise the exploitation of workers. All this is leading to a
deterioration in the living, eating and health conditions of proletarian
families.
In Colombia there have been no government promises of any kind for the
workers. The trade union centres have reserved the workers the role of
extras, to make them join the event organised by President Gustavo Petro,
who needed to show “popular support” for his anti-proletarian policy.
Petro called on ‘Colombian citizens’ to mobilise in support of the reforms
his government has proposed to the Congress of the Republic. Workers’
discontent was channelled towards the institutional mechanisms of
bourgeois democracy, pushing the workers’ struggle into the background in
relation to its plans for labour reform.
In Brazil, the trade union centres mobilised the workers and obtained
from the Lula government only the adjustment of the minimum wage from
1,302 to 1,320 reais (R$) per month (about US$267 US, an increase of
1.38%) and income tax exemption for those earning up to 2,640 R$. The
teachers went on strike demanding a wage increase. They denounce that the
implementation of the table announced by the government will reduce the
total salary, which will affect the pension calculation. For example, if a
teacher with 40 hours of work earns R$ 3,529.74 per month as a basic
salary, with bonuses their salary is R$ 4,500 (about US$911): this worker
will not receive any increase. Similarly, the government’s salary
adjustment has not benefited the school’s administrative staff.
The strike in the Federal District ended after 21 days with an agreement
to pay a higher salary in the second half of this year, and not in 2024 as
previously planned.
In Mexico, the president met with the clowns of the Confederation of
Mexican Workers (
Confederación de Trabajadores de Mexico
) to have
lunch and share demagogic speeches without any reference to possible wage
increases. Independent unions mobilised for workers’ demands.
In Argentina, there were major street demonstrations in which the unions
rejected the government’s agreements with the IMF and demanded measures to
control inflation. Argentina is among the countries with the highest cost
of living increases in the world. In March the price increase was 7.7% and
on a yearly basis it reached 104.3%.
In Bolivia, President Luis Arce led the workers’ march with the
Central
Obrera Boliviana
, where he announced a five per cent wage increase
that will raise the minimum wage to 2,362 bolivianos, equivalent to
US$340. The labour minister stated that the increase seeks to compensate
for last year’s inflation, which was 3.2%. But the reality is that this
wage is insufficient to meet the basic needs of workers. In a statement
that makes clear how the main trade union centres are integrated into the
bourgeois state, the demagogue Arce claimed that his government ‘is strong
because the trade unions are strong’. In fact, successive governments have
managed to promote and maintain their anti-worker policies thanks to the
treacherous work of the trade union centres.
At the same time, state teachers, who have been in conflict with the
government since mid-March, demonstrated outside the official parade.
State teachers are demanding better salaries and more recruitment, but
dialogue with the Ministry of Education has so far been fruitless. Despite
being affiliated to the
Central Obrera
, the teachers have
complained that this organisation does not represent them. Meanwhile, for
their part, entrepreneurs have claimed that the wage increase ordered by
the government will increase unemployment.
In Venezuela, after months marked by the harsh struggle of school workers
demanding wage increases, the government managed to capitalise on the mock
march on May 1, mobilising mainly workers in state-owned companies and
institutions thanks to government-provided public transport. Alternative
mobilisations to that of the government, demanding wage increases, took
place in several states of the country, but with low participation. In the
capital Caracas, an important attempt at an alternative march took place,
with a large participation of workers, which was diluted along the way,
partly due to the strong police siege that slowed it down, and partly due
to the absence of a class-based trade union leadership that would have
provided the necessary guidance.
The government announced an increase in bonuses, but kept the minimum
wage at 130 bolivars (about US$5 per month). With the bonus policy, the
government decreases the cost of labour (holidays and allowances are
calculated on the basis of the minimum wage) and can also reduce the cost
of dismissing employees.
After the May Day announcements, workers’ discontent and their opposition
to trade union confederations and federations increased. In the region of
Guyana, with a large development of iron, aluminium, steel and other
processing companies, there were significant manifestations of hostility
by workers towards the regional representatives of the CBST (
Central
Bolivariana Socialista de Trabajadores
). There were reports of
protests at CBST industrial plants in
Corporación Venezolana de
Guayana
(CVG), SIDOR (steel), ALCASA (aluminium), FERROMINERA (iron)
and VENALUM (aluminium). As a result of these protests, some sectors of
the trade union movement in these companies are promoting the holding of
trade union elections, where they have not been held for the renewal of
union leadership for some eight years.
Opportunists and trade unionists still manage to keep the workers
demobilised, disorganised, divided and subservient to the politics of
class conciliation with the capitalist bosses and governments of the day.
In general, the labour movement is devoid of class-based trade union
references. There are sporadic combative initiatives at trade union level
that still fail to grow in influence, partly due to the confusion caused
by the presence of nationalist positions, defence of national sovereignty
and inclinations towards electoral participation and parliamentarism. The
large trade union centres of Latin America, old and new, maintain a policy
of class conciliation, far from any call to struggle.
* * *
(back to
table of
contents
)
* * *
The Party’s trade union
activity in Italy
Report to the May 2023 General Meeting
From the beginning of February to date, trade union activity in Italy has
continued to take place in the different spheres that we have already
listed in the last report:
the propaganda of union-political positions and direction in the
streets, with leafleting and newspapers, favouring places frequented by
workers;
the same propaganda in front of workplaces;
intervention at trade union events with party leaflets;
the activity within the inter-union body known as the Self-Convocated
Coordination of Workers (
>Coordinamento Lavoratori Autoconvocati
,
CLA), to fight for the unity of action of combative unionism;
the activity within the grassroots trade union organisations; and
writing articles for the trade union page of the Party newspaper.
As already mentioned, it rises from the most general level – propaganda
among the masses in the streets – gradually to more and more characterised
and specific levels, up to our press, where the class union line is made
explicit in all its aspects and in its connection to and descent from the
communist programme and theory.
We also organised a public meeting of the Party in Turin on April 30, the
day before May Day, at the headquarters of
Confederazione Cobas
,
on a trade union issue:
Gli scioperi in Francia, Gran Bretagna,
Germania, Grecia sono l’inizio dell’nevitabile estendersi della lotta di
classe internazionale. Presto anche in Italia i lavoratori si dovranno
mobilitare. Quali le condizioni per dimostrare tutta la loro forza e
determinazione?
.
In general, the labour movement in Italy remains in a condition of
weakness and passivity, and this is reflected in our activities in the
areas listed above.
If we take a look at the overall situation of the class struggle in
Italy, the last general movements of a certain strength –
inter-categorical, involving the generality of the class – were in 1992,
against the agreement that completed the revocation of the ‘sliding scale’
– which provoked a protest at the top of the regime unions and a
strengthening of grassroots unionism – and that of 1994, against the
Berlusconi government’s first pension reform.
The last strong national sectoral strike movement, which developed
spontaneously with so-called ‘wildcat’ strikes that repeatedly violated
anti-strike legislation, was the public transport workers’ strike of
December 2002–January 2003, which also developed outside and against the
regime’s unions and which strengthened grassroots unionism in the sector
(‘
Disamina e bilancio dello sciopero dei tranvieri
’).
As far as factory strikes are concerned, we had the 21-day strike at FIAT
in Melfi in April 2004 (‘
Cobas e Fiom alla riprova di Melfi
’), and
ten years later the 35-day strike at ThyssenKrupp in Terni in
October-November 2014 (‘Terni, Uno sciopero di 35 giorni tradito dai
sindacati di regime’).
A number of considerations must be made regarding this direction:
Since 2011, there has been a developing reorganisation of grassroots
unionism in the logistics sector, chiefly but not exclusively in SI Cobas.
This movement has been considerable, leading to the formation of what is
now the second largest grassroots union, SI Cobas, with approximately
20,000 members, but has remained confined to this category, with only
minor exceptions.
The first rank-and-file trade union became
Unione Sindacale di Base
,
which was formed in 2010 from the merger of the previous
Rappresentanze
Sindacali di Base
with parts of
Confederazione Unitaria di Base
and the small SdL (
Sindacato dei Lavoratori
). Membership can be
estimated at around 40,000. Compared to its origins in 2010 and to the
tradition of the main founding organisation – the RdB – the USB has
partially changed its character over the last 13 years, reducing the
number of members in the public sector (down to around 16,000), a sector
in which the RdB was almost exclusively organised, and growing in the
private sector.
It would seem to be the triumph of the social peace always coveted by the
bourgeoisie. Instead, we know it to be the prelude to a new explosion of
class struggle, whose material conditions day by day the advancing crisis
of capitalism prepares in the subsoil of society, and whose first
manifestations are already well observable internationally, both in the
social protest movements that, for the moment, have retained their
inter-class character – as in Chile, Colombia, Ecuador and Peru – and in
the strengthening of the trade union struggle in France, Great Britain,
Greece, Turkey and the USA.
All of these countries have experienced the same process of weakening of
the trade union movement that we have described for Italy, albeit in
different forms and to different degrees, but a so-called reversal of the
trend seems to have already occurred in them, which is not yet evident in
Italy.
The weakening of the workers’ struggle was reflected in the regime unions
themselves, which in Italy saw both a decrease in their membership and an
increasing difficulty in mobilising the workers in the rare actions they
took, mostly demonstrations instead of strikes. But the leadership of the
CGIL, the CISL, and Uil only appear to lament this. The weakness of the
working class is in fact the best guarantee of their control over it.
On the whole, rank-and-file unionism – due to both adverse objective
reasons and the damaging action of its opportunist leadership – was unable
to counteract this progressive weakening of workers’ struggles and, like
regime unionism, suffered a decline in membership and mobilisation
capacity.
In those categories where it had been most successful in the 1980s and
1990s, on the wave of movements of struggle outside and against the regime
unions, it lost most of its members: school, railway workers, health, tram
drivers, airport workers, fire fighters.
However, the picture varies among the different trade union
organisations.
Cobas Scuola
, and in general the Cobas Confederation to which they
belong, appear to be in serious decline.
Fiat’s offensive, started in June 2010 by then CEO Marchionne, led to the
almost complete destruction of the Slai Cobas, which had developed in the
Arese (closed in 2005), Termoli, and Pomigliano plants. Small grassroots
union groups remained in the factories of Melfi, Termoli, Pratola Serra,
and Atessa.
The CUB, which was founded in 1992 and was then present in several
categories and industries, and which had made a federative pact with the
RdB, giving rise to RdB-CUB, has also suffered a sharp decline, in
particular as a result of two factors the birth in 2010 of the USB, which
took over parts of the CUB; the agreement called the
Testo Unico sulla
Rappresentanza
of January 2014 between the bosses and the regime
unions, accepted first by
Confederazione Cobas,
then by the USB,
then by other minor grassroots unions, and never by the CUB, which
resulted in its exclusion from the RSU (united union representative bodies
elected within companies).
The crisis of overproduction, in the absence of an already implanted and
robust class-based trade union movement, had a depressive effect on
workers’ combativeness, especially in the manufacturing industry, leading
to a retreat of grassroots unionism from previously won positions.
In contrast to what has been outlined so far, a movement has developed in
the logistics sector that has given rise to the formation of SI Cobas, and
the smaller Adl Cobas. The USB is also a partial counter-tendency to the
general backwardness of base unionism.
After this minimal review, we come to union activity in the past four
months. The low level of conflict was confirmed. As in previous years,
having consumed the autumn mobilisations, already weak in themselves, the
following months expressed an even lower level of general mobilisations.
Added to this was the breakdown of the fragile unity of action of base
unionism, between the leaderships of the USB and SI Cobas, in the national
demonstration in Rome on 3 December, in which we participated by carrying
out propaganda work.
This led the USB leadership to call a general strike for Friday, 26 May,
convened and organised without involving any other grassroots union, the
outcome of which was, despite the leadership’s proclamations, negative.
We summarise our activity from February 2023 to date.
On Saturday 25 February, the USB called a national anti-war demonstration
in Genoa with the slogan: ‘Down with weapons, up with wages!’ Behind the
slogan, appreciable, there is, however, the ill-concealed pro-Russian
stance of its leadership group.
Five days earlier, on Monday February 20, we took part in the USB Liguria
confederal coordination, in preparation for the demonstration on the 25th.
In it we reaffirmed that the ongoing war in Ukraine is imperialist on both
fronts; that only the workers will be able to stop the general imperialist
war that is ripening; that the strikes and the demonstration against the
war and in defence of wages are a first step on this road.
Two days earlier, on Saturday February 18, we had spoken at an assembly
called by the Genoese SI Cobas in the dockerworkers’ hall. The assembly
had as its theme the war in Ukraine and a book written by the political
front that runs SI Cobas was being presented there. It was therefore a
case of using the trade union for a function unrelated to it, as an
organisational tool of a political group. There is dissatisfaction within
this union over this conduct.
We intervened by explaining that at the trade union level, the unity of
action of the workers and, to this end, the unity of action of combative
trade unionism is fundamental; on the other hand, opportunism is
characterised by acting in an inverted way: it makes political frontism
(the SI Cobas leadership has formed a political front with Stalinist
groups) and trade union sectarianism, dividing and weakening the workers’
fighting actions.
Also on 25 February, we took part in the successful national anti-war
demonstration called by the USB, distributing a Party leaflet entitled
Il
massacro dei proletari ucraini e russi continua e prefigura quello
mondiale cui il capitalismo vuol condurre l’umanità intera. Solo la
rivoluzione internazionale dei lavoratori potrà impedirlo!
.
With a trade union militant from the opposition in CGIL, we distributed
the leaflet calling the national assembly of the CLA (
Assemblea
pubblica. Salute sicurezza repressione nei posti di lavoro e sul
territorio
), scheduled for Sunday March 3 in Genoa, which was
attended by some thirty people. It was an opportunity to expound in some
detail on important issues concerning the relationship between trade
unions and the Party and the question of the unity of action of combative
unionism. This was done with the introductory speech given by our comrade
(
Questioni cruciali del sindacalismo di classe discusse ad una
assemblea del CLA
). The text of this speech was translated by our
comrades into English and is published in no. 57 of
The Communist
Party
(‘Crucial Questions of Class Trade-Unionism Discussed at a
Meeting of the CLA’). The speech was an opportunity to counter the
inconsistent arguments of the speaker at the 18 February assembly
organised by the Genoese SI Cobas.
On March 8 in Genoa, we took part in the International Women’s Day
demonstration, distributing the party’s leaflet, translated into our press
in 16 languages (
It is capitalism that prevents women’s liberation
).
We paid special attention to following the strike movements in France and
the UK, and reporting on them in our press. This was done in the May–June
issue of
Il Partito Comunista
, with two articles entitled ‘
In
Francia la lotta generale di classe travolge i bonzi della Cgt
’ and
‘
Nel Regno Unito scioperi e manifestazioni annunciano il risveglio
della classe operaia
’.
What happened there, and especially in France, had a certain reflection
among the militants of combative unionism in Italy. Delegations, one from
the USB, one from Fiom, went – separately – to one of the demonstrations
in Marseilles.
In France the movement was directed by a collaboration of multiple unions
including all the unions, those openly collaborationist and regime, such
as the CFDT, those covertly so, basically the CGT, and the only one that
could be considered a base union, the SUD. The most combative parts of the
CGT, of Force Ouvriere, and of the SUD distinguished themselves by not
breaking the unity of the strikes called by the collaboration, trying to
prolong them in the sectors and companies where they were able to do so.
This example was repeatedly used by us – at the assembly of the Genoese
SI Cobas, at the confederal coordination of USB Liguria, at the assembly
of the CLA – to explain that in Italy it was necessary to indicate, not
certainly a trade union front with the regime unions, but certainly a
unity of action of the combative trade unionism, which was absolutely
necessary. All the trade union-political opportunism that runs the
grassroots unions ignored this need, despite filling their mouths with
high-sounding phrases like “do as in France”.
On March 25, in Genoa, we published an appeal by the Genoese CLA for
grassroots trade unionism in the city to promote a united presidium in
solidarity with the movement of struggle in France, which in those days
was reaching its climax, even facing some repressive episodes of a certain
gravity (‘
Per un’azione unitaria del sindacalismo conflittuale in
solidarietà con la classe lavoratrice in Francia
’). This appeal,
sent to all local union leaders and circulated among our union contacts,
also went unheeded.
On March 30 in Rome, the USB organised a national conference with the
issue of wages at its centre. We followed the entire conference, broadcast
on the union’s Facebook page. Guests and speakers included former INPS
president Tridico, close to the 5 Star Movement, the head of this
bourgeois party Giuseppe Conte and a retired university professor of
economics. The conference showed the patently contradictory trade
union-political line of the USB leadership, typical of opportunism.
On the one hand, the USB leaders correctly state that the current crisis
is a ‘systemic’ crisis of capitalism and overproduction, and that the only
way to defend and increase wages is through struggle. On the other hand,
they delude themselves, and delude the workers, that the way out of the
economic crisis of capitalism is in a return to a policy of strong state
intervention, which for them is not bourgeois but democratic. They claim,
as does a part of the left in the CGIL, the establishment of a new
Institute for Industrial Reconstruction, which was set up in 1933, during
fascism, at the height of the Great Depression, and which in the post-war
period progressively expanded its areas of intervention to include some
1,000 companies with more than 500,000 employees in 1980.
This policy, which relies on nationalisations of companies crushed by the
weight of the crisis, has nothing anti-capitalist about it; in fact, it
was undertaken by fascism, as well as by Nazism and the Anglo-Saxon
democracies. It is a path practised – and justified
a posteriori
with ideological patches – by every bourgeois state in the face of
catastrophic crisis in order to make productive structures barely survive
at the expense of the exchequer.
The bourgeois state’s policies of intervention in the economy to ‘save
strategic companies for the country’ – as repeated by both regime trade
unionism and the opportunism at the head of the base unions – through
nationalisations, have the aim of leading the proletariat towards the
slaughterhouse of imperialist war, the only political-economic policy
capable of saving bourgeois privileges and domination. Political
nationalism, at the basis of which is economic nationalism, is fundamental
to this end, as well as keeping certain factories and production
facilities in operation. The nationalisation of industries under
capitalist rule “nationalises” the proletarian masses in the sense that it
regiments them in nationalist ideology. It brings us closer, not to
socialism, but to imperialist war.
Thus, while the USB leadership correctly claims strong wage increases and
points to the path of struggle to achieve them, it contradicts this
struggle with a political direction that is nothing but the classic
social-democratic one, which failed already with the World Wars.
The USB conference in Rome, rather than the issue of how to obtain wage
increases, focused on the question of the ‘legal minimum wage’, for which
the USB leaders trust not in the mobilisation of the workers but in the
demagogic support of bourgeois politicians. Tridico and Conte’s calls and
speeches are framed in this context.
This is why we published two articles in our press: the first on the
decline of wages in Italy (‘
Il declino costante dei salari in Italia
’),
the second on the issue of the ‘legal minimum wage’, which we called a
mirage to divert workers from the necessary fight for wages (‘
Miraggio
del salario minimo per deviare la combattività operaia
’).
Many, even within the USB, recognise that without a general struggle of
the entire working class of the appropriate strength, a minimum wage law
would resolve itself into a downward compromise between the bourgeois
parties, who piggyback on this utopia for mere electoral purposes. On the
other hand, if the conditions were in place to express a movement of such
strength, then it would not be convenient to channel it into the kind of
parliamentary politics from which such a law could be expected, but
instead it would be better to have a direct confrontation with the bosses
to obtain wage increases.
It is true what the regime unions claim, that wage levels should be
regulated not by law but by bargaining. But they do this because,
conducted in their preferred manner, i.e., without a fight, bargaining
guarantees that the bosses will pay low wages. The solution, however, does
not lie in the illusion that the downward bargaining of the regime unions
can be circumvented by imposing, with supposed support from parties of the
bourgeois left, a law to protect wages. This fully social-democratic, and
fascist, illusion rests on the idea that capitalism can be conditioned by
democracy, with rules that come to protect the living conditions of
proletarians and their class unions.
On this level rests the other erroneous claim of the restoration of the
sliding scale, put forward by the USB and other trade union currents, for
example the Trotskist opposition currents within the CGIL. Yet another is
that of a law on union representation, which, according to USB leaders,
would guarantee class unionism the right to be recognised.
These opportunist currents perpetuate the falsehood that democracy is
what it says it is, and not instead a form of bourgeois class rule – ‘the
best political envelope of capitalism’, said Lenin – complementary to
totalitarian and openly fascist forms of government, and which does not
change the bourgeois nature of the state at all.
In response to the USB leadership’s most recent address at the March 30
conference, we stated that if it is true that the only way to defend wages
is through struggle, then those left-wing bourgeois parties that the USB
leadership deludes into thinking they can help the workers should be put
to the test as to their real intentions. And not with the demand for a
minimum wage, but with the abolition of the anti-strike laws, which
prevent a large part of the working class from fighting, specifically
those categories that have been fighting in recent months in France and
the UK.
The article on the minimum wage addressed another diversion used, in this
case by regime unionism, to keep workers from returning to the struggle:
that of “tax reform”. At the final assembly of the 19th Congress of the
CGIL, in Rimini, General Secretary Landini called it ‘the mother of all
battles’. The main exponent of the trade union fraction that heads
Fiom–CGIL in Genoa, which declares itself combative and held its congress
in Genoa in December 2022 under the slogan ‘For a class union’, agreed
with this statement by the great piecard. In the article we also denounced
this opportunism that masquerades as class unionism.
We distributed the party newspaper at the May Day event in Turin.
On May 13 in Florence, we took part in a demonstration called by the SI
Cobas of Prato against the police repression of its two young local
leaders. We distributed a specially prepared leaflet to the 600 or so
participants (Per la rinascita di un forte movimento sindacale di classe
contro sfruttamento e repressione). The workers in the procession showed
great attachment and trust in their union.
Three major strikes took place in logistics. One on April 7 in the major
couriers (Brt, Gls, and Sda), members of the employers’ association Fedit,
which succeeded in causing substantial delays in their activities. A
second took place at the Coop warehouse in Pieve Emanuele, south of Milan.
A third important strike was conducted by the smaller Adl Cobas, which has
been supporting SI Cobas for years, at the warehouse of
Commit
Siderurgica
, a steel company in Veggiano, in the province of Padua.
A fourth major strike took place at the Stellantis plant (formerly Fiat)
in Pomigliano d’Arco, in the province of Naples. We reported and commented
on these struggles in the July–August 2023 issue of Il Partito Comunista
(‘
Ultime dal sindacalismo di regime in Italia
’).
* * *
Report to the September 2023 General Meeting
In Italy there remains a general condition of passivity and resignation
of the wage-earning masses, with sporadic struggles that are still unable
to trigger a widespread, let alone general, movement.
The same applies to what cannot even be called opportunism, but rather
openly patronistic politics, conducted in Italy by the leaders of the
regime unions: CGIL, CISL, UIL, UGL.
This condition persists despite the general weakening of the trade union
movement and the organisations controlled by the pro-bourgeois trade union
fractions at the head of the regime’s trade unions, and opportunists at
the head of the combative trade union bodies, i.e., the opposition areas
within the CGIL and the grassroots unions. The weakening, produced by the
objective conditions of capitalism, is aggravated by such leaderships.
In July, the CGIL metalworkers’ federation, Fiom, called a four-hour
strike divided by region. We drew up a leaflet which we distributed at the
strike demonstration in Genoa on July 7.
Just as we witnessed the smallest demonstration organised for the general
strike called by CGIL and UIL in Genoa on December 16, 2022, with even
greater certainty we can say the same for the procession organised for the
metalworkers’ city-wide strike: never so few in number.
Our leaflet, which we published in no. 424 of our Italian-language
newspaper,
Il Partito Comunista
, pilloried and hit out very
effectively at both the national leadership of Fiom–CGIL and the
opportunism of the trade union fraction of the political group running the
Genoa Fiom. This local political union leadership had celebrated the
Fiom–CGIL provincial congress in December under the slogan: ‘Conscience,
struggle, organisation. For a Class Union’
Our leaflet first of all attacked the Fiom national leadership. This,
like the confederal leadership, on the one hand denounces low wages, to
show the workers that it is a bastion in their defence, and on the other
hand does not demand real wage increases, i.e. on the basic wage and paid
by the companies, but a reduction in taxes on wages. In fact, in the Fiom
leaflet for the 7 July strike, one of the demands was not for ‘wage
increases’ but for ‘enhancing and supporting labour income’.
In Italy, the leadership of the CGIL has not used the term ‘working
class’ for years and even tries not to talk about wages, but about
‘income’ The work of demolishing every idea, principle and practice of
class, begun by its leadership since the reconstitution from the top of
the union in 1944, continues to this day and advances towards ever new
frontiers of shameless disavowal.
In our leaflet we commented: ‘They don’t even have the courage to name
the wage, which they call income, as what’s pocketed the parasitic social
classes who live off the backs of the working class’.
A month before the July 7 strike, at the beginning of June, the Fiom
national secretary had praised the metalworkers’ labour contract signed
two years earlier together with FIM and UILM because, according to him, it
‘defends the purchasing power of wages’. This was because an average
increase of about 6.6 per cent had been triggered in May because the
contract provided for an automatic adjustment to inflation through a
periodic review. But the increase started in June and was not retroactive,
i.e. it did not recover the purchasing power of wages lost from the end of
2021 to May 2023, i.e., since inflation had started to run. In addition,
the adjustment was based on the HICP index. This consumer price index,
proposed in 2009 by the CISL and UIL and initially rejected by CGIL, only
to accept it completely as of 2012, does not include the prices of
imported energy goods. Which, as is well known, are a key component of the
inflation of the last two years in Italy.
On the editorial side, in the July and September newspapers, we published
articles on the youth revolt in the French suburbs; the repression against
workers’ struggles by the Venezuelan bourgeois regime, cloaked in
“socialism”; strikes in the USA, particularly in the UPS and auto
industry; strikes in Argentina and Brazil; and, finally, in Fiume,
Croatia, where garbage collectors organised to fight outside the regime’s
union.
In Italy, activity in the
Coordinamento Lavoratori Autoconvocati
continued. On June 8, a communiqué was published in solidarity with the
Coordinamento
Macchinisti Cargo
(CMC) in view of the ninth strike organised by
this organisation, called for the following day.
On June 25, an assembly was held in Florence, on the theme of Health,
Safety, and Repression in the workplace and in the territory, at the end
of which a motion of solidarity was drawn up with the workers in struggle,
organised with SI Cobas, at the
Mondo Convenienza
company in Campi
Bisenzio (Florence), and €350 was collected to give to the workers. At the
assembly it was decided to work on a mobilisation in September/October on
this theme as well as in the direction of the establishment of a broader
coordination to work on this issue.
On July 19, the CLA issued a new communiqué in solidarity with the CMC,
for the tenth strike scheduled for July 21.
On July 23, an extended meeting was held, in person and online, to
implement the commitments made at the June 25 assembly in Florence. The
minutes of the meeting were published on July 30. A mobilisation day in
Bologna, in front of the court, was decided for October 12.
On September 2, a communiqué was published about the railway massacre in
Brandizzo (Turin) two days earlier, in which five railway maintenance
workers lost their lives.
* * *
In addition to the trade union report, presented at the end of September,
we add here the fact that, since the day of mobilisation promoted by the
CLA and other organisations, a permanent collaboration between these
bodies has sprung up, which for the time being has given itself the name
‘Coordination of 12 October’. It includes: the CLA, the CMC, the trade
unions SGB, CUB Trasporti, and Sol Cobas, activists of the CGIL group ‘
Le
Radici del Sindacato
’, families of the victims of the Viareggio
railway massacre and the Torre piloti in Genoa, the Assembly of 29 June,
and
Medicina Democratica
.
(back to
table of
contents
)
From the Archive of the Left
Party and proletarian class organisations in the tradition of revolutionary communism
from
Il Partito Comunista
nos. 12–14, 1975
(Part 1 of 3)
Economic struggle and political struggle
Continuing to elucidate the question of the united front, let us return
to the basics of our Marxist conception. The working class is compelled to
struggle against the capitalist regime by the need to defend its
conditions of existence, its wages, its labour, its very life. This
struggle, which takes place on the terrain of the economic conditions of
the workers, is transformed at certain critical moments into a political
struggle, into a struggle for the conquest of political power, because at
such moments the very defence of the workers’ living conditions can only
be done by wresting political power from the hands of the bourgeoisie, by
establishing the dictatorial power of the proletarian class, on the basis
of which alone is possible the destruction of the capitalist mode of
production and the reorganisation in a communist sense of the economy and
society. The conduct of the political struggle can only be entrusted to a
fighting organism that has arisen and is suited to this purpose: the class
political party.
Proletarian organs and political party
The first consequence that follows from this Marxist approach to the
problem, and which is verified by the entire history of the proletarian
movement, is the objective necessity, because it is not dependent on
individual will, of the manifestation of proletarian action and
organisation on the terrain of economic struggle. This defensive action of
the working class is common to all workers regardless of their ideology,
their political convictions. Its root lies not in a fact of ideas or will,
but in the real material circumstances in which workers live. This action
is expressed in an appropriate organisational form: the economic, trade
union organisation, which brings workers together as wage-labourers, as
those subject to the material pressure of the capitalist mode of
production. The workers’ organisation for the conduct of the economic
struggle, therefore, does not bring workers together on the basis of
adherence to a purpose, to a political programme, but brings them together
as workers, as wage-labourers who are in the same material situation, who
feel they have the same immediate interests to defend.
The final end, the acknowledgement that the economic struggle itself is
insufficient and must therefore transcend into a general political
struggle of the entire class for the conquest of power, and the provision
of material and ideal means for this struggle, is the proper task of the
political party. The Party, therefore, is not defined by its social
composition, nor by the environment in which it recruits its members, nor
by an organisational structure placed on the surface of the working class
by category or by workplace; it is defined, on the contrary, precisely by
its tendency towards an end and therefore by its revolutionary political
programme. One adheres to it only insofar as one accepts its theory,
programme, principles, aims, and one can be a worker or non-worker. One
becomes, in Lenin’s formula, a ‘professional revolutionary’.
There is thus a clear distinction between organisations that qualify as
being of workers, i.e., bringing together all the wage-labourers of a
given company, production category, or industrial sector, with a view to
the defence of contingent interests common to all, and the political
organisation of the proletariat, characterised by its positions and aims.
A clear distinction, which in no way signifies the absence of relations
and reciprocal bonds, but rather the execution of class functions that
cannot coincide in the same organisation, just as in the human body the
brain does not coincide with the stomach, although there is a very close
and indispensable connection and reciprocal influence between one organ
and the other.
In fact, the political consciousness of the working class, of its general
aims, surpassing companies and categories, and historical aims, thus
surpassing the very succession of generations of workers, is materialised
in a specific organ, the class political party, which brings together only
a minority of the class, on the basis of adherence to a goal, a programme,
and specific political positions. This political organ ‘imports’ (Lenin’s
formula) political consciousness into the strata of workers that the
situation sets in motion.
But this importation does not take place in the sense of a dissolution of
the political party in the workers’ organisations, nor does it resolve
itself in an ‘educational’ work that should raise the consciousness of the
proletarian masses until the moment when the special party organ is no
longer needed, or this will be reduced to a simple technical element of
conducting the struggle. On the contrary, it comes about through an action
that tends to influence the workers’ organisations, to establish the
closest links between them and the party organ, to strengthen this same
organ through the passage to it of those proletarians who acquire, in the
course of the struggle itself, the consciousness of the Party’s aims and
who accept its positions integrally and
en bloc
.
The proletarian class manifests its existence historically and materially
in the famous pyramid form that expresses the complexity of its class
struggle and organisation: Party–Soviet–Union. None of these class organs
can be considered useless or “outdated”: it is in the existence of all
three, and in the intersection of their relationship and vicissitudes,
that the class struggling for its complete emancipation manifests itself.
In our 1951 text
Revolutionary party and economic action
, we
defined the factors of the revolutionary process as follows: 1) a large,
numerous proletariat of pure wage-earners, 2) a sizeable movement of
associations with an economic content including a large part of the
proletariat, 3) The presence of the specific class party organ and its
influence on the economic bodies of the class itself through its organised
network of communist groups in the economic organisations.
On the same basis and in the same sense is our classic assertion: only
the political Party represents the revolutionary purpose of the class. The
other class organisations, which are so insofar as they bring workers
together, can be influenced and subjugated to non-revolutionary,
bourgeois, social-conservative, even counter-revolutionary directions and
perspectives.
This happens not only because the bourgeoisie tends to influence the
working class with all its powerful material and spiritual means, and to
corrupt it in a thousand ways, the most damaging of which is always that
of opportunism, but also because, at least on an immediate and partial
level, the interests of individual groups and strata of workers are not at
all incompatible with the permanence of the capitalist mode of production,
with bourgeois rule, even if on a general and historical level they
contradict the interests of the class as a whole. It is only at certain
critical moments in history that even immediate and partial interests of
workers’ groups come into open contradiction with the capitalist mode of
production, and it is at these moments that the only body that has a
historical and global vision of class interests can usefully win over the
immediate workers’ bodies to its influence.
This applies not only to trade union, economic organisations, but also to
bodies, such as soviets, that express the workers’ tendency to
revolutionary struggle.
All workers’ organisations must therefore be won over to the
revolutionary perspective by the action within them of the revolutionary
organisation, the political party. Otherwise, they are powerless from the
revolutionary point of view, while remaining workers’ organisations.
We find here a fundamental and constant line of the Marxist approach.
Workers as such can at best arrive at the consciousness of the need to
defend their living conditions and to organise themselves for this
defence. The transition from this elementary, ‘trade unionist’
consciousness to political, socialist consciousness only takes place
through the intervention and influence of the political party. Otherwise,
the economic struggle and economic organisations may be subject to
non-revolutionary perspectives and directions, may be directed according
to bourgeois politics. Trade-unionism, Lenin says, is the bourgeois
politics of the working class.
Role the party in the Theses of the Communist International
These elementary notions we have recalled are the result of the
experience of the entire world proletarian struggle over a century. They
were the basis of the gigantic work carried out by the Communist
International. We quote from
Theses on the role of the Communist Party
in the proletarian revolution
(1920):
2. Until the time when state power has been conquered by the
proletariat, and the proletariat has established its rule once and for
all and secured it from bourgeois restoration, until that time the
Communist Party will only have the minority of the working class
organised in its ranks. Until the seizure of power and during the period
of transition the Communist Party is able, under favourable conditions,
to exercise undisputed mental and political influence over all the
proletarian and half-proletarian layers of the population, but is not
able to unite them organisationally in its ranks.…
3. The concept of the party and that of the class must be kept strictly
separate. The members of the “Christian” and liberal trade unions of
Germany, England and other countries are undoubtedly part of the working
class. The more or less significant sections of workers who still stand
behind Scheidemann, Gompers, and company are undoubtedly part of the
working class. It is very possible that, under certain historical
circumstances, the working class can become interspersed with numerous
reactionary layers. The task of communism does not lie in accommodating
to these backward parts of the working class, but in raising the whole
of the working class to the level of the communist vanguard. The
confusion of these two concepts – party and class – can lead to the
greatest mistakes and confusion. Thus it is clear, for example, that
during the imperialist war, despite the moods and prejudices of a
certain section of the working class, the workers’ party had to oppose
these moods and prejudices at any cost and represent the historical
interests of the working class, which demanded that the proletarian
party declared war on war.…
The rise of the soviets as the basic historical form of the
dictatorship by no means decreases the leading role of the Communist
Party in the proletarian revolution. If the “Left” Communists of Germany
(
cf
. their appeal to the German proletariat of April 14, 1920
signed ‘The Communist Workers’ Party of Germany’) declare: ‘That the
Party too adapts more and more to the idea of Soviets, and takes on a
proletarian character’ (
Kommunistische Arbeiterzeitung
, no. 54),
then this is a confused expression of the idea that the Communist Party
must dissolve itself into the soviets, that the soviets can replace the
Communist Party.
This idea is fundamentally false and reactionary.
In the history of the Russian revolution we experienced a whole period
in which the soviets marched against the proletarian party and supported
the policies of the agents of the bourgeoisie. The same thing could be
observed in Germany. The same thing is also possible in other countries.
On the contrary, the existence of a powerful Communist Party is
necessary in order to enable the soviets to do justice to their historic
tasks, a party that does not simply “adapt itself” to the soviets, but
is in a position to make them renounce “adaptations” of their own to the
bourgeoisie and White Guard social democracy, a party which, by means of
the Communist factions in the soviets, is in a position to take the
soviets under the leadership of the Communist Party.
We have reported this long quotation in order to compare it with the
Theses
on trade unions and workers councils
because, from the admission
that only the party is the revolutionary organ of the class, communists
have never implied a devaluation of the importance of the immediate
organisms of the class itself, but rather their exact characterisation:
organisations, the trade unions and soviets, whose function does not
derive from their more or less revolutionary nature, but from their
characteristic as workers’ organisations which become organs of the
revolution only insofar as they subordinate themselves to the political
direction of the Party.
Closed party – open workers’ organisations
We are on two globally opposite and divergent paths, we, and all
“leftists” then and now. We are on the side, with the International and
with Lenin, of the ‘most precise and sharpest distinction between the
notions of party and class’. The Party, the political organ of the class,
is the sole repository of class consciousness insofar as it possesses, as
a collective organ, an interpretative theory which allows it to read the
facts of history, it possesses a set of principles and aims which are
based on this theory, a programme which describes the entire cycle of the
proletarian revolution, a set of tactical lines which are correlated to
the principles, the aims, the programme and according to which the
fighting organ orients itself in the various contingent situations. This
historical heritage, which is nothing other than the condensation of the
teachings of the practical struggle of the proletariat on a world scale
and over the course of more than a century, cannot belong to any workers’
generation, to any workers’ group driven to the struggle by contingent
demands. It can only belong to a historical organism that has never ceased
the battle by maintaining a continuity of thought, action and organisation
in the ups and downs of the class struggle and that has thus been able to
draw the lessons of all past struggles and forge on this basis a clear and
inflexible direction for the conduct of future struggles.
Representing the preservation, defence and utilisation in practical
struggle of this monolithic block of positions, the Party can only be
closed and strictly delimited in its organisation. The political direction
of the Party is indispensable to lead the proletarian struggle in the
revolutionary sense, but it is a result of the historical and global
course of this struggle, it is not something that can be questioned or
democratically submitted to the approval of each group or category of
workers that the situation pushes to the struggle. One accepts it, even
without understanding it individually, recognising it as the irreplaceable
weapon of the revolutionary class struggle. And only those who accept it
entirely and globally enter the party organisation. The Party is therefore
an organism closed to all those, even proletarians, even combatants, who
do not accept its positions
en bloc
.
Workers’ organisations, both economic and political of the soviet type,
have a useful function in the class struggle because they are open, i.e.,
they are constituted in such a way as to include as many workers as
possible from a company, category, or locality. For the same functions
they propose, they need to unite all the workers who are in the same
economic conditions or on the same territory. A workers’ organisation that
exists for the purpose of conducting the economic struggle against the
bosses, which is not suitable for bringing together in principle all the
workers of the category to which it is addressed, would thereby nullify
its function. The same can be said of Soviets which, being territorial
bodies of the workers in order to exercise power, must necessarily be open
to all workers in a given locality.
Not only that, but as these bodies are open to all workers, to the
exclusion of those belonging to other social classes, they must also
necessarily be open to all political ideologies within the proletariat, to
the influence of all proletarian parties. They cannot discriminate against
workers on either a political or religious basis. Only in this way can
they fulfil the function for which they were born and live in the events
of the class struggle.
Communists, advocates of the utmost closure of the class political organ,
have always been those who have not only always understood the nature and
necessity of the immediate workers’ bodies, but have also always been
those who have defended their working-class, i.e., open, character against
all deviations, not only opportunist, but also “leftist”.
Naturally, just as there is a class delimitation in the physical sense,
whereby only those belonging to a particular class, that of wage-earning
workers, organise, so there is a delimitation from the organs of the
bourgeois state, from the influence of openly bourgeois parties that deny
in principle the workers the real right to defend their living and working
conditions through class struggle and autonomous class organisation. That
is, they deny the very function for which the immediate organisations
arise. But this is the only organisational delimitation of these bodies.
“Left” communism in 1920 and today
Far be it for us to draw a parallel between the “leftism” that we could
call serious, the “leftism” of the Germans, who were roundly condemned in
1920 by Lenin, and who to a large extent represented, like the earlier
Italian or French anarcho-syndicalism, a response of large groups and
strata of workers fighting against the betrayal of social democracy, and
the "leftism" of the more or less numerous fringe groups of today’s
“leftists”, who represent nothing more than petit-bourgeois burst that has
nothing to do with the working-class movement. The only accomplishment of
this “new leftist comic opera” has been to divert the small number of
workers who felt the need to oppose the unbridled opportunism of the
national, official Communist parties into their various false and impotent
positions.
We draw the parallel only to demonstrate the irreversible and total
divergence of the Marxist Communist Party’s approach from that of these
alleged “neighbours”, showing that it dates not from today but from fifty
years ago, and taking into account the proportions and seriousness of the
matter.
The “leftism” of the German communists in 1920 started, like that of
today’s “leftists”, from a pole opposite to our Marxist one; from the most
complete ‘confusion of the concepts of party and class’. This confusion,
which is tantamount to being out of the Marxist mainstream forever, led
the German KAPD, like the Italian Ordinovists, to a failure to understand,
on the one hand, the primary function of the Party and the necessity of
its existence as a centralised and disciplined organ for directing the
revolutionary struggle, and on the other hand, and consequently, to a
denial of the function of the immediate workers’ organisations.
Avid supporters of the Party “dissolving into the Soviets”, of “workers’
democracy”, of the Party and the dictatorship “not of the bosses, but of
the masses”, they at the same time argued for the “destruction of trade
unions” as outdated forms of proletarian organisation, and were for the
formation of workers’ organisations based on ideological foundations.
The proletarian party had to “open up”, the immediate workers’
organisations had to “withdraw into themselves”. The same trait – here is
the validity of the historical parallel – characterises all the “leftists”
of today. While they doggedly fight against the dogmatism and sectarianism
of the party, they are incapable of understanding the necessity of the
immediate economic organisations of the proletariat, and invent various
forms of workers’ “committees”, “collectives”, “leagues”, which are
nothing but the trade union duplication of their political organisations.
Unions and Soviets
When we talk about immediate working-class bodies we are faced with
another question from the usual “form-researchers”.
Are these immediate bodies to be the Soviets or the trade unions?
Economic organisms or political organisms? The appearance of the Soviet
form in fact made a big impression since 1917 on the petty-bourgeois who
saw the class struggle as a theatrical performance. It was said then that
this was the new form finally discovered of proletarian organisation and
that this form would render both the political party and the trade union
useless.
It is hard for the petit-bourgeois to think that the struggle between the
classes arises from the stomach, i.e., from the immediate, everyday needs
of the masses and not from ideas, and he finds it very hard to convince
himself that the workers arrive at the “heroic” act of attacking bourgeois
power and founding a new society from the vulgar fact of not wanting to
starve. Consequently, trade union organisation has always been frowned
upon by the petit-bourgeois, who in his heart strives to “overcome” it and
move directly to “superior” forms of struggle. We will spare the reader
the myriad alleged demonstrations concerning ‘overcoming the struggle for
demands’, the ‘trade union form itself’, etc., with the corollary that
only adequate “education” can lead workers to revolution. He has,
unfortunately, perhaps more knowledge of them than we do.
In any case, the question has arisen and is posed thus:
The Soviets, or Workers’, Peasants’, and Soldiers’ Councils, are the
organs by which the working class exercises political power after it
has revolutionarily overthrown the power of the bourgeois State and
suppressed its representative organs (parliament, city councils, etc.)
They are the ‘State organs’ of the proletariat.
The Soviets are elected exclusively by the workers, as all those who
use wage-labour and otherwise exploit the proletariat are excluded
from electoral rights. This is their substantial characteristic, all
other modes of their constitution being entirely secondary.…
Workers’ councils arise at the moment of proletarian insurrection.
However, they can also arise at a historical moment when the power of
the bourgeoisie is going through a crisis and historical consciousness
and the propensity to assume power is widespread in the proletariat.
The revolutionary question lies not in the formal creation of the
councils, but in the transfer of political power into their hands.
The instrument of the political struggle of the proletariat is the
class party, the Communist Party…
(
Theses on the constitution of workers’ councils proposed
by the Central Committee of the Communist Abstentionist Fraction of
the PSI
, 1920)
The above facts show that certain preconditions are necessary for the
creation of soviets. We can and must organise workers’ Soviets and
transform them into soviets of workers’ and soldiers’ deputies only
under the following three conditions: (a) A mass revolutionary drive
in the widest circles of workers, soldiers, and the toiling masses;
(b) A deepening of the economic and political crisis to such an extent
that power begins to slip out of the hands of the established
governments; (c) The maturing in the ranks of considerable layers of
workers and above all of the Communist Party of the firm decision to
engage in a decisive, systematic and planned struggle for power…
Attempts by individual communist groups in France, Italy, America and
England to create Soviets which nevertheless do not embrace large
masses of workers, and which therefore cannot wage a direct struggle
for power, only damage the real work of preparing the Soviet
revolution…
Without revolution, the Soviets are impossible. Soviets without
proletarian revolution inevitably turn into a parody of Soviets. Real
mass Soviets appear as the historically given form of the dictatorship
of the proletariat…
(
Theses of the Third International on the conditions of
establishment of workers’ councils
, 1920)
The Soviets are thus the organisms that the working class forges for the
conquest of power and the exercise of dictatorship, a conquest and
exercise that is, however, only possible insofar as these workers’
organisations that express such need and necessity are permeated and
influenced by the political party, the only organism that can truly
conquer power and exercise dictatorship.
The Soviets, therefore, are not characterised by their orientation or
their intrinsically revolutionary nature, but by their workers’ structure
which makes them suitable, once they are conquered by the party’s
influence, to assume and exercise political power. But above all, and this
is what we want to emphasise, they do not constitute a substitute form for
workers’ organisations of an economic, defensive, trade union nature.
They represent a different function of the class which in a thousand ways
can be combined with the defensive, economic function, but which does not
annul it or render it useless. Leaving behind the mechanism of “forms of
organisation” and aiming at the substance, we would say that workers need
class economic organisations to conduct their daily struggle against the
effects of capitalist oppression, and therefore on the economic terrain (a
thousand forms, a thousand possible combinations; one and irreplaceable
function: to be organisms constitutionally accessible only to workers, to
serve the defence of wages, of workplace, of daily bread). Whereas in
periods when the social struggle is close to turning into a struggle for
power, workers need, and therefore arise, workers’ organisms suitable for
exercising the state functions of the proletarian dictatorship.
In terms of forms, it can even be the workers’ economic defence
organisations themselves that, as the struggle radicalises and under the
influence of the party, can assume the function of the political assault
on bourgeois power and the destruction of the bourgeois state.
When we speak of the immediate organisms of the working class, we
therefore mean to speak, beyond the specific and contingent forms, of the
organisms that the class is forced to give itself, driven by its
unavoidable needs. We speak of functions and needs rather than forms. And
to argue that the working class can do without immediate economic
organisms is no more or less to argue that it can do without the struggle
for demands. It means denying the fundamental assumption of all Marxism
that political struggle is nothing but the critical precipitation at
certain moments, and under the influence of the party, of the very
struggle that workers wage to defend their living conditions.
Economic struggles organisms and political party
In another respect, our Marxist vision combats the mechanistic approach
of the “form-seekers”. If without revolution the Soviets become a parody
and are condemned to die, if their tendency to conquer political power can
only find its outlet, its realisation only under the direction of the
revolutionary class party, degenerating otherwise to empty forms powerless
to realise themselves, the same,
a fortiori
, applies to the
workers’ economic defence organisations and to the economic struggle
itself. Workers’ struggles and organisations are rendered null and
ineffective, they close themselves off in the defence of narrow corporate
interests, in the defence of one group of workers at the expense of
another, they become powerless to the very function for which they arose
when they are influenced and directed by bourgeois, conservative,
anti-revolutionary politics. Their very function of economic defence is
only ‘completed and integrated’ when the class political party is at their
head, just as the immediate results that the workers wrest from their
daily struggles only become stable and real achievements through the
proletariat’s conquest of power.
Immediate economic bodies can only fully perform their function by
subordinating themselves to the revolutionary orientation, and are subject
to becoming powerless to perform this same elementary function by
subordinating themselves to a bourgeois or opportunist orientation.
But this reality cannot be disentangled in formal terms by hypothesising
workers’ organisms
per se
capable of not being influenced by the
class adversary, constitutionally or physiologically suited never to
betray even immediate class interests. The contradiction is resolved in
the heart of the historical dynamic of the class struggle that drives
workers to forge weapons for the defence of their daily bread and sees
around these class organisms the death struggle between the political
direction of their subjection to the demands of social preservation, to
the bourgeois state, to the point of becoming a cog in the machinery of
the state, and the direction that tends to bring them into the field of
revolution and therefore also to strengthen, extend and deepen their
action.
If today’s tricolour trade unions are the result of the subjugation of
workers’ organiations to fifty years of reactionary bourgeois politics,
the Red unions of 1921–26 were the result of the conquest of the immediate
workers’ organisms to the revolutionary direction. Historically, the
economic organisms of the working class are faced with the alternative:
either submit to bourgeois politics, and thus become, in the long run,
ineffective for the very purposes of class defence on the economic
terrain, or submit to the revolutionary orientation and lead the economic
struggle to its historically culminating and definitive point: the
conquest of political power, the establishment of the proletarian
dictatorship.
But while this may be distasteful to those who view history in a
mechanistic and formalistic manner, this does not detract from the fact
that, in reality, economic struggles and workers’ economic organisations
form the concrete, material basis of revolutionary action. Historically,
the bourgeoisie has always attempted to subjugate the workers’ movement
and economic organisation to its interests, knowing full well that the
revolutionary political struggle of the proletariat could be grafted onto
this ground, which is ineliminable because it springs from the very bowels
of capitalist society. Historically, the Communist Party has countered
this process step by step, knowing full well that without the party’s
conquest of the network of immediate economic organisations it is
impossible to undertake the conquest of political power.
Historically, the revolution has lost its battle on the world scale, and
the consequence has been, and could not but be, the enfeoffment to the
bourgeois state of the workers’ organisms. But the party knows that the
wheel of the revolutionary process will be set in motion again to the
extent that the working class will be capable of expressing its organisms
of economic struggle once more, thus re-proposing the real terrain on
which the clash between revolution and counter-revolution will be played
out once more.
The Communist International and trade unions
This is how the
Theses of the 2nd Congress of the International on
trade unions and workers’ councils
re-proposed the Marxist view of
the relationship between the party and economic bodies. The task of the
communists was not then, as it is not now, to invent “new forms” of
organisation and struggle, but to work on extending their influence into
all the immediate organisms of the proletariat, knowing that only this
action of the party can transform them into organs of the revolutionary
struggle. And since the workers were organising and fighting in the
reactionary unions, led by the worst opportunists, the task of the
communists was to remain in these bodies and win them over to the party’s
influence:
In order to gain victory in the economic struggle, the great working
masses who hitherto remained outside the trade unions are flocking to
their ranks. In all capitalist countries there is a strong strengthening
of the trade unions, which are now an organisation no longer of the
advanced part of the proletariat alone, but of its great masses. By
flocking to the trade unions, they seek to make them their fighting
weapon. The increasingly bitter class contrasts force the trade unions
to take the lead in strikes, which engulf the entire capitalist world in
mighty waves and constantly interrupt the process of production and
exchange. By raising their demands in parallel with rising prices and
increasing misery, the working masses upset the foundations of every
capitalist calculation, this elementary assumption of every orderly
economy. The trade unions which, during the war, had become organs of
influence of the working masses in the interests of the bourgeoisie
become organs of destruction of capitalism…
In view of the influx of powerful working-class masses into the trade
unions, in view of the objectively revolutionary character of the
economic struggle that these masses wage in opposition to the trade
union bureaucracy, communists must in all countries enter the trade
unions to make them organs of struggle for the overthrow of capitalism,
for communism. They must take the initiative in setting up trade unions
where they do not exist.
Any voluntary alienation from the trade union movement, any artificial
attempt to create particular trade unions without being forced to do so
by exceptional acts of violence by the trade union bureaucracy
(dissolution of local revolutionary groups in the trade unions by
opportunist centres) or by its narrowly aristocratic policy, which
prohibits large masses of low-skilled workers from joining
organisations, represents a grave danger to the communist movement. It
threatens to hand over to opportunist bosses working in the service of
the bourgeoisie the most advanced workers, most endowed with class
consciousness.
The weakness of the working masses, their indecision, their
accessibility to the fictitious arguments of the opportunist bosses, can
only be overcome, as the struggle intensifies, to the extent that the
broadest strata of the working class learn, through their own
experience, through their victories and defeats, that on the basis of
the capitalist economic system human living conditions can no longer be
achieved; to the extent that the advanced communist workers learn to be,
in the economic struggle, not only the propagandists of the ideas of
communism, but also the most decisive leaders of the economic struggle
and of the trade unions…
Since communists attach more importance to the aims and nature of trade
union organisation than to its form, they must not retreat from a split
in the trade union organisations, if renouncing the split were to amount
to renouncing revolutionary work in the trade unions, renouncing the
attempt to make them an instrument of the revolutionary struggle,
renouncing the organisation of the most exploited sectors of the
proletariat. But even if such a split proves to be necessary, it must
only proceed if the communists succeed, through a relentless struggle
against the opportunist leaders and their tactics and through the most
active participation in the economic struggles, in convincing the broad
working masses that the split is being undertaken not for remote
revolutionary objectives still incomprehensible to them, but for the
concrete and most immediate interest of the working class in the
development of its struggles for demands. Communists, should a split
become necessary, must consider with the utmost care whether it will not
lead to their isolation from the working masses.
The tendency to create factory councils, which animates workers in
various countries more and more every day, originates from the most
varied causes (struggle against counter-revolutionary bureaucracy,
demoralisation after defeats in the purely claiming struggle, effort to
create organisations that embrace all workers), but it always and
everywhere leads to the struggle for control of industry, the specific
historical task of factory councils. It is therefore a mistake to want
to organise factory councils with only workers already on the terrain of
the dictatorship of the proletariat. On the contrary, the communist
party’s task is to take advantage of the economic ruin to organise all
workers and arm them for the struggle for the dictatorship of the
proletariat.
From what is written in the Theses we reconfirm a conclusion found in all
our post-World War II texts. It is not the political line of the trade
union, however fetid it may be, that determines the exit of communists
from it. Communists must soldier on in the economic organisations, even if
they are directed by a counter-revolutionary policy, and work to win them
over on other conditions: 1) That they be allowed to carry out the work of
revolutionary influence in the union (in other words, that the union in
fact allows the expression of political currents within it). 2) That no
preclusion be placed on the organisation of all workers in a particular
category or branch of industry. Given these conditions, the communists do
not pursue the break-up of the existing trade unions, but work within them
to undertake their conquest, ‘perhaps with a beating’.
Should these conditions no longer exist in a given trade union body
(which in fact means that it is losing its very nature as a trade union)
communists do not advocate the organisation of only those workers who
follow party policy or adhere to certain positions, but rather the rebirth
of economic bodies open to all workers and within which they can carry out
their revolutionary work.
The Red International of Trade Unions (Profintern)
The Profintern, in line with the above, did not aim to unite only those
workers who accepted the principles of revolution and communism, but those
trade unions and economic bodies of all workers (factory, trade, industry)
that were won over and submitted to the revolutionary direction.
Its Statutes state in point 4:
Any economic organisation of a revolutionary class character which
accepts the following conditions may become a member of the
International of Red Trade Unions:
1) Recognition of the principles of the revolutionary class struggle;
2) Implementation of these principles in the day-to-day struggle
against capital and the bourgeois state;
3) Recognition of the necessity of overthrowing capitalism by means of
social revolution, and of establishing, in the period of transition, the
dictatorship of the proletariat…
7) Unity of action with all revolutionary organisations and with the
communist party of its country, in all defensive and offensive actions
against the bourgeoisie.
The trade union bodies that adhered to the Red International remained
workers’ bodies open to all workers of whatever opinion or ideology they
were. It was these same economic bodies of all workers that recognised the
influence and direction of the communist orientation, without losing their
character as trade union bodies. This was completely opposite to the claim
of the “left” then, as now, to create bodies that brought together only
those workers who shared revolutionary principles. The Theses of the Red
Trade Union International itself (voted on at its First Congress in 1921)
raged against this anti-Marxist position:
The gathering of revolutionary forces in the trade union movement must
be done through factory and enterprise councils. These councils must be
elected by all workers in a given firm, regardless of their political
and religious views. The attempt to create factory and enterprise
councils in the form of cliques of members of the same tendency, as is
the case with the
Allgemeiner Deutscher Gewerkschaftsbund
in
Germany, constitutes in itself a caricature of factory councils and
discredits among the masses the very idea of such an organisation.
In reality, under the pseudonym of factory councils, the
Allgemeiner
Deutscher Gewerkschaftsbund
merely constitutes its fraction
nuclei, an indisputable right for every organisation: but it is useless
in this case to attach such pompous labels to these nuclei…
The anti-revolutionary attitude currently being adopted by the trade
union bureaucracy, the help it has given to the repression of the
workers’ revolutionary movement, has led a section of proletarians and
revolutionaries throughout the world to break away from the trade unions
and create new, purely revolutionary organisations of their own, hence
the watchwords ‘destroy the trade unions’, ‘outside the trade unions’
which find a certain sympathy among the most desperate revolutionary
elements, made pessimistic by the inertia of the masses. Such tactics of
driving out the revolutionary elements, and abandoning the trade unions,
millions of proletarians, to the unchallenged influence of the traitors
of the working class, play into the hands of the trade union bureaucracy
and must therefore be decisively and categorically rejected. Not
destruction, but conquest of the trade unions, i.e., of the masses
organised in the old trade unions: this is the watchword around which
the revolutionary struggle must be organised and develop…
The advocates of the Red International would be making a most serious
mistake… if they abandoned the trade unions and shut themselves up in
the small revolutionary trade union groupings. The workers expelled from
the unions must not disperse, but must remain organised in the same
framework to which they belonged before their exclusion, continuously
acting as a regular and legitimate member of the union that expelled
them…
The task of the revolutionary elements of the trade union movement
therefore consists, not in detaching the best and most conscious workers
from the trade unions and forming small organisations of them, but in
infusing the trade unions with a revolutionary spirit by remaining
within them, claiming the revolutionary aspirations of the working-class
day by day, and thus trying to transform them into instruments of the
social revolution.
All organising work in the old trade unions must be aimed at combating
the passivity and betrayal of the trade union bureaucracy in the course
of the struggle for the day-to-day interests of the workers. Conquering
the trade unions means conquering the workers’ mass, which can only be
conquered by systematic and stubborn work, by continually highlighting
the contrast between the tendency of compromise and class collaboration
and our strictly revolutionary tendency. The motto ‘outside the trade
unions’ prevents us from conquering the masses and thus distances us
from the social revolution’.
Another blow to the “form-worshippers”, this time to the
“union-form-worshippers”, who are still numerous today. The Theses in fact
continue:
But it would also be a mistake to regard trade union organisations as
an end in themselves. Trade unions are not an end, they are the means to
the end; and so, while we reject the watchword of ‘outside the trade
unions!’, we must in the most resolute way also assert ourselves against
the fetishism of organisation and the watchword of ‘unity at any cost
and without reservation’. Conquering the unions does not mean seizing
the union treasury and union property, but conquering the souls of union
members. Many comrades forget this distinction, often confusing the
union with its premises, its till, and its management. Such point of
view must be categorically rejected by the revolutionary class unions
These are for unity and against the split, but they do not fear the
split: here is a point that must be clear to each of us.
Fifty years of unchallenged opportunist domination of the workers’ unions
combined with the capitalist tendency for unions to be subservient to the
state and its machinery, and the almost absolute absence of the
proletariat from the revolutionary struggle, have undoubtedly given
today’s unions a far more reactionary characteristic than those of 1921,
have managed to deform their practice and organisation itself in a far
more deleterious way than what the opportunists of the first post-war
period could do, pressed behind by a proletariat in struggle at the
European level. The tricolour unions of today are certainly not the class
unions of 1921. This changes the terms of the party’s tactics towards
these unions, but it does not at all change the general terms of the
party’s position towards the class economic bodies that the workers,
having returned to the struggle, will be forced to reconstitute. Along the
lines of its Marxist tradition the party, unlike all other
pseudo-revolutionary groupings, points to the resumption of class action
on the economic terrain and the rebirth of class economic organisations
conquered by the party and open to all workers as the road to the
resumption of revolutionary struggle.
(continued in the next issue)