On Henryk Grossman, A Revolutionary Marxist – An Interview with Rick Kuhn

Rick Kuhn’s Henryk Grossman and the Recovery of Marxism (University of Illinois Press/Amazon) is not just another biographical sketch of a Marxian economist. In fact, it is an authoritative attempt to understand and interpret Grossman’s contributions to the Marxist critique of political economy as realizations of his lifelong commitment to the working class and revolutionary politics. The book begins with a comprehensive and lucid survey of Grossman’s political activism at the turn of the twentieth century, when capitalist expansion, intensification and competition were increasingly met with a rise in the self-activity and organization of the working class against exploitation and national oppression. The biography shows how Grossman’s approach to Marxism and his theoretical agenda congealed against this backdrop. This entirely new approach to Grossman’s Marxism makes his complex theoretical insights equally accessible to political economists, activists and non-academic audience. The following discussion with Rick Kuhn touches upon some of the themes in Grossman’s life and work detailed in the book.

Radical Notes (RN): Let us begin by asking you about the meaning of the title that you chose for this tremendous biography, Henryk Grossman and the Recovery of Marxism. It seems it has a dual connotation. On the one hand, it maygrossman signify that the book tries to detail Grossman’s role in the recovery of Marxism during his own time, while on the other, it might be an attempt to assess the importance of Grossman’s contributions for the “recovery of Marxism” in our times. Is this ‘ambiguity’ intended, or we are just reading between the lines?

Rick Kuhn: The history of Marxism is not simply a history of doctrines and debates. We have to apply historical materialism to Marxism itself. Marx’s insights were only possible once capitalist society and particularly working class struggle had reached a certain level of development, in the middle of the nineteenth century. Without the growth of capitalist production and hence an extensive working class, Marxism, the theory and practice of working class revolution, is inconceivable. Later insights into the nature of capitalist society, and even more broadly, human society and its relations with nature, emerged in the context of the growth and achievements of the working class and the engagement of Marxists with new problems.

But the curve of Marxist theory is not a monotonic, upward sweep of accumulating insights. Particularly during periods of working class defeat or the adaptation of working class institutions to capitalism, earlier insights have been lost, distorted and denied. Under new, more favorable circumstances, later Marxists rediscover or reinvent them. Thus struggles for women’s liberation and over the environment were the contexts for recoveries and extensions of Marx’s previously neglected, misunderstood or obscured analyses of women’s oppression and capitalism’s implications for the natural world. Hence the work of recovery, in the first case, by Hal Draper, Barbara Leacock, Karen Sacks during the late 1960s and 1970s, and in the second by Paul Burkett and John Bellamy Foster around the turn of the millennium.

Against the background of his experiences in the workers’ movement before and after the First World War, and particularly the upsurge in class struggle during the period of the Russian revolution, Henryk Grossman recovered and extended some fundamental aspects of Marx’s critique of political economy. But Grossman’s best known publications during the late 1920s and early 1930s appeared after the revolutionary wave had crested. He continued his work in Marxist economics through to the 1940s and also made important contributions to the history of science. As Victor Serge put it, the 1930s were ‘the midnight in the century’. As a consequence of Stalinism and fascism the workers’ movement suffered not only terrible physical but also theoretical setbacks.

Hence, as you correctly observe, the need to recover Grossman’s own analyses and to re-recover those of Marx. The German New Left rediscovered Grossman during the 1960s in the context of a massive, international revival of class and other social struggles. I have continued this process. The later stages of my project happily coincided with the movement against capitalist globalization and the largest anti-war movement in history.

RN: One aspect that strikes us most in the text is that you have devoted around one third of the biography to Grossman’s formative period – to his politics in Poland and his contributions to a Marxist theorization of the national and Jewish questions. One reason, which immediately comes to mind, might be an attempt to rebut the general image of Grossman as an academic economist, not as a communist revolutionary, which you have effectively portrayed him to be. What lessons do we get from his early political life and his contributions to direct political questions like the question of national self-determination and its relationship with the proletarian revolution?

Kuhn: Those aware of Grossman’s work in economics have generally had little awareness, to put it kindly, of his engagement with working class organizations and their struggles. Just reading his publications, it is not difficult to spot his identification with the interests of the working class and commitment to the goal of socialist revolution. But those who propound the dominant interpretation of his economics still ignore this and have not bothered to investigate the details of his non-academic life especially before the First World War.

Although Grossman’s family background was bourgeois, he became an organic intellectual of the working class. In other words, experiences in his twenties, with building the organizations of the Jewish workers in Galicia (Austria-Hungary’s Polish province) from about 1902, at the latest, until after 1908 shaped his outlook. Despite some political shifts, for the rest of his life his understanding of the world was Marxist.

Grossman was the theoretician and outstanding early leader of the Jewish Social Democratic Party of Galicia. Before the foundation of the Jewish Social Democratic Party (JSDP), in 1905, he provided assistance to Marxists in Russia’s Polish territories. They were members of the Social Democratic Party of the Kingdom of Poland and Lithuania, to which the exiled Rosa Luxemburg belonged, and particularly the Bund, the organization of Jewish workers and then the largest Marxist organization in the Russian empire. During the waves of demonstrations, strikes and protests that swept Austria-Hungary when the 1905 Revolution was convulsing Russia, Grossman was a full-time revolutionary and agitator.

Jewish workers in Galicia, who overwhelmingly spoke Yiddish, experienced national oppression and exploitation. To mobilize them into the international workers movement they needed, Grossman argued, their own political party through which they could struggle for their own emancipation and that of the entire working class. The JSDP was a means of fighting oppression and exploitation and combating the politics of other left wing currents in Galicia. To neglect their national oppression, as the Polish nationalists of the Polish Social Democratic Party of Galicia did, left them open to the appeals of Jewish nationalists. Ignoring their exploitation and common interests with Polish and Ukrainian workers in Galicia and the international movement could only weaken their defense of their wages and conditions and the overall struggle for socialism.

So Grossman belonged to the very substantial tradition of opposition to Zionism amongst Jewish socialists. This is something I particularly identify with, as a Marxist with a Jewish upbringing whose political activity includes supporting Palestinian resistance against the intrinsically racist state of Israel. The relationship between racism and capitalist interests is also a focus in my current work on anti-Muslim racism in Australia.

RN: What are the major facets of Grossman’s rediscovery of the Marxist critique of political economy?

Kuhn: Key elements of Grossman’s economic work were already evident in his first publication on crisis theory, a lecture delivered in 1919. They were the relationship of economics to the class struggle, the importance of the distinction between use and exchange-value, Marx’s method in Capital and the inevitability of economic crises under capitalism.

The last is best known. Grossman argued that the tendency for the rate of profit to fall, discussed by Marx in volume three of Capital, constitutes a propensity for the system to break down. The tendency occurs because investment in improved labour-saving technology increases the ratio of capitalists’ outlays on machinery, equipment, buildings etc. compared with what they spend on purchasing labour power. It is only labour power, however, that creates new value, the basis of profits. Following and extending Marx, Grossman identified a variety of countervailing factors that can help maintain or improve profit rates. In fact he went into some detail about all the processes critics allege that he neglected. The offsetting mechanisms mean that the tendency to break down takes, in the longer term, the shape of successive crises rather than a single downward path to collapse.

Capitalist crises can also, Grossman pointed out, be understood in terms the impossibility of the outputs of different industries being consistently in the right proportions to maintain smooth growth. Both explanations of economic crises ultimately derive from the contradiction at the heart of capitalist production which is simultaneously the creation of use values, for the satisfaction of human needs, and of values, in the pursuit of profit.

RN: Throughout your work, not only in the book but also in other research articles, you have questioned the economistic and schematic interpretations of Grossman’s theory of crises. In fact you find the intersection between revolutionary politics and his classical Marxist theory of crises based on the decline in the rate of profit as “the core of Grossman’s major theoretical project in economics”. Could you elaborate on this?

Kuhn: I tried to make the biography of Grossman as accessible as possible. This included a style that is, hopefully, direct and engaging, and giving prominence to the story of Grossman’s life, the conflicts in which he was involved and the content of his writings. So references to subsequent evaluations of his ideas are relegated to the endnotes. With one exception. Giacomo Marramao observed that in ‘Lukács’s History and Class Consciousness that one finds the philosophical equivalent of Grossmann’s great attempt at a critical-revolutionary re-appropriation of Marxian categories.’ This is very important, although it needs to be extended because both Lukács and Grossman drew on Lenin’s recovery of Marxist politics and the inspiration of the Russian revolution. Both embraced Lenin’s theory of revolution and the revolutionary party.

Grossman explicitly stated that his best known work, The Law of Accumulation and Breakdown of the Capitalist System, was designed to supplement Marxist discussions about political revolution by examining the logic of economic crisis, which is an element in revolutionary situations. In relation to the dominant interpretation of Grossman-that he had a mechanical theory of economic breakdown-it is worth noting that he wrote this not in some obscure unpublished manuscript or letter, but in the book’s introduction.

The argument in Marx’s Capital, Grossman demonstrated, moves from discussion of fundamental, abstract features of capitalism through a series of steps to the everyday appearance of capitalist reality. The structure of Grossman’s book is similar. The final chapter, which is sadly not included in the abridged English translation, operated at a concrete level of analysis, focusing on the implications of the preceding analysis of crises for the class struggle. The purpose of the entire argument was to explore the objective preconditions for successful revolutionary action by the working class.

RN: Can you tell us briefly about Grossman’s understanding of imperialism? To what extent do his theorizations in this regard converge with and diverge from other major theorists of imperialism, especially, Lenin and Luxemburg?

Kuhn: This is one of my current areas of research. Like Luxemburg, Grossman argued that modern imperialism was a consequence of the advanced stage of capital accumulation and consequently the intensification of capitalism’s tendency to break down. But he rejected Luxemburg’s assertion that capital’s survival depends on finding non-capitalist markets in which to realize surplus value. For Grossman, the problem lies not in inadequate sales of commodities, but the system’s inability to create enough surplus value. Unequal exchange and monopoly control of key resources, imperialism, are responses to this problem of securing additional surplus value for metropolitan capitals. Meanwhile, the speculative export of capital and domestic economic speculation are consequences of the inability of capital to find profitable outlets for productive investment.

Grossman regarded Lenin’s Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism as containing descriptive insights, but as deficient when it came to providing an explanation of the logic of imperialism. He also refuted Hilferding’s emphasis, which Lenin took over, on the dominance of ‘finance capital’ as an ongoing feature of contemporary capitalism.

RN: You mention in the book that Sweezy in his survey of Marxist economic theory criticized Grossman’s crisis theory and Grossman in turn termed his criticism as “distortions”. Can you briefly tell us about these claims and counter-claims?

Kuhn: Paul Sweezy’s The Theory of Capitalist Development, published in the early 1940s, has had a massive influence on radical economics in the United States. Its systematic and accessible introduction to Marxist economics was a major achievement. The book also introduced Grossman’s work, most of which was not available in English, to a large audience and included some favorable comments about some of his secondary arguments. But it simply ignored Grossman’s explanation of why crises will occur as the rate of profit declines, but well before it reaches zero. To justify his verdict that Grossman had a ‘mechanistic’ approach, Sweezy caricatured the role played by Otto Bauer’s reproduction schemes in Grossman’s analysis. In Research in Political Economy (preprint), I synthesized Grossman’s various published and unpublished replies to his critics, most written before 1942, which nevertheless deal with Sweezy’s unoriginal objections.

Interestingly, Sweezy takes the structure of his own explanation of crises, the balance between tendency and countertendencies, from Marx’s and Grossman’s discussions of the tendency for the rate of profit to fall. Both Luxemburg’s and Sweezy’s approaches were underconsumptionist. Luxemburg insisted that capitalism tends to break down. Sweezy, like Keynes, argued that ‘the deliberate action of the state’-expanded government spending-could theoretically prevent ‘chronic depression’.

RN: How relevant is Grossman’s approach today?

Kuhn: Grossman provides a framework for understanding fundamental contemporary developments. It highlights the ongoing crisis-prone nature of capitalism and developments that help restore profit rates. Neo-liberal policies-attacks on wages and conditions, dismantling of the welfare state, knocking down barriers to trade with less developed parts of the world-are not the result of the fevered imaginings of delusional politicians, but efforts to restore profits rates. The same is true of the United States’ current imperialist adventures in Iraq and Afghanistan. Grossman’s discussion of speculative activity as a response to capitalism’s crisis tendencies provides insights into the phenomenal growth in global financial flows over recent decades.

RN: As you note, “Changes in the level of population, through the availability of labor power, influence capitalism’s breakdown tendency. Capital accumulation increases the need for workers to valorize capital. Eventually the impossibility of this valorization, because population growth is too slow, gives rise to crisis and unemployment: ‘Unemployment was a consequence of insufficient population!’ The need for labor power pushes capitalists to attempt to extend the length of the working day, to seek supplementary sources of surplus value and labor on the world market. The mercantilist preoccupation with population … and early colonial policy were not about finding markets. They were concerned with capitalist production and hence the need for labor. As much of the labor used in colonial capitalist production was extracted from slaves, Grossman developed, for the first time, Marx’s comments on the importance of the slave trade for the emergence of capitalism in an account of the trade’s origins and significance from the fifteenth century.” (133)

Can you tell us more about Grossman’s analyses in this regard?

Kuhn: Grossman had a long term interest in slavery as an institution under different modes of production. In a manuscript, probably written in the early 1920s, he dealt with slavery among Christian peoples to the ninth century. During the 1930s, he noted that the development of machinery in the ancient world was in response to problems that could not be solved by the application of human labor because slavery could be regarded as a natural perpetuum mobile, a machine that continues to operate without the expenditure of additional energy. In a letter to Horkheimer he offered a critique of the depiction of slavery in Margaret Mitchell’s bestselling novel, Gone with the WindThe Law of Accumulation examines the role of slavery during the early period of Spanish and Portuguese colonialism, and also identifies forms of tribute labor imposed on native populations of Central and South America. The account of slavery also deals with French and English colonial expansion and the institution’s economic significance in the Americas into the 19th century. He was making an historical case against Luxemburg’s explanation of imperialism, in terms of the realization of surplus value. So, rather than offering a history of colonial economies, Grossman explicitly confined himself to demonstrating that the underlying logic of capitalist territorial expansion was the creation of surplus value.

RN: Grossman’s The Law of Accumulation and other major works were conceived during his association with the Institute for Social Research which gave rise to the Frankfurt School. However, it seems that after Carl Grünberg’s death, Grossman distanced himself from the mainstream activities and engagements of the Institute. One can understand the political and organizational reasons for his disillusionment, but were there theoretical and methodological reasons too?

Kuhn: In Frankfurt am Main and exile, through to the end of the 1930s, Grossman was dedicated to the Institute and valued collaboration with his colleagues. In New York, however, the core of the Institute around Max Horkheimer moved away from Marxism, particularly its stress on the role of the working class in liberating humanity. In theoretical terms, this culminated in Horkheimer and Theodor Adorno’s The Dialectic of Enlightenment of 1944, which rejected the concept of scientific explanation. Grossman remained a Marxist. He stood by and developed his own earlier analyses. But the desperation of the midnight in the century affected him and led to a massive contradiction in his thinking. After being very hostile to Stalinism for a couple of years, he became an uncritical supporter of the Soviet Union around 1936. So distinct differences at the levels of high theory and more concrete political analysis emerged between Grossman and the Horkheimer clique. In addition, because of a financial crisis, Horkheimer and Friedrich Pollock tried to drive as many members of the Institute as possible off the payroll during the early 1940s. This led to personal stresses and hostilities.

RN: In Chapter 5, the section that discusses the reception of The Law of Accumulation is titled, “An Economic Theory without a Political Home”. Can you please give our readers a glimpse of this ‘homelessness’ of Grossman’s theory?

Kuhn: The roots of the widespread misinterpretation of Grossman’s arguments lie in the initial reception ofThe Law of Accumulation. Bourgeois economists, social democrats and orthodox Communists were all hostile. Conservatives and social democrats obviously disliked the argument that capitalism is inherently crisis-prone and that the solution is workers’ revolution.

The defeat of the Russian revolution and the victory of state capitalism-personified in Stalin-led to the establishment of dogmas in all areas of Soviet intellectual life, including genetics. The explanation of economic crises which Grossman advocated did not comply with the views of Stalin’s man in economics. Jenö Varga explained crises in particularly crude underconsumptionist terms. Grossman therefore had to be wrong.

By the 1930s, social democracy and Stalinism dominated working class organizations around the world. Representatives of both currents accused Grossman of believing that capitalism would mechanically break down and that organized working class action was therefore superfluous. So no significant section of the labour movement took up his analysis.

RN: Despite a rediscovery of Grossman’s works in the late 1960s, till now his major book has been translated in English only in an abridged form, and your standard biography has only just appeared. Does this not show that this ‘homelessness’ continues? What could possibly be the reason behind this?

Kuhn: Yes, to some extent. But today the nature of the homelessness is different and less absolute. From the 1920s to the 1960s, the influence of Stalinism and social democracy meant that the space for classical Marxist politics and theory in the labor movement was very restricted. That has changed. The 1960s and 1970s saw the emergence of a new or revitalized revolutionary left. Then the downturn in the levels of class struggle around the world during the late 1970s through to the 1990s, coupled with many defeats weakened the organized labor movement. The end of state capitalism in Russia demoralized the Stalinist left, old and new, and led to the collapse or final embrace of reformism by many organizations which had illusions in the USSR. In many countries, the neo-liberal trajectory of social democratic parties since the end of the long boom, in the mid 1970s, weakened their leftist pretensions and eroded their memberships.

Of course this is a generalization, there have been ups and downs. The Brazilian Workers Party, for example, emerged out of working class mobilizations before emulating the neo-liberal behavior of its older social democratic siblings. In South Korea, Italy and France there have been some periods of quite sustained class struggles. And there have been important social movements, especially against the USA’s wars.

Overall, then, the left has declined drastically in size. But there is somewhat more space for currents, like that of the unorthodox Trotskyist tradition, to which I belong, which are open to Grossman’s analysis.

RN: Since for several years now you have been working on Henryk Grossman, can you tell our readers about your initial motivation? Also, what went into making the book? What are your hopes for the book regarding its contributions and achievements, politically and within Marxist circles?

Kuhn: Through Anwar Shaikh’s excellent 1978 essay on the history of Marxist crisis theory I became aware of Grossman. The fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989 prompted me to start learning German again. Before that my research was mainly on Australian politics and political economy, an area which I continue to explore. This, however, does not provide much scope for international travel. I wanted to do some work on Germany andAustria. Once I had a certain proficiency in German, around 1993, I began the Grossman research.

Studying Grossman was, in part, a search for my own roots. Not only because my parents were Jewish refugees from Vienna-Grossman’s home for several years-and my mother’s mother was, I discovered as a bi-product of my project, even born in a Galician shtetl (Jewish village) where there was a JSDP branch. Tracing Grossman’s story was also an investigation of my heritage as a socialist: the history of the institutions and struggles of the labor movement.

The research has taken me on many journeys through time, space and different cultures. A couple of examples. To grasp Grossman’s experiences in Galicia it was necessary not only to understand the institutions of the Austro-Hungarian empire and the history of eastern European Jewry but also to trace the activities of the JSDP, which led me to learn to read Yiddish and to add an appreciation of klezmer to my musical tastes. Grossman participated in or was affected by Marxist debates about the best way to organize and the national question, the zig-zags in the line of the Communist International, particularly as they impacted on the Polish and German Communist Parties. I stalked primary material from Kraków and Warsaw to Boston and Berlin, from Vienna and New York to Frankfurt am Main and the village of Tellow in the north-eastern German state of Mecklenburg-Vorpommern. In New York, the Australian novelist Christina Stead and her partner, the banker, writer and economist, William Blake were amongst Grossman’s closest friends. This led me into their biographies and a key source, Stead’s papers in the National Library of Australia back in Canberra, my hometown.

Hopefully my detailed and sympathetic account of Grossman’s life and work will disrupt the cycle of distortion of his ideas that social democrats and Stalinists began in 1929. Grossman vindicated the Marxist synthesis of theory with practice, analysis of objective realities and constraints with strategy and tactics designed to realize the working class’s capacity to be an historical, revolutionary subject. He provided useful tools for people who not only want to understand but also want to change the world. But I have no illusions about the impact of my publications on the level of the class struggle, the fundamental driver of socialist politics. There is no substitute for practical activity: building campaigns against the immediate consequences of capitalist exploitation and oppression, and constructing an organization capable of merging them in the struggle for socialism.

On “The Darker Nations” – An Interview with Vijay Prashad

The importance of Vijay Prashad’s book, The Darker Nations: A People’s History of the Third World, lies in its ability to trace the trajectory of the “Third World Project” – its genesis, growth and crisis – amidst the cacophonous range of local political economic structures and their varied articulation with global capitalism and the metropolitan world. The book shows us that beyond the simplistic orientalist image of the Global South as just being on the receiving end and reactive, there has existed definite protagonism with all its contradictions grounded in the peoples’ struggle against domination, oppression and exploitation. The following discussion with the author of The Darker Nations is an attempt to retrieve some of the salient insights in this formidable work.

Radical Notes (RN): First of all, hearty congratulations to you from Radical Notes for having authored a masterly work on the history of peoples (and their interactions) less traveled to, and much less talked about. But how necessary do you think is it to write a history of peoples still alive? Considering that the developing world is still at a developing phase, will writing a history amount to writing off of some reverberating presence of the old elements?

Vijay Prashad: Thanks for asking me to do this. I appreciate it.

The book is a history of the Third World project. It is this project’s development that I trace from the 1920s to the 1980s. ADarker Nations wide range of initiatives came together in a relatively coherent platform of demands that was pushed at various United Nations and international forums. That project was assassinated in the 1980s by a combination of the exhaustion of the way the various regimes operated in their societies, by the debt crisis (itself a product of a newly confident financial capitalism), the collapse of the Soviet Union, etc. The people who live in the societies that once adopted the Third World project of course live on, and certainly they are making history. But not on the same platform as they once were.

RN: You have pointed out the dangerous redundancy of “East-West” paradigm. By that stretch, how valid do you feel were the “First-Second-Third” worldist categorizations?

Prashad: Like all such categorizations, the division has its merits and demerits. It usefully captures at least one surface level division: between the states of the advanced industrial world who had once been major colonial powers and, after World War II, had retooled the methods to maintain primacy (the First World – and its military arm, NATO); the states of the formally non-capitalist bloc, mostly the vast Russian confederation and Eastern Europe, who had adopted Communism and attempted to create a path out of the strong undertow of capitalism (the Second World); and the states which had been either recently colonized or which had a longer history of non-colonial imperial domination (Latin America and China), that had a variety of political lines but yet were united in the breech through the Third World project. I develop the three lines at Bandung, for instance, where one can see the divisions. But these are to be expected. What is so interesting is the congruence of views, between, say, Manila and Accra.

RN: You say, the Third World was a project, more than being a place, and so you offer a historical appraisal of the making of this project. Can you please tell our readers, why would the project gain prominence over the places? If a project is meant to have common goals, how common were the goals sketched for the Third World? Would it be less apt to suggest that the Third World was (or/and is) perhaps comprising those wretched places of earth ravaged by colonialism to have a grounded commonality in their origin, than to have evolved as an organized project through their enlightened leaderships?

Prashad: In the 1980s, the “third world” was seen as failed states and famine, poverty and hopelessness. The places seemed to have come “third” if not last in the great race for progress. That was the broad tenor of the discourse on the post-colonial period. I found this tendentious. It meant that these places were fated to failure, and therefore to charity. The condescension erased the history of struggle and defeat. I am interested, partly, in looking at the richer history of the epoch, to uncover the struggles and their ideologies.

The anti-colonial struggles that produced the new nations schooled the vast mass of the population about the roots and resources of imperialism. The Third World project, therefore, comes not so much from the intellectuals alone, for if it did it would not have had so much popular support. It came from the wisdom of these movements, which was articulated by the intellectuals and what you call the “enlightened leaderships.”

The Third World, in my analysis, is not so much a commonality of condition as it is a unity of purpose by the regimes that, at least in the two decades after the 1950s, came with significant popular legitimacy. And, for a time, it posed a challenge to the post-World War II dispensation, particularly with its agenda for disarmament, for a more just economic order (use of subsidies and tariffs, and commodity cartels), and for a world without racism. This was something.

RN: We understand by analyzing the schemes and plans of the third world leadership and their internal relations you have over-grounded a much-neglected aspect of the history of international relations – the intra-third world relationship. How much do you think this is representative of the threads that the majority of peoples found among each other even before the nationalist leaders awakened themselves to an “internationalist nationalism”? If we count the peoples more than the leaders while describing the project, don’t you think that even though the project is dead, the conditions for the project still exist?

Prashad: The conditions for some kind of project certainly do exist in our times. I believe that the contours of the Third World project need to be totally rethought. For instance, the Third World project did not fully grapple with the problem posed by an energetic and “free” finance capital, whose own relations to the state changed in the 1960s and 1970s. Castro, at the 1983 NAM meeting, raised this problem, but it was generally discounted. He proposed, for instance, that there be a Third World debt servicing payments strike. This would have been a very powerful way to at least reveal the power of finance capital, and its stranglehold on sustainable development. It was not to be, as I recount. So, the conditions of exploitation continue, but these are also sharpened and transformed. We need to account for the new conditions, for the new struggles against them, and for the possibility of an inter-national, global platform capable of dealing with an aggressive U. S. military, with the Chinese and Indian economies humming, and with the creation of the “planet of slums,” etc. This was my interest in editing (with Teo Ballve) a book on Latin America, Dispatches from Latin America: On the Frontlines Against Neoliberalism (which was published in the US by South End Press and in India by Leftword). I am now trying to assemble such a book on Africa and on African struggles: one wonders what will happen to the African left forces if the South African Communist Party widens the gap with the African National Congress (there is a wonderful debate ongoing in the pages of the SACP’s Bua Komanisi and in Umsebenzi… worth following).

RN: When we look for a “peoples’ history”, we are primarily seeking the history of the oppressed – within the ambit of the history of that region. In fact, the peoples’ history is posited against the rulers’ history, especially when the ruling class interests vary from the peoples’. How much do you think the documents or conferences that you have analyzed in the book provide insight into and how much they obscure this history?

Prashad: A people’s history is not just the history of the oppressed, but it is history told from the standpoint of the “people.” The early people’s histories, including those of Geijer on the Swedes and Palacky on the Czech, as well as Morton on the English, were mainly attempts to bring other social classes into histories reserved for the elites (when Pushkin proposed to write a history of a peasant leader, the Tsar noted pointedly, “such a man has no history”). I am not of the view that there are special classes in the world who should be the subject of history, and that their views are somehow more authentic than that of others (such as the working class or the peasantry – there are also reactionary forces within these social classes). The subject of my narrative is the Third World project, and it therefore demands an engagement with the lives and labors of all social classes, in contradiction, in interaction. What makes it a people’s history is that it is written with an ear to the struggles for a type of egalitarian and libertarian justice, which means that the grievances and imaginations of the oppressed are central to the narrative.

RN: Talking of women, the Third World is special. Not just as the most oppressed half of the population, women have also been the most celebrated political figures. In the ‘Cairo’ chapter you dealt with some of the prominent women political figures in the Third World. What do you think about the roles and positions of women within various alternative political movements in the Third World – as comrades and as oppressed?

Prashad: From my point of view, the basic thesis of the national liberation women’s rights platform is this: that their societies are torn by sexist traditions; that their states are plagued by misogynist laws; but that their social and political histories demonstrate that women within these societies can challenge national liberation and the Third World project to extend itself in a positive direction. They rejected “humanitarian interventionism” at the same time as they called for an internationalist critique of sexist injustice. The women in these movements had no illusions that their were problems within their political parties and formations, that they needed to fight on many fronts – against allies and enemies. That is the basic point of “Cairo.” The UN dynamic that led to Beijing (1995) draws from this lineage.

RN: Talking about the character of struggles in the Third World, the history is replete with struggles against dual oppressions: one against direct/indirect colonialism itself, and two, against the remnants and local agencies entrenched within the worldwide intensification of capitalist accumulation. Why should the Third World get credit for only the former struggle in which its leaders were glorified, and not the latter – in which its peoples were shunned? What do you think about post-colonial militant movements aimed at destabilizing those very powers that defined the Third World institutionally, but have not quite succeeded to reclaim power yet? How much have they contributed in the making, or rather, unmaking of the Third World project?

Prashad: Certainly these are important struggles. I emphasize them at various points in the narrative, for instance in the sections on Indonesia and Iraq. The social movements that are alive today were incubated in this period, but they don’t begin to flower until the 1980s. The water wars and what not are a product of the collapse of the Third World project, as I hope to show in the next volume of this study: The Poorer Nations: A People’s history of the Global South (should be done in about five or six years).

RN: You evoke hopes for a successor to the Third World. What can possibly prevent any attempts to assassinate this? If measured by the institutionalization of the Third World, the project was perhaps doomed from the beginning, since the political elites could not have done without the help of the bourgeois class – who in turn would have worked hard to undermine the further struggles. However, if measured by peoples’ agitations against colonial powers, domestic capitalists and the current neo-liberalism, then the hope may well be still alive. In your opinion then, at this juncture of world history, what should be the weapons of strength for the people world over to combat neo-liberalism? With the apparent aspirations in the form of the United Nations (UN) or the Non-Aligned Movement (NAM) getting redundant, and any dependency on institutional projects producing no radical shift, what paths are open for the oppressed of the world?

Prashad: There are no guarantees. But, on the other hand, one of the lessons from this history is to ensure that the leadership not insulate itself from the people, that the people be the arbiters of the direction of social change, and that their delegates widen the responsibility as much as possible. That’s a fairly simple lesson, but also one that is easier to articulate than to put into practice; particularly when the regime is under attack from imperialism and from the old social classes. The constraints often paralyze the ability to broaden the democratic nature of the movement.

I don’t want to second-guess the form that the new internationalism will take. Chavez has begun to push for the creation of institutions of the South, and to revive NAM. He has become a pole for this refoundation (at the African Union meeting in June 2006 he was greeted as a savior, which might be more than we need right now!). There is also the World Social Forum, which is useful, but as yet unable to drive a wedge into the world system – it neither has the power of the nation-state nor of the international organizations at the inter-state level. This is a serious structural limitation for the articulation of a plausible short-term program. Farooq Tariq, the head of Pakistan’s Labour Party, has recently likened the WSF to “a peacock dancing in the jungle,” by which he means that the WSF is beautiful but its beauty is being showcased away from the masses of people, insulated from their eyes. All this needs to be remedied.

The grievances and hopes are many, and I hope that The Darker Nations will be part of a conversation that seeks to find a new project that might solve the problems of our world that the G-7 can only exacerbate and not even ameliorate.

A Review of “The Darker Nations”

Saswat Pattanayak 

Vijay Prashad, The Darker Nations: A People’s History of the Third World, The New Press, New York, 2007. Hardcover, 384 pp. Amazon/NP 

The Darker Nations is a critical historiography of the Third World. Vijay Prashad’s deeply instructive as well as occasionally mordant looks at events and processes that made up the history of oppressed peoples in the 20th century comprise this brilliant work. It is a book profound for being peremptory, and absolutely necessary for being so relevant today that it is imperative for activists and researchers alike.

For one, the various assumptions that form a dominant paradigm of Eurocentrism need radical reproving. Yet that would merely amount to a criticism of the thesis itself. Prashad goes beyond that and proposes an alternative narration to the history – not just of the Third World, but also through its lenses, the peoples’ history of the world during the last century. Darker Nations in some ways could be appositely used to speak for aspirations of the oppressed everywhere. In this sense, the book is a celebration of collective hope, even as it traces the demise of a grand project based on it.

I

The thesis of the book circles around the Third World as a unique project on its own. Even as there have been far too many usages of “First” and “Second” Worlds in contrasts, the reader is never lostdarker nationsto the main point: that is, the Third World was not merely in response or reaction to the prevailing ‘cold war’ grand narration, but it was more importantly an independent culmination out of unique historical necessities to combat neocolonialism and to promote internationalist nationalism.

To that extent, the author has conducted painful researches and unearthed valuable and often less quoted documents. The book thus does justice to the Suez Canal nationalization controversy and credits Nasser for his motives beyond cold war considerations. It brings Nehru alive through his letter drafted for the Non-Aligned Movement (NAM) that argued against nuclearism, appealing to both Kennedy and Khrushchev. The book researches Che Guevara’s UN speech that assumed a necessary political standpoint for all oppressed countries: “As Marxists, we maintain that peaceful co-existence does not include co-existence between exploiters and exploited, between oppressors and oppressed.”

What, then, was common to the Third World? For the nationalist leaders, the fact that they were all colonized. Prashad writes, “For them, the nation had to be constructed out of two elements: the history of their struggles against colonialism, and their program for the creation of justice….The Third World form of nationalism is thus better understood as an internationalist nationalism.” (p.12)

Prashad’s assessment of “neopatriarchy” and domestic capitalism in the third world is quite worthwhile. This book is clearly a critical document for collective introspection of the oppressed peoples than an empty glorification of a united umbrella. In this sense, it is a necessary and long awaited work, which while marking the sites of struggle does not lose sight of the continuing struggles.

The author has cleverly named the chapters after the various sites of significance. Clever, because the chapters (Paris, New Delhi, Bali etc.,) have less to do with specific descriptions of the cities of those times than they have to do with bringing these otherwise disparate places together in context – at times stretching the contexts well out of bounds of the chapter title; at times celebrating the specificity with a poem by Neruda. One would be tempted to verify the header of the page several times while going through the texts just to make sure that she is in the right page. Yet such deliberate discursions are wisely scheduled to make for chapters that elucidate points contextually, rendering Prashad into a master narrator.

Illustratively, the author makes clear the intent of the book at the end of “Paris” chapter and perhaps leading one to wonder how much of the chapter was actually devoted to Paris. Of course that’s the idea of a project, the professor would convince us: each section needs to have scope for a flow into the next without exhausting every specific reference. It’s a project after all. A process, not a few events.

The book covers all that it promises to: Brussels meeting of “League against Imperialism”, Afro-Asian gathering at Bandung, Women’s conference at Cairo, NAM at Belgrade and Tricontinental Conference at Havana.

Prashad unearths the role of international communists in formation of the Brussels conference – a landmark event patronized by Einstein and attended by 37 countries/colonies. He writes about Pan-Africanism, Pan-Americanism, and Pan-Asianism in the context of colonial dominations, along with deconstructing the Kuomintang massacres of communists that might have contributed to severance of the ties between the Comintern and several nationalist leaders.

Prashad quotes W.E.B. DuBois in relation to Pan-Africanism within the Brussels context, although he omits Paul Robeson’s solidarity with the colored peoples at Bandung. It was in 1955 that Robeson sent his famous greetings to Bandung: “…peoples come from the shores of the Ganges and the Nile, the Yangtse and the Niger. Nations of the vast Pacific waters, greetings on this historic occasion. It is my profound conviction that the very fact of the convening of the Conference of Asian and African nations at Bandung, Indonesia, in itself will be recorded as an historic turning point in all world affairs.” Heralding it as a history-making conference, Robeson expressed, “Indeed the fact that the Asian and African nations, possessing similar yet different cultures, have come together to solve their common problems must stand as a shining example to the rest of the world.”

Prashad aptly summarizes what Bandung achieved: “a format for what would eventually become Afro-Asian and then Afro-Asian-Latin American group in the UN.” He also takes a stab at the inherent weaknesses of the member countries that lost moral grounds because of several reasons, from murdering communists to hoarding weapons, despite agreeing on some basic precepts of “cultural cooperation”.

“Principle Problem” of Raul Prebisch is explained in context to economic policies, in the crucial introduction to the role of UNCTAD, of which he was the founding general secretary. If Buenos Aires is visited for economics, Tehran is the metaphoric site of cultural struggles. Khrushchev’s betrayal of cultural workers in face of opposition to Shah regime is well articulated in a chapter that describes “roots of the Third World intellectual’s quandary was how to create a new self in the new nations”, thus reinforcing nationalism, democracy and rationalism.

Prashad’s political argument that the relationship between Third World and Second turned tumultuous after the demise of Stalin may draw some criticisms, but he amply demonstrates its foundations. He argues that the “new leadership led by Khrushchev and Bulganin adopted peaceful co-existence and pledged their support to the bourgeois nationalist regimes (often against the domestic Communists). The unclear situation suggested that the USSR seemed keener to push its own national interests than those of the national Communist parties to which it pledged verbal fealty” (p. 97).

Prashad makes a point that is vital to understanding of the Third World formation and crisis. In the Soviet Union, the Second World indeed “had an attitude toward the former colonies that in some ways mimicked that of the First World.” But this did not necessarily require pitiful stance at the Third World recipients. Prashad argues quoting Sauvy and Nkrumah that the Third World was not “prone, silent or unable to speak” before the powers. It was an independent political platform on its own, which according to Nehru stood for “political independence, nonviolent international relations, and the cultivation of the UN as the principle institution for planetary justice.”

So he asks, “What about the two-thirds who remained outside the East-West circles; what of those 2 billion people?” The narration of the author is instructive in a poetic sense. As obviously gigantic is the scope of such an inquisitiveness, he offers a plethora of factors/voices that could have been representing this Third World.

The book analyzes the various complexities of state politics in the Third World countries. It correctly mentions the several betrayals of communist workers in the hands of Moscow and Peking leaderships in the aftermath of Stalin and Mao. The book describes accurately the growing militarization of the developing nations. Prashad, while upholding the vision of the Third World, well encapsulates the elements of utopianism inherently present in some of the documents.

As an instance, the Arusha Declaration validated the twin principles of liberty and equality, individual rights and collective well-being. Prashad argues, “The main problem with the Arusha-TANU project, however, came not in its goals but in its implementation.” Though defying academic limitations, he does not give away credence to neoliberal economists/politicians like Rajaratnam of Singapore. Even as he describes the feud between Singapore on one extreme and Cuba on another, Prashad instructs us wisely about the pitfalls of economic liberalization. “The abandonment of economic sovereignty lost the national liberation regimes one of their two principal pillars of legitimacy. When IMF-led globalization became the modus operandi, the elites of the postcolonial world adopted a hidebound and ruthless xenophobia that masqueraded as patriotism”, Prashad writes.

Succinctly enough, Prashad encapsulates the present scenario: “The mecca of IMF-driven globalization is therefore in the ability to open one’s economy to stateless, soulless corporations while blaming the failure of well-being on religious, ethnic, sexual, and other minorities. That is the mecca of the post-Third World era.”

II

Prashad’s ending of the book with an obituary to Third World would have perhaps perplexed the writer he invokes in the beginning of his work: Franz Fanon. He even quotes the prophetic statements from The Wretched of the Earth: “The Third World today faces Europe like a colossal mass whose project should be to try to resolve the problems to which Europe has not been able to find the answers.”

Prashad’s persistent declaration in the book about demise of the Third World may bring back nostalgic chords, but would not undermine Fanon’s question. Have the problems that bore out of colonialism been resolved? The answer is no. Has Europe or the USA been able to find the answers yet? The answer is no.

In that case, is it not too early to declare the Third World a dead project? Moreover, is the author at times tending to air the lost leaders’ voices over the struggling peoples’?

No doubt, Prashad’s book is unique in its stress on women’s movements in the Third World – an aspect that’s comfortably overlooked when such taxonomies are applied to political texts. In his Cairo chapter, Prashad examines the role of women in Third World liberation struggles – from Rameshwari Nehru to Aisha Abdul-Rahman. This is significantly noteworthy, as women have joined the guerrilla wars as well as street protests in almost all of the Third World countries. And yet many progressive forces have difficulties in understanding gender relations, thereby resulting in mere “state feminisms”. However, was this chapter written because Cairo had women members on its podium necessitating a mention/discussion, or because a tribute to women activists is necessary to understand the Third World project? In either way, the book does not employ a lens of the women to understand the movement, although does a commendable job at understanding women struggles through the lens of the Third World. Considering that only this chapter has a portion devoted to a few women activists in context to Cairo, while the rest of the book mostly quotes the three “titans” or famous “fives” in explaining the history, I would say there are quite a few questions unanswered still.

The chief criticism against this work would primarily come from two quarters: One, from a strictly Third Wave (interesting how the growth of Third Wave coincides with the recognition of the Third World) feminist critique: independent struggles by women could have been much better encompassed within this book, given its scope. Prashad does a cursory mention of the alternative movement (considering that third-world women had a movement within, and against the larger movement) limiting it to a chapter and focusing on a couple of eminent speakers. Would the Third World have been different had the precepts for it not written by the “titans” and “giants”, but by women comrades who were voices of resentments against the hierarchies of nationalist and communist parties? Prashad does not dwell on this aspect.

Two, the criticism may become more scathing from the perspectives of militant activists. Third World, like Rome, was not built in a day. And certainly not through some leaders of few countries. Prashad is arguably right in crediting the giants and bringing forth the canons, but at the same time, these very leaders certainly rode the wave of success utilizing the larger unrest that was recognized by the anti-status-quo forces, often united through guerrilla wars, and almost going unnoticed after making vital impacts. Would the Third World have been different had the precepts for it not written by the giants, but by the larger oppressed peoples engaged in organized and otherwise struggles? We do not know for sure, but it would have been worthwhile to ponder over that a bit more than the book does.

The more crucial question then, is if such precepts were actually already written (or worked on with) by the peoples who did not find mentions in the historical documents that Prashad cites towards the book’s end spanning 60 pages. The focus of the book, although is in continuance of Prashadisque tradition of Afro-Asian unity, is slightly away from Africa. In fact, Mandela is mentioned just once in the book (that too as a pure travesty – citing a Ruth First memorial). The truth is Third World texts had been written in South Africa as well as in Nepal. However, such underground struggles went largely amiss from the work. Sure, the book by the author’s admission is inexhaustive and merely illustrative, but even a 300-page work could have inculcated some unknown peoples’ movements than chronicling lesser known leaders’ engagements.

Ironically enough, before proceeding to Havana chapter, Prashad mentions “From the early 1960s to the late 1970s, the rhetorical denunciation of imperialism reached its apogee even as the Third World began to lose its voice”. This is a dangerous statement to make if one considers that indeed from the 1970s onwards, the peoples voice in the Third World had immensely proliferated. No doubt the leaders – those giants who we find exalted throughout the work – had fallen to deaths or arrests, but the period thereafter also signaled the end of dominant and diplomatic voices, and somewhere alongside highlighted the obscure and powerful ones.

People who spoke truth to power were the people on the streets that challenged the nationalist parties which came to power in the pretext of newfound freedom from the foreign rulers. The growth of domestic capitalist classes in comfortable alliance with these nationalist parties were indication enough that the new powers were no less different from the old ones, except in their make-up and “patriotism”. In fact, these illusive weapons of nationalism and patriotism helped strengthen exploitative capitalism on basis of trusts of the “own” people. Such betrayals of faiths, notwithstanding goodwill of the famous leaders, were also being fought against on a daily basis in the Third World. Beyond the conferences and meetings and gatherings of Third World leaders under different names, there were large-scale protests of poverty and unemployment. Beyond the famous rhetoric of anti-nuclearism (while proliferating conventional weapons domestically) and socialist development (while harassing voices of dissent at home), people had on their own formed two classes in the society. The haves went to the ruling elites that apparently “voiced” the Third World for few years, and the have-nots remained with the unknown millions of peoples whose only commonality was their resentment against the power-grabbers. Be it Nehru or Indira in India, Sukarno or Suharto in Indonesia, the popular imagination went beyond such leaders that treaded the careful path all the while claiming to be representing the Third World.

Third World was neither the name of a place nor merely a documented project. And certainly it did not die. Considering that its origin was a necessity in itself, a necessity borne of conditions of colonialism, about which Sartre (another contextually grand omission from the book except for one mention – his writings on neocolonialism were far more instructive) writes in the preface to Albert Memmi’s ‘The Colonizer and the Colonized’: “Colonialism denies human rights to people it has subjugated by violence, and whom it keeps in poverty and ignorance by force, therefore, as Marx would say, in a state of ‘sub-humanity’.” This sub-humanity does not see its history changing with the midnight bells of colonialist departures. It takes quite a while for the real freedom to be conquested for even after the colonialists are gone. This is why South Africa’s period of struggle just began after Mandela came to power. South Africa’s Third World status will not die anytime soon.

So the assumption that “the Third World began to lose its voice” may have been made a little too early. Keeping in line of the eloquent narration of events as Prashad has done (for example, referring to revived “armed struggle not only as a tactic of anticolonialism but significantly as a strategy in itself”), the book perhaps wished away the Third World before examining its overbearing presence today. Do we have a Second World? I have no answer to that. But if the name Third World was admittedly accepted by the oppressed people of several continents basing on their historical heritage, then the phrase is as relevant today as it was before. Perhaps some countries would want not a place in it. Earlier, China was a question. Today, Singapore is. All the same, for the rest of the countries, nothing much has changed, except that the capitalist exploitation has intensified and expanded manifold, the national regimes have lost faith and people are more politically conscious.

If the Third World was imagined out of former colonies and if the colonial problem was chiefly an economic one, then the Third World has become even all the more relevant today. Simplistic as it may sound, there is a greater need for Afro-Asian-Latin solidarity today in the world than ever before. And Prashad, a remarkably profound scholar who gave to us treasures of arguments through his previous works about the need for alliances of the oppressed, would be among the firsts to acknowledge the necessity of such unity.

III

However, apart from remaining in want of more comprehensive analysis of women’s movements and of peoples’ liberation movements (both-dually oppressed by former colonizers as well as the nationalist rulers,and more importantly conflicted between the both – male and female comrades), the book also offers cursory looks at the external roles played by the First World in maintaining indirect subjugation of the Third.

Prashad rightly critiques the predominant views held by leftists about the role of the US Central Intelligence Agency (CIA). He argues that such a minimalist assumption renders people of the Third World insignificant and often passive audience in the larger world stage. Whereas he is absolutely correct in this critique – largely identified by the radical feminist movements worldwide – there is no harm in going through the roles of the CIA that have been well documented in a work that does chronicle interactions of the Third World “leaders” with the First World instigators. Many conflicting situations have been initiated and fuelled through CIA interventions in the Third World politics and that should have found a deserved mention. For instance, a critique of the Nixon administration vis-à-vis the Third World (including the recently released notes with Kissinger) is found lacking.

One need not subscribe to conspiracy theories to gain insights about how the First World allies in the “neocolonial” period have acted towards the Third World: less through coercion, and more through lucrative measures such as economic aids, western education and religion. Prashad misses out on the role of the Catholic Church that was the first body to significantly recognize the Third World as an entity worth pondering over. The large money, the pool of debts that would crumble the economic backbone of the Third World came from the consent of the Vatican during the early 1960s.

Prashad mentions religion quite casually, when he describes how “Mother Teresa would soon get more positive airtime as the white savior of the dark hordes than would the self-directed projects of the Third World nationalist governments.” Immediately following this, he goes on to make references to military invasions and embargoes.

Here the book could have made a crucial connection between the recognition of the Third World by the First World through the Catholic Church decisions. Mother Teresa’s airtimes were neither incidental nor were to be seen only through a liberal critique. The missing piece is that Vatican Council II which was the 21st ecumenical(general) council of the Roman Catholic Church was crucial to recognition of the Third World in an official manner.

In fact this council brought the most far-reaching reforms within the Catholic Church in 1000 years. This most significant reform movement in the world’s leading religion was brought forth during its four sessions in Rome during 1962-1965 (the first Council after its suspension in 1870). The idea was to aim for aggiornamento(renewal and updating of Catholic life and teaching). Such a vital step was taken by the Vatican as a result of emergence of the Third World. This council altered the nature of the church from being a European-centered institution to become a worldwide one so as to acknowledge the Third World countries, where it counted most of its followers. Mother Teresa and her likes were thus byproducts of this acceptance of the third force in the world.

Prashad says that Nehru, Sukarno and Nasser among other leaders did not use Third World to describe their domains, but does not corroborate their reasons, if any. For the framework of this book, the constant usages of “First World”, “Second World” and “Third World” is imperative, but considering that Prashad is eager to lash out against the “camp mentality” or “East-West” conflicts, he does avoid a critical exposition of the limitations that such three “Worlds” may bring for the readers.

One way to understand why the three “worlds” were not sufficient explanations (although necessary at many junctures) is to detail how the three worlds could not be thus compartmentalized either in degree or by their types. More importantly, the countries thus categorized under such headings definitely had uniquely different histories (colonial and otherwise), treated differently by their respective partners in their perceived specific worlds. On the one hand, Singapore had a different colonial experience than India. On the other, China’s Security Council membership put it on a unique platform, and there is no comparing between Soviet Union and Hungary. What is vital to this discussion is also the fact that there was not a yardstick that was used to specify categories either for the First, the Second or the Third. As much as the Third World was a movement against colonialism, such a usage of categories would still render it as a site affected by Eurocentric worldviews.

Prashad says Nehru et al., instead of calling themselves to be part of the Third World, “spoke of themselves” as the NAM, G-77 or the colonized continents. Although accurate, here the author’s own argument that kickstarts the book will be subject to questioning. Prashad says in the first line of the book, “The Third World was not a place. It was a project”. And yet he compares the project with some conferences and places (continents) to bring home the point that the leaders evaded “Third World”. Certainly there were other reasons why all Third World titans did not prefer the phrase (if at all). And that, we are still unsure of.

The author writes: “The phrase ‘East-West conflict’ distorts the history of the Cold War because it makes it seem as if the First and Second Worlds confronted each other in a condition of equality.” He contends that the USSR was socially and economically way behind due to its unique recent history. “The dominant classes in the First World used the shortages and repression in the USSR as an instructive tool to wield over the heads of their own working class, and so on both economic and political grounds the First World bore advantages over the Second.” Whereas this could be one truth, it does underscore the fact that more countries on the earth joined the Second World than they could be declared as the First World also because of the lacunae starkly evident in the First World. Whereas massive racism was predominant in the First World, economic depression and political censorships in the capitalist countries also contributed to popularity of the Second World.

A connection between the third world “project” and the United Nations (UN) is well established in the book. What perhaps amiss is a discussion on manners in which either of them might have contributed to the downfall of the other. Prashad says, “Today there is no such vehicle for local dreams”. The larger question then would be if the United Nations played a role in obliterating its dependant. On the other hand, a stark reality in the post-Iraq scene is the redundancy of a forum such as the United Nations today that effectively has no role either in shaping a collective conscience or implementing a pro-people agenda. Least of all, the UN has failed to safeguard the sovereign nations from external aggressions. It has failed to overcome the elitism of its Security Council, almost unquestionably letting the powerful countries to run their own little League of Nations inside the UN. Amidst such cynicism that the UN has contributed to, what responsibilities must the Third World project shoulder.

Amidst several responsibilities, the Third World still has to its credit a Non-Aligned News Agencies Pool (NANAP), a fact that is missing a mention in the book. Over 40 news agencies in non-aligned countries of Africa, Asia, Latin America and Europe have pooled their resources for the exchange of news reports and information to defy the vertical information flow of corporate media. The “Pool” was adopted at the Fourth Summit Conference of Non-Aligned Countries, held in Algiers in 1973. During that period, the New World Information and Communication Order was also proposed to democratize the knowledge domain of the world. No doubt, UNESCO was criticized by the American and European intellectuals, but the MacBride Commission succeeded in recognizing the divergent voices of the Third World in order to challenge the media hegemony world over. Responsibilities of the Third World still include an informed opposition to militarization, providing alternative channels to western corporate media, campaigning for need-based distribution of world resources, and most of all, representing the popular voices of dissent, opposition and celebrations. One wonders if the struggles to attain the above has waned any bit, if looked from the peoples’ perspectives. And in this context, the Third World still holds hopes, possibilities and victory. One is perhaps disappointed if the Third World is perceived to be voicing only a limited elite constituency – often opposed to the peoples’ dissents.

IV

Hence, finally, the book questions not the constitution of the Third World itself. If it was brought around through its various leaderships under certain historical period, what expectations should we have of this “project”? Were such leaders to be expected to play the truly internationalist roles, and to what avail? In the preliminary draft thesis on the National and the Colonial Questions, for the Second Congress of the Communist International, Lenin wrote: “Petty-bourgeois nationalism proclaims as internationalism the mere recognition of the equality of nations and nothing more. Quite apart from the fact that this recognition is purely verbal, petty-bourgeois nationalism preserves national self-interest intact, whereas proletarian internationalism demands, first, that the interests of the proletarian struggle in any one country should be subordinated to the interests of that struggle on a world-wide scale, and, second, that a nation which is achieving victory over the bourgeoisie should be able and willing to make the greatest national sacrifices for the overthrow of international capital.” Between the elite internationalism founded on peaceful co-existence and peoples’ internationalism based upon rejection of the international capitalist order, did the Third World got somewhere hijacked or we refuse to acknowledge its existence because we already defined its proponents?

Needless to state, the criticisms above demand for more literature for inclusion into the book, than specifically target the author’s works. Such a case arises only because the book is an extraordinarily brilliant effort that is bound to encourage readers to plunge more into the relevance of the subject. All of that credit goes to the humanely written, accessibly crafted work that shuns academic elitism and genuinely attempts at a peoples’ history of the oppressed world.

Between Insurrection and Reaction: Evo Morales’ Pursuit of ‘Normal Capitalism’

James Petras 

Many progressive overseas academics, politicians, journalists and commentators have glowingly characterized the Evo Morales regime as  ‘radical’, ‘revolutionary’ and part of an ‘anti-imperialist bloc’. Academics as diverse as Noam Chomsky, Ignacio Ramonet, Emir Sader, Heinz Dietrich, Marta Hanecker and Immanuel Wallerstein have described Evo Morales as part of a new leftist wave sweeping Latin America. What is striking about these academic celebrants of President Morales, is the total absence of any empirical analysis of his recent political trajectory and the socio-economic and public policies implemented during his first 15 months in office.

A first approximation toward an understanding of the Morales regime is to briefly recount the role of Morales and his MAS Party in the period preceding his election and the relationship between the dynamic social movements to socio-political change.

This historical perspective serves to provoke the basis for outlining the theoretical-practical conceptionsof Morales-García Linera (Vice-President) which guide their strategy and program of governance. Once having established the ‘general line’ and strategic goals this provides the basis for analyzing the specific policies pursued in important socio-economic sectors and the tactical-political compromises and alliances, which the regime has put in place.

Morales Regime in Historical Perspective

Contrary to the mythology of many progressive intellectuals, Morales did not play any role in the three major uprisings between 2003-2005, which led to the overthrow of two neo-liberal client presidents: Sanchez de Losado and Carlos Mesa. To me more specific, Morales opposed the February 2003 uprising, was in Geneva, Switzerland attending an inter-parliamentary conference during the successful uprising (October 2003), which overthrew Sanchez de Losado and did everything possible to undermine the mass general strike of May-June 2005 that drove Carlos Mesa from power. A serious analysis demonstrates that Morales threw all the weight of the MAS Party and its social movements in support of Carlos Mesa’s successful rise to the Presidency, despite having served as Vice President to Sanchez de Losado. Morales intervened again following Mesa’s demise to back neo-liberal Supreme Court Justice Rodriguez as Interim President in the run-up to the Presidential election of December 2005. Subsequently Morales totally transformed the substance of the social movements’ demand for a constituent assembly (CA) to ‘re-found the republic’. The social movements demanded that the election of the CA take place by and through the mass popular social movements.  This would ensure that the CA reflected the interests of the workers and peasants.  Morales rejected this demand and came to an agreement with the discredited oligarchic parties to organize the CA elections based onterritorial units in which the elite electoral party machines would dominate the elections.  The result was the almost complete marginalization of the social movements from the CA.  After a year of procedural conflict in the CA, Morales agreed to give the oligarchic parties a virtual veto over the new constitution by agreeing to a two-thirds vote to approve all constitutional laws.  Further evidence of the divergence of the Morales regime from the demands of the insurrectionary social movements was his appointments to the key economic posts in the cabinet and their continuation of orthodox fiscal policies: emphasizing balanced budget and tight monetary policies over public investment in social programs and substantive anti-poverty programs, for example the doubling of the minimum wage, substantial salary increase for teachers, health workers and other low-paid public sector workers.

Theoretical Consideration

The decay of ‘Marxist’ social thought is very much evident in the discussions of the political trajectory, structure and policy of the Morales ‘movement’ (MAS and affiliated peasant-Indian movements and trade unions). The logic and theory propounded by ‘left-theorists’ (LT) is deductive, post-modernist, ahistorical and anti-materialist. Instead of examining the empirical class political practices of Morales and the MAS in order to construct a theory, the LT begin by assuming that being ‘Indian’, of popular origins and having led a popular movement, ipso facto the regime was ‘radical’, ‘revolutionary’, and ‘anti-imperialist’. The deductive logic excludes the whole panoply of class accommodations and class ‘re-locations’ which accompanied the decisive shift from direct action mass struggles to electoral parliamentary politics.

Post-modernism focuses exclusively on cultural and symbolical action and ‘political theater’, over and against substantive class struggles, changes in property and class relations. For the post-modernist Morales emphasis on ‘indigenous, identity, his participation in traditional events in native dress, and his verbal assaults and threats to oligarchs and conspirators are expression of a ‘new revolutionary’ way of doing politics. By focusing on ‘identity’ the post-modernists ignore the enormous class differences between malnourished landless and subsistence peasants and upwardly mobile middle class indigenous politicians, leaders and power brokers. The post-modernists ignore the overt economic collaborations between Morales regime and wealthy ‘white’ agro-export elites, the European and US petroleum companies and the Indian millionaires of the Mutun iron mine complex. The post-modernist obsession with the ‘rhetoric’ or ‘text’ of Morales presentations before mass audiences in which he engages in demagogic linguistic acrobatics blinds them to the actual class and national content of his policy. Hence his ‘revolutionary nationalization’ of petrol and gas was little more than a tax increase on the rate paid by the multi-nationals (MNC) to the state. Not a single MNC was expropriated. Even the price of gas of 5 USD per million cubic feet to Argentina was 40% below the world price – and Brazil’s payment, one year after ‘nationalization’ was still the same $4 dollar – in some instances as low as 1.9 USD – as during the Sanchez de Losado-Mesa period. Theater, textual readings and rhetoric are entertaining and occasionally provide some insight into the style but not the material substance – the political economy of a regime.

The theoretical point of departure to a comprehensive understanding of political regimes starts from a historical-empirical understanding of political action and the constant changing class orientation of political actors as they re-locate in the class structure over time. Historical-empirical Marxism examines political-economy – the structural relations between ruling classes and the state and elected regimes and their electoral base.

This ‘materialistic’ approach de-mystifies the real meaning of ‘cultural politics’. For it is well known historically how reactionary and reformist politicians have combined pro-imperialist, pro-MNC economic policies with traditional cultural practices.

In Africa, Senghor in Senegal and Mobutu in Zaire emphasized ‘negritude’ as a cultural policy while opening the door to European and US pillage of their economies. Duvalier in Haiti, Haya del la Torre in Peru, Ferdinand Marcos in the Philippines and a number of other rulers combined traditional ethnic and religious identities with reactionary pro-imperialist policies. The fundamental question is what are the political economic property and class relations which frame the recovery of traditional cultural ethnic practices. Too often ethnic rulers manipulate traditional cultural symbolism to distract attention from class collaboration, to maintain or expand imperial domination of the economy and the concentration of land ownership.

I suggest that (Andean Indian) ‘cultural revival’ is an ideological weapon manipulated by Morales and Garcia Linera to create peasant-Indian cohesion and support for socio-economic policies which favor MNC, agro-exporters, bankers and business elite. In contrast some theorists engage in a historical-comparative classification scheme which places the Morales regime in the nationalist-populist framework of Arbenz of Guatemala (1946-1953), Peron of Argentina (1946-1955) and Vargas of Brazil. This method of historical analogy has its usefulness up to a point, but it overlooks major divergences.  Arbenz expropriated large sections of land from US-owned United Fruit Company and distributed it to landless Indians and peasants. Morales has promised repeatedly to defend large agro-business plantations. Peron expropriated petroleum interests and the railroads, funded an extensive social welfare system, doubled the minimum wage and backed the wage demands of labor. Morales has pursued orthodox fiscal and monetary policies.  Vargas created a large independent industrial sector, converting iron into steel. Morales sold off to the Indian MNC Jindal the vast Mutun iron and manganese mine on the most shameful and ridiculous terms and under conditions of minimum industrialization.

Contemporary positive comparison of Morales’ to Chavez’ ‘nationalism’ is also misplaced.  Chavez has expropriated large landed estates and resettled over 100,000 families, expropriated major US power and electrical companies, engaged in massive social spending and created new forms of direct citizen participation. Morales has co-opted social movement leaders and attempted to subordinate the movements they lead to his party-parliamentary politics. He rejects expropriation of privately-owned estates of the 100 biggest landowners and he maintains an austerity budget despite having the highest returns on energy and mining exports in history because of favorable international prices.  Without a clear theoretical framework, it is impossible to proceed to a comprehensive and deep understanding of the current and future direction of the Morales regime.

Morales-Garcia Linera (M-GL) Theorizing on Bolivian Capitalism

M-GL theorizing on Bolivian capitalism revolves around several axes:
1. a stage theory of political-economic change
2. a critique of neo-liberal capitalism embodied in the Sanchez de Losada model
3. an alternative conception of ‘normal capitalism’ or ‘Andean-Amazonian capitalism’ (MNC + State/Agro-Business Cooperation)
4. a strategic ‘productionist’ alliance with MNCs and Agro-Export elites and the ‘national bourgeoisie’
5. an eclectic alliance with Lula’s Brazil (via Petrobras), Kirchner’s Argentina (Repsol); Bachelet’s Chile, Chavez’ Venezuela, Castro’s Cuba, Bush’s USA and the EU and IMF/World Bank

The regime’s initial policies to secure the collaboration of the foreign and local economic elites were to pursue orthodox stabilization policies, restrict social/public investments, defend big property holdings and demobilize popular protest. The regime secured the support of Venezuela, Cuba and overseas progressive intellectuals and leaders with rhetorical ‘anti-imperialist’ speeches, cultural affirmations and personal diplomacy. On the domestic front, Morales co-opted leaders of social movements with positions in the governments, mademinimal concessions on local economic demands, mystified (temporarily) mass supporters with the rhetoric of nationalization and promises of agrarian reform and conjured ‘conspiracies’ and ‘plots’ at convenient moments of popular questioning.

The M-GL ‘Stage Theory’

The Morales-Garcia Linera theory of development is based on a Bolivarian version of liberal economic theory of stages of development.

During the first stage, the economy is stabilized via orthodox economic and fiscal policies. Existing property and class relations are guaranteed and state incentives, subsidies and long-term agreements are put in place. Wage demands and social expenditures are controlled to allow for high returns to increase the investments of the national and foreign bourgeoisie in industrial projects. During the second stage, the ‘take-off’, rising industrial production and commodity exports increase government revenues based on a strategic triple alliance of public, nationals and foreign capital. The theory is that greater wealth at the top will ‘trickle down’ to the bottom. Trade unions are tied to tripartite pacts. Efforts are made to contain and fragment wage and welfare demands to allow capital to accumulate. Parallel unions and enterprise contracts are used to divide workers.

During the third stage, Bolivia achieves ‘normal capitalism’ – landless peasants are displaced from the countryside and absorbed in the new industrializing-mineral sector or emigrate abroad. A minimum public welfare program is put in place. The economy expands, exports flourish and finance the state, taxes and expenditures are balanced and class conflict is confined to narrow ‘economic demands’. The MAS manages a corporatist system of State-Capital-Trade Unions.

The final stage, some decades or centuries in the future – ‘normal capitalism’ will outlive its usefulness as a motor of development and be superseded by a version of ‘Andean Socialism’, in which presumably Indians, workers and the national bourgeoisie will come together and socialize production.

This theory of development of ‘normal capitalism’ is largely derived from a critique of the previous ‘neo-liberal’ model embodied in the policies of ex-President Sanchez de Losada.

Comparison: Sanchez de Losada, Evo Morales and the Social Movements

The Morales-Garcia Linera (M-GL) attempt to create a Bolivian version of ‘normal capitalism’ (NC) grows out of a critique of the kleptocratic, predator ‘neo-liberal’ project of Sanchez de Losada and a rejection of the social revolutionary movement’s anti-capitalist program. The M-GL model of NC is neither a complete rupture nor simple continuation of the past nor an exclusion of the social movements. The M-GL model is premised on ‘harnessing’ the agro-business, banking and overseas MNCs which backed Sanchez de Losada, policies by regulating their behavior so that they pay their taxes and invest, and encouraging them to play by the rules of ‘normal capitalism’.

In order to pressure the economic elites to conform to M-GL model of NC, the regime relies on the social movements as a ‘battering ram’. M-GL use the social movement to block separatist movements against the ‘Luna’ coalition of provinces-centered in Santa Cruz. The regime relies on the movements to counter obstructionist activities in the Congress and Constituent Assemble and to secure passage of its petroleum and gas contracts with the MNCs. The Morales regime needs the movements to create a political counterweight to the predator kleptocratic neo-liberals, just as M-GL depends on the private economic elites to ‘develop’ the economy.

The problematical ‘balancing act’ is precarious because it requires economic concessions to the business sector (which supports the political right) and constant dramatic acting out of ‘political theater’ filled with symbolic acts for the social movements.

The social movements are the instrumentsnot the beneficiaries, of M-GL model. They serve to back Morales attempt to enlarge the state economic sector as part of a triple alliance composed of foreign MNCsin the extractive sector (petroleum, gas, tin and iron), in partnership with state enterprises and a private ‘national’ sector dominant in agro-export, banking, trade and medium sized mining sector (‘co-operatives’).

The Morales entire theoretical-conceptual model of ‘normal capitalism’ is based on the harmonization and articulation of the ‘triple alliance’ (TA). The TA excludes any structural changes in property and social relations. Equally important it depends on excluding the working class and peasantry from any of the economic and political positions of decision-makers or ‘levers of power’. Instead the TA is totally dependent on the cooperation of movement leaders, the de facto incorporation of the movements as appendages of the state. Periodic ‘mass meetings’ are convoked. Theatrical ‘military’ occupations of foreign enterprises are headed by Morales for dramatic publicity and propaganda. Unsubstantiated foreign elite ‘conspiracies’ and ‘plots’ are periodically denounced (precisely while prejudicial contracts are signed) to give the image of a besieged anti-imperialist president. No plotters are ever arrested or even named and the ‘investigations’ are inconsequential.

To clarify the distance between Morales-Garcia Linera from the social movements and the contrast between normal’ and predator capitalism, it is useful to identify their differences in crucial socio-economic and political issues.

 Issues Morales-Garcia Linera ‘Normal’ Capitalist Model Sanchez de LosadoPredator Capitalist Model Social Revolutionary Movement Model
MNC’s Petroleum and Gas Increase taxes, joint ventures Denationalization, low or no taxes, illegal sales of state firms Nationalization via expropriation under workers’ control
Agrarian Policy Promotion of Agro-exporters, land reform limited to unfertile public lands, mechanization Expropriation and illegal seizure of peasant and state lands, promotion of agro-business Comprehensive agrarian reform, expropriation of fertile productive lands
Race-Indian Policies Cultural-equality of races, respect for Indian tradition Racial discrimination at all levels and regions Socio-economic and cultural transformation- property and income transfers to Indian population
Corruption Prosecute contraband, morality in public office, public-private links. Kleptocratic regime – pillage of public resources, illegal trade, privatization, selling of land and enterprises Re-nationalization of all privatized firms; prosecute illegal profiteers and big business, MNCs and agro-exporters
Capitalism Broader representation, expansion of all sectors (upper, middle and petit bourgeoisie) and state Elite bourgeoisie, MNCs; marginalize petit bourgeoisie, narrow representation Expropriate big bourgeoisie; regulate middle, state control over commanding heights of economy
Foreign Investment Concessions, moderate taxes, promotion, joint ventures Tax-free concessions, low taxes, 100% ownership, low prices in sale of gas Expropriate under worker-state management
Income policy Austerity for wage/salary classes, budget surplus to increase foreign reserves; MNC to remit profits in hard currency.  Maintain inequalities, incremental increases in salaries/minimum wage Austerity for workers; elite pillage of tax revenues, expand inequalities; Freeze salaries of low-level public sector and minimum wage workers. Egalitarian income policies. Increase public investment in production, salaries, and minimum wages doubled. Capital controls.  Debt moratorium
Capital-Labor Relations Maintain capital-labor relation.  Revoke some repressive anti-labor laws. Oppose labor strikes and independent social mobilization Repressive regime, killing and jailing of protesting workers, peasants and the poor. End capitalist exploitation of labor; repeal all restrictive labor laws. Legislation to promote worker control of means of production. Prosecution of capitalist and political figures involved in killing of workers
Political-economic alliances Triple Alliance Big Bourgeoisie-MNCs Worker, peasant, Indian, poor urban dwellers alliance
Foreign Policy Eclectic: with progressive Cuba/Venezuela,With Neo-liberal Andean Pact and semi-autonomous to US-EU.  Maintains armed forces in Haiti. US Client, subordinate to European Union, Argentina and Brazilian MNCs Independent anti-imperialist policy-aligned with Venezuela-Cuba
Macro-economic policy Orthodox fiscal and monetary policy, tendency toward incremental public investment. Orthodox fiscal and monetary policy Expansion of public spending to production and popular consumption.

From the above synoptic overview of the three political-economic projects it is clear that the only political force favoring structural changes are the social revolutionary movements. Morales policies are basically incremental changes organized toward reforms of the capitalist system to incorporate a broader sector of capitalists, to expand the state capitalist sector and to provide greater representation for sectors of the private petit bourgeoisie. His policies revolve around ‘moralizing’ the bourgeois – to ensure they pay taxes, avoid corrupting officials, abide by regulations and report real profits and earnings.

It is precisely in Morales bourgeois ethical agenda that he most differs from the predator kleptocratic Sanchez de Losada’s policies. This is clear from the continuity of the same agro-export, big business and banking elites and MNC’s in the commanding heights of the economy. It is also evident tin the same disparities in income and landownership.

In style of rule, Morales relies on both the state apparatus and mass mobilization to maintain his rule and contain separatist elites of Santa Cruz, Beni, Cochamamba and Tarija. In contrast, Sanchez de Losada depended exclusively on the state apparatus and to lesser degree paramilitary groups allied with the agro-export groups. Under Sanchez de Losada, the state was implicated in repeated massacres; Morales relies on milder forms of repression, negotiations, co-optation and social control over force.

In summary, the empirical record demonstrates that Morales represents a new style of capitalist rule, a reform of capitalist ‘modus operandi’, new rules of capitalist expansion, an eclectic foreign policy and a modified coalition of capitalist rulers. In no way does it represent a radical or revolutionary break with capitalism – it represents an attempt to ‘moralize’ existing capitalist elites. Even Morales’ ‘reformist’ credentials are questionable – as no substantial budgetary changes have taken place, reducing social inequalities or substantially increasing the share of income going to wage/salary earners. Only in the narrowest sense of incremental increases in the minimum wage and public salaries can Morales be considered a ‘reformist’.  In the area of foreign policy, he is diplomatically eclectic – economically dependent on the MNCs, Morales is rhetorically ‘anti-imperialist’ while in practice following a high level of aid dependence on both Europe and the US.

Theoretical Critique

Over the years, leftists inside and outside of progressive regimes have counterpoised two divergent strategic conceptions of political-economic development with profoundly different consequences.

One school of thought argues that a newly elected regime should stabilize the economy, overcome the ‘crisis’, reconstruct the productive structure left in ‘shambles’ by the preceding reactionary regime before proceeding at a later period with structural changes.

The alternative view argues that the progressive government was elected precisely because of the crisis of the economic system and its task is to change the economic structures in order to consolidate power while the capitalist class is still discredited, disorganized and in crisis.

The ‘stabilization’ strategy of development presents several strategic problems. First of all, it allows the capitalist class time to regroup and recover from their political defeat, discredit and disarray. When the progressive government does not act at the moment of maximum political strength and when the opposition is at its weakest it loses a strategic advantage.

The M-GL strategy of stabilization illustrates the weaknesses and debilitating consequences of losing a historic moment. In the course of a year, the rightwing parties had regrouped, mobilized supporters and paralyzed the Constituent Assembly. The bourgeoisie and landowners effectively dictated the limits of any social changes.

The second problematic aspect of the ‘stabilization’ policy is that the progressive government imposes the socio-economic costs of reconstruction and crisis management on the working class through austerity budgets, tight monetary and incomes policies. By holding back on social spending and imposing restraints on labor demands and mobilization, the regime allows the capitalists to recover their rates of profit and to consolidate their class hegemony.

Thirdly a regime, whose economic policy weakens its popular social base and strengthens the recovery of its class opponents, is creating major obstacles to any subsequent effort at structural change. Even if the progressive regime ‘adapts’ to the regrouped capitalist class it cannot expect any strategic alliance because the capitalist class prefers its own political leaders and instruments and rejects any party or movement whose mass base can still exercise pressure.

Finally the stabilization policy revives a powerful economic power configuration within the political institutional structure which precludes any future changes. It is impossible to engage in serious structural changes once the popular classes have been demobilized, the capitalist class has overcome its crisis and the new political class is integrated into consolidated economic system. Stabilization strategy does not temporarily postpone change; it structurally precludes it for the future.

History has repeatedly demonstrated that when a ruling class is challenged or threatened by an insurrectionary movement, it will yield regime power to an electoral opposition committed to operating within the institutional parameters of the bourgeois state. The accession to government by ‘popular leaders’ is accepted in so far as the new governing class exercises control over the ‘dangerous classes’. In so far as the regime proceeds to simply ‘moralize’ the capitalist economy, guarantee the sanctity of big property interests and submit to the stalling tactics and frivolous procedural arguments in the Assembly or Congress, the capitalist class is emboldened and goes on the offensive, attacking the very existence of the unitary state, the legitimacy of the regime and even the minimum reforms.

While Morales-Garcia Linera look to a ‘national unity’ strategy of economic development based on a corporatist social-political model, the resurgent capitalist class (foreign and national) operating from the command of the strategic heights of the financial and export sectors, seizes each concession and demands more. The capitalist class substitutes the class struggle from above, from within the institutions and outside. The fundamental assumptions of ‘normal capitalism’ exposited by Morales-Garcia Linera come into fundamental conflict with the rationality and logic of capitalist accumulation and the need of the capitalist to rule exclusively by and for themselves.

Tolerance for cultural revivals, populist theater and old fashion political demagogy has its use in times of crisis and real threats in the street. Once consolidated the capitalist class looks to its own organic leaders, technocrats and cultural revindication of its rule.

Caught between a demobilized popular class, increasingly on the defensive and an ascending bourgeois on the offensive, the leaders of ‘Andean capitalism’ have no where to turn, except to grant new spaces to party loyalists, neo-liberal technocrats and even more clearly defined neo-liberal concessions.


James Petras
 is a Bartle Professor (Emeritus) of Sociology at Binghamton University, New York, USA. He is one of the most respected Marxists among the radical circles around the globe. His works on imperialism and new rural movements of the landless and poor peasantry have greatly influenced political activists and analysts in Africa, Asia and Latin America. He has worked with the Brazilian landless workers’ movement and the unemployed workers’ movement in Argentina.

“Build it Now”: An Interview with Michael A. Lebowitz

Michael Lebowitz’s Build it Now: Socialism for the Twenty-First Century is not just another book about the specificities of the Bolivarian Revolution. Like the Communist Manifesto, its purpose is to identify the participants in the ongoing class struggle – the fundamental struggle between the needs of capital and the needs of human beings – underlying contemporary capitalism and its crisis, exposing the contours of their practices. It refreshes the classical Marxist notion of a continuous and uninterrupted revolution of radical needs as practice of the working class, as its struggle for self-emancipation.

We all know that the mechanical dualisation of “objective conditions” and “subjective intervention” (taken as reactive and external) has always come handy in justifying the social democratic deferral of revolutionary tasks. Build it Now disarms the ideology of such deferral, by stressing “the need for activity, the need to struggle for [socialism] now”. But, then it also attacks the voluntarist tendencies of speculating recipes for the society of the future, as “socialism doesn’t drop from the sky”. Lebowitz finds both these ideological tendencies as reflections of a period of disappointment and defeat.

The beauty of Build it Now lies in presenting this dialectical critique as articulated within the contemporary practice of the working class – in the demolition and building of institutions and their discourses that impede and facilitate this practice. Definitely, Latin America, especially Venezuela, is the centre where this revolutionary class practice is present in its clearest form. However, the Venezuelan context simply shows,

There is an alternative. And it can be struggled for in every country. We can try to build that socialism now… So, today, let us say, “Two, Three, Many Bolivarian Revolutions!””

Build it Now has several implications for left practice throughout the globe, and the following discussion with Prof Lebowitz is an attempt to bring out a few such lessons relevant for our struggle.

Radical Notes (RN): You have been writing lately about the Bolivarian Revolution in Venezuela. Are there essential aspects of the Bolivarian model of a “democratic, participatory and protagonistic” society that would ensure a progress towards socialism for the 21st Century? Further, there are left intellectuals and leaders who assert that the Bolivarian revolution has been successful mainly due to the Venezuelan oil revenue, and since others do not have that advantage, its experiences cannot be emulated elsewhere. How far do you think this allegation/explanation is valid?

Lebowitz: At the core of the process that we can see in Venezuela are two essential elements: (a) the focus upon the full development of human potential as the goal and (b) the explicit recognition that the necessary condition for this human development is participation as subjects – i.e., revolutionary practice, the simultaneous changing of circumstances and human activity and self-change. This combination of vision and necessary practice is present in the Bolivarian Constitution with its emphasis upon overall human development and upon local planning and self-management and other forms of economic activity ‘guided by the values of mutual cooperation and solidarity.’ That combination is being realized at this very point, too – the creation of the new communal councils, where people in their neighbourhoods are beginning to direct activity toward the satisfaction of communal needs, and the new emphasis upon the development of workers councils demonstrate the definite deepening of this process.

However, nothing ensures progress towards socialism but struggle. Insofar, then that the path the Bolivarian Revolution is taking is one of mobilising and developing the capacities of masses, the potential to win that battle is increased. Certainly, having oil revenue makes it possible to attempt to deal with Venezuela’s enormous social debt quickly. But, I suggest that intellectuals and leaders who focus upon this unique characteristic are just looking for excuses to do nothing (or, more accurately, to follow the capitalist path). As I argued in Build it Now, ‘most of what stands out about the Bolivarian Revolution has little specifically to do with Venezuela. The struggle for human development, radical needs, the centrality of protagonistic democracy (within the workplace and the community), the understanding that people are transformed as they struggle for justice and dignity, that democracy is practice, that socialism and protagonistic democracy are one – these are the characteristics of a new humanist socialism, a socialism for the twenty-first century everywhere’ (118).

RN: A central theme in Build it Now is to reclaim a socialist vision based on human needs, or as Marx would say, “the worker’s own need for development”. In your work, we find this conception to be based on a critique of socialist practice that prioritised the task of removing the fetters in the development of means of production or technology. Thus, perhaps, it rejects the whole logic of “catching up” with capitalism that dominated the developmental discourse in the erstwhile ‘socialist’ countries. In your socialist vision the notion of development loses its neutrality and is redefined in terms of class struggle – as a struggle between the needs of capital vs. the needs of human beings (or collective worker!).

Lebowitz: For me, everything loses its neutrality.  In my book, Beyond Capital: Marx’s Political Economy of the Working Class, I argued that because Marx did not proceed to write the volume on Wage-Labour, Marxists have tended to forget about the side of workers, about workers as subjects struggling for their needs. They have mistaken Marx’s look at the side of capital for a study of capitalism as a whole. Once you focus upon this second side, the side in opposition to capital, it becomes clear that in order for capital to succeed in achieving its goals, it must defeat workers. Capital must divide and separate workers in order to defeat them.  Everything capital does, in fact, is permeated by its need to divide and separate workers. (I develop this point further in the Deutscher Prize Lecture, ‘The Politics of Assumption, the Assumption of Politics’, later published in Historical Materialism, 14(2):29-47, 2006)  How then could we ever think of technology or the means of production – and, indeed, any investment decision by capital – as neutral? The means of production and technology that capital introduces in the context of class struggle necessarily embody capital’s needs.  So yes, in this respect, the notion of development loses its neutrality.

In contrast to the productive forces introduced by capital, the productive forces introduced by a society oriented toward satisfying the needs of workers, satisfying in particular ‘the worker’s own need for development,’ are those which permit the full development of all the capacities and potential of human beings.  No one could say that the kind of technology that capital introduces permits this.  So in this respect, my emphasis definitely is upon the character of productive relations and how particular productive relations shape the nature of productive forces. The issue, then, is not one of catching up with capitalism.  Rather, it is one of creating a new path.

RN: In your work, you have also redefined the concept of endogenous development, where you seem to move away from its general conceptualisation as import-substitution efforts, welfarism and investment in “human capital”; you seem to stress more on whether or not the exploited and oppressed classes are subjects or protagonists of such development. You define endogenous development as “the real development of human potential which occurs as the result of human activity”, as “the transformation of people through their own activity, the building of human capacities”. Can you elaborate on this theme?

Lebowitz: When you start from the idea that our real goal is the development of all human potential, the development of rich human beings (the spectre that haunts Marx’s Capital and indeed is the premise for that work), you recognize the inadequacy of a definition of development which focuses upon specific sectors of the economy or, even upon investments by a state in inputs for what some people call human capital.  Rather, when you start from the focus upon human development and you understand (as Marx did) that real human development is the product of human activity, then you recognize that real endogenous development is the development of human productive forces.

Of course, characteristic of the Venezuelan focus upon endogenous development is also the desire to produce things that have been imported previously.  Both agriculture and domestic industry in Venezuela have been stunted by the ability to import these products cheaply because of oil revenues; the result has been a warped economy – one in which, despite having rich agricultural land, Venezuela imports 70% of its food. Now, some would say this is just a case of comparative advantage – that this specialization and exchange is economic efficiency. This is a prime example of the idiocy of neoclassical economics – a theory whose concept of efficiency does not take into account the effect upon human beings because it is an economics of capital and not of human beings. That masses of people are unemployed or in the reserve army that we politely call the informal sector, that they have little access to education or health facilities – these seem to be matters of minor concern; those who rationalize these effects of the market are simply the hired prize-fighters of neoliberalism. Venezuela’s particular concept of endogenous development, then, is the attempt to do two things simultaneously – transform circumstances and transform the capacities of the human subjects. It is what I called ‘radical endogenous development’, radical because it goes to the root which is human beings.

Through the encouragement of cooperatives and new state sectors organized on the basis of worker protagonism, Venezuela is attempting to build not only material productive forces but new human productive forces; it is attempting to unleash the potential of the masses. But, let me stress that this is not my concept of endogenous development. It is the Bolivarian concept. I have learned from this. And, we all should.

RN: Do you think the three tenures of President Chavez can be divided into phases of socialist construction? If yes, what are they?

Lebowitz: There is definitely a revolutionary process occurring in Venezuela, a very uneven one which is propelled by struggle. It is a process of struggle in which every advance can be reversed. I think that is the most important thing to understand.

Even if specific, discrete phases of socialist construction in Venezuela could be identified, I’m not certain about the utility of doing so. I really think we need to break away from schematic, stagist thinking. I am constantly amazed by the extent to which people think they can judge the Venezuelan process with the help of schema based upon the singular experience of the Soviet Union. The last thing we need to do now is create a new schema based upon the Venezuelan process. As I argued in ‘Socialism Doesn’t Drop from the Sky’ (published inBuild it Now), we all start the process of socialist construction from different places and, given our own particular histories and circumstances, ‘we would be pedantic fools if we insisted that there is only one way to start the social revolution.’ I went on to say, though, that ‘one step in every particular path is critical – control and transformation of the state.’

RN: John Holloway asserts that in the last century the revolutionaries’ stress on state power was essentially based on a false understanding of state as a mere instrument rather than as embedded “in the web of capitalist social relations”. In your critique of Holloway’s notion of “changing the world without taking power”, you seem to reaffirm the “orthodox” Marxist stress on the role of state power in the revolutionary process. But you have ruthlessly criticized statism, populism and totalitarianism too. So can you tell us briefly about the role of state power in the process of socialist construction, which, as we understand, is essentially a process of humanity’s “self-change”? How can “the sovereign people” transform themselves into “the object and the subject of power”? What can we learn from the Bolivarian experience in this regard?

Lebowitz: What Holloway had to say is not as interesting as the reception for a book which begins by saying we don’t know how to change the world without taking power and, almost 200 pages later, ends by saying the same thing. In both an extended on-line exchange with Holloway and my article about his book (‘Holloway’s Scream: Full of Sound and Fury’, Historical Materialism, 13(4):217-231, 2005) I argued that his position and the reception of his book reflect a period of defeat and demoralization. I see it as an example of the ‘morbid symptoms’ that appear when the new cannot yet be born.

In the exchange itself, I proposed that to be consistent he either had to repudiate his argument that the state is the ‘assassin of hope’ or attack the Bolivarian Revolution because it was spreading ‘the notion that society can be changed through the winning of state power.’ I find so much strange in the argument he presents in his book. How does Holloway deal with the power of the capitalist state (police, courts, armies)? As I demonstrate, he abandons Marxism for pure idealism by dissolving the power of the capitalist state through the power of logic. Of course, if you start from Holloway’s premise that capitalism is fragile and that we can huff and puff and blow it down by shouting our ‘No’s’, then I suppose it is consistent to say that you don’t need organization and you don’t need the power of the state.

So, it is definitely correct to describe my position on the role of the state in socialist transformation as traditional Marxism. I argue in both Beyond Capital and Build it Now that using political supremacy to wrest by degrees all capital from the bourgeoisie remains as critical now as when Marx and Engels wrote theCommunist Manifesto. Where my position may be less familiar, though, is in my insistence that for working people to be the subjects of power who can transform society, you need a state which provides the space for revolutionary practice, the development of the capacities of people through their activity. However, this is simply a return to Marx from the crude historical materialism that Marx rejected: the focus upon transformative practice is precisely why Marx embraced the Paris Commune model as the political form ‘at last discovered’ under which to work out the economical emancipation of labour.

Again, once you start from the emphasis upon human development and the recognition of the centrality of revolutionary practice, then it is self-evident that you must reject a hierarchical state, populism and totalitarianism. As I said in Beyond Capital,  ‘the form and the content of the workers’ state are inseparable. Only insofar as the state is converted “from an organ standing above society into one completely subordinate to it” can the working class “succeed in ridding itself of all the muck of ages and become fitted to found society anew”.’

How do you create such a state? I think there is no magic formula. The process will differ everywhere. In Venezuela, the impulse for the development of the communal councils as the basis for a new state has come largely from Chavez and, given the horror of the existing state, people have responded with enthusiasm. But, I’m sure there will be many paths to this point. What is important is knowing where you want (indeed,need) to go; the particular paths to that point will depend upon where you start in any particular society.

RN: In a situation of an unevenness of capitalist development throughout the globe, we find that for a large section of established “third world” left forces, the issue still remains that of greater industrialization and overcoming underdevelopment, which for them essentially signifies an insufficiency of national capitalist development. They also justify their reformist politics and compromises with neoliberal forces by invoking a kind of TINA rationale – the twin dangers of aggressive globalisation and the ever-looming possibility of capital strike. Do you think your critique of social democracy can also be directed against this tendency within the “third world” left?

Lebowitz: Within the Third World left, some groups which call themselves communist or Marxist (as in China these days) have reduced this only to a particular conception of the party – its internal practices and discipline and the view that the party is the instructor of masses and social movements.  They continue to talk about socialism but in practice, as in the case of Social Democratic parties, they see no alternative to capital; that is, they accept the logic of capital. Thus, we see them evoking various forms of the discredited stagist theory that insists that now (as always) is the time for capital to develop the productive forces – thereby demonstrating once again that history repeats itself as tragedy.

As I noted in Build it Now, the failure of social democracy in developed capitalist countries to break ideologically and politically with capital has meant that, despite all the ideals it expressed historically about building a better world, social democracy has enforced the logic of capital. The same is true of those elements of the left in the South which are relying upon capital to develop productive forces.

What can be done about that? I think there are real limits to spending one’s time attacking social democracy in all its forms theoretically and polemically. Many good working people are committed to these parties and tendencies because of their past struggles and achievements and, thus, are defensive in the face of such attacks. Rather, criticism in practice by the development of organization from below both develops the capacities of people as subjects and exposes the limitations of those who refuse to break with the logic of capital. To paraphrase Fidel, we do not exclude these parties; they exclude themselves.

 

(Build it Now: Socialism in the Twenty-First Century – Monthly Review/Amazon. In South Asia, contact: Daanish Books, A-901, Taj Apartments, Gazipur, Delhi-110 096, Tel:             011-5578 5559      , 2223 0812, Cell:             +91-98685 43637      , E-Mail: daanishbooks@gmail.com)

“Neoliberal” Leninism in India and its Class Character

Pratyush Chandra

“Criticism – the most keen, ruthless and uncompromising criticism – should be directed, not against parliamentarianism or parliamentary activities, but against those leaders who are unable – and still more against those who are unwilling – to utilise parliamentary elections and the parliamentary rostrum in a revolutionary and communist manner. Only such criticism-combined, of course, with the dismissal of incapable leaders and their replacement by capable ones-will constitute useful and fruitful revolutionary work that will simultaneously train the “leaders” to be worthy of the working class and of all working people, and train the masses to be able properly to understand the political situation and the often very complicated and intricate tasks that spring from that situation.” (V.I. Lenin, Left-Wing Communism: an Infantile Disorder, Chapter 7)

1. Lenin and the CPIM’s Leninism

The Communist Party of India-Marxist (CPIM)-led Left Front government in its endeavour to industrialise West Bengal, admittedly within the larger neoliberal framework of the Indian state’s economic policies, is ready to scuttle every act of popular vigilance in the manner which Lenin would have called “bureaucratic harassment” of workers-peasants’ self-organisation. India’s official left position on neoliberal industrialisation and its potentiality to generate employment is very akin to what Lenin characterised “Narodism melted into Liberalism”, as the official left “gloss[es] over [the] contradictions [of industrialisation] and try to damp down the class struggle inherent in it.”(1)

In fact, the mass organisations of the official left in West Bengal have for a long time been the main bulwarks of the state government to pre-empt any systematic upsurge of the workers and peasants. They have become increasingly what can be called the ideological state apparatuses to drug the masses and keep them in line. And in this, Leninism has been reduced to an ideology, an apologia for the Left Front’s convergence with other mainstream forces on the neoliberal path, giving its “steps backwards” a scriptural validity and promoting an image that in fact this is the path towards revolution – all in the name of consolidation and creating objective conditions for revolution. For justifying their compromises locally in West Bengal, CPIM leaders have found handy innumerable quotations from Lenin, and sometimes from Marx too.  Contradictory principles and doctrines can easily be derived from their statements, if read as scriptures and taken out of contexts. Hence, as a popular saying in India confirms, baabaa vaakyam pramaanam, which loosely means, you can prove anything on the basis of scriptures.

Of course, this can be a variety of Leninism, as there are varieties mushrooming like religious sects, but such was not Lenin. Lenin himself never treated Marx’s writings as scriptural for justifying his every tactical move. Furthermore, especially after the defeat of other European revolutions, on many occasions he was ready to acknowledge Russia’s “steps backwards”, even during the formulation and implementation of the New Economic Policy. His defence of the independence of working class organisation and power beyond state formation in his attack on Trotsky’s advocacy of the regimentation of trade unions was especially for countering the counter-revolutionary potential in the Russian state’s “steps backwards” by ever-stronger working class vigilance. Lenin had the guts to say, “We now have a state under which it is the business of the massively organised proletariat to protect itself, while we, for our part, must use these workers’ organisations to protect the workers from their state, and to get them to protect our state. Both forms of protection are achieved through the peculiar interweaving of our state measures and our agreeing or “coalescing” with our trade unions.”(2; emphasis mine)

Such was Lenin even as the leader of the Soviet State, unlike the CPIM-led Left Front’s leadership, which seeks to stabilise its rule in a tiny part of India, where, it admits, its government can have no sovereignty.

The CPIM’s energetic peasant leader Benoy Konar (who rails against Naxal conspiracy in every disturbance in West Bengal), a major stalwart in the present debate on repression and agitation in the state, says, “West Bengal is a federal state in a capitalist feudal country. What its government has done is just a miniscule step compared to what Lenin was forced to do, even after the revolution. If this is what upsets these “true” Marxists so much, we request them to stop living in their imaginations and step into the real world.”(3) This logic is very instructive, indeed. It is precisely the case – Lenin could afford to do what he was forced to do because the revolution had taken place. Also, the “steps backwards” were essentially for the sustainability of the state, without changing its basic character – workers-peasants state, taking the risk of further bureaucratisation and distortion, which he thought the independent assertion of the working class would weed out eventually. If Konar and his gurus are forcing themselves to do the same in a “capitalist feudal country”, then it is for whose sustainability – of the “capitalist feudal” state?

2. CPIM and its Self-Criticisms

Throughout its thirty years of continuous rule, the West Bengal government’s main concern has been to stabilise its local rule within the parameters set by India’s state formation, and the hegemonic political economic set-up in the country. It boasts of its successes, but at what cost? The exigencies of the parliamentarist integration reinforced the accommodation and consolidation of a “supra-class” ideology within the communist political habits imbibed during its appendage to the nationalist movement, throughout India in general, and West Bengal in particular. This explains a less radical approach towards land reforms in the region.(4) The CPI-CPIM’s role became limited to controlling and policing the radicalisation of its own mass base, as in the 1960s-70s, especially with regard to the Naxal movement. It is interesting to note today how every attempt to form an organisation of the rural proletarians and small peasantry, independent of the rich and middle peasant (who benefited from the movements on tenancy rights and against the Bargadari system) dominated Kisan Sabhas, is systematically repressed by Bengal’s state machinery and party.

When the CPIM capitulated to electoral politics resorting to tactical measures and strategic sloganeering, because of the so-called popular mandate in its parliamentarist pursuit, militancy became a thing to be repeated only in speeches and slogans as its practice can alienate few votes, precious votes. This is not to say that it was only a subjective transition or a matter of conscious choice, rather, it represented the latent politics of the party leadership’s class character. In fact, the only thing lacking was a conscious and consistent opposition within, despite the fact that the party was aware of this from the very beginning. In one of its early documents, it noted:

“The struggle against revisionism inside the Indian Communist movement will neither be fruitful nor effective unless the alien class orientation and work among the peasantry are completely discarded. No doubt, this is not an easy task, since it is deep-rooted and long-accumulated and also because the bulk of our leading kisan activists come from rich and middle peasant origin, rather than from agricultural labourers and poor peasants. Their class origin, social links and the long training given to them give a reformist ideological-political orientation which is alien to proletarian class point and prevent them from actively working among the agricultural labourers, poor and middle peasants with the zeal and crusading spirit demanded of Communists. Hence the need and urgency to rectify and remould the entire outlook and work of our Party in the kisan movement.”(5)

To this P. Sundarayya adds in 1973 (when he was the party’s general secretary), “the same old reformist deviation is still persisting in our understanding and practice”, which frequently leads to “the repudiation of the Party Programme formulations.” (6)

This was all before the concern for stabilising its rule and building social corporatism – “peace”, “harmony”, etc., in West Bengal became the party’s prime agenda. Today, the state government’s industrialisation and urbanisation policies express the needs of the neo-rich gentry, a considerable section of which is the class of absentee landowners, dominating the bureaucratic apparatuses and service sector, who legitimately want a share in India’s corporate development. When the Kolkata session of the All India Kisan Council held on January 5-6, 2007 asks “the state government to forge ahead on the path of industrialisation based on the success of land reforms and impressive agricultural growth” (7), it is simply expressing the interests of all those who have benefited the most from the success of limited agrarian reforms.

The party is aware that if they alienate these class forces, it will not be possible to remain in power in “a constitutional set-up that is not federal in nature” and which reproduces their ideological hegemony through various identitarian and legal relations influencing the voting pattern of the electorate. As the present party general secretary Prakash Karat, notes:

“It was clear then as now that the policies implemented by Left-led governments would always be circumscribed by the fact that State power vests with the centre while state governments have very limited powers and resources. This is the reality of a constitutional set-up that is not federal in nature. This understanding was further clarified when Left-led governments began to rule in the three states of West Bengal, Kerala and Tripura for longer periods of time. Within all the constraints and limitations of office, these governments have to take steps to fulfil their commitments to the people and offer relief to the working people. While there are urgent issues before Left-led governments, including those of protecting livelihoods in agriculture, creating jobs by means of industrial development, and improving the quality of people’s lives, alternative policies in certain spheres can be implemented only within the constraints imposed by the system.”(8)

If this is not the Third Way, the there-is-no-alternative (TINA) syndrome, then one wonders what it can be. Zizek defines the Third Way as “simply global capitalism with a human face, that is, an attempt to minimize the human costs of the global capitalist machinery, whose functioning is left undisturbed.”(9) It is an old disease that inflicts all social democratic parties, once they start talking about consolidation within the bourgeois framework. Compare:

“Let no one misunderstand us”; we don’t want “to relinquish our party and our programme but in our opinion we shall have enough to do for years to come if we concentrate our whole strength, our entire energies, on the attainment of certain immediate objectives which must in any case be won before there can be any thought of realising more ambitious aspirations.”

To this Marx and Engels answered back in 1879:

“The programme is not to be relinquished, but merely postponed – for some unspecified period. They accept it – not for themselves in their own lifetime but posthumously, as an heirloom for their children and their children’s children. Meanwhile they devote their “whole strength and energies” to all sorts of trifles, tinkering away at the capitalist social order so that at least something should appear to be done without at the same time alarming the bourgeoisie.”(10; emphasis original)

This is the state of a self-acclaimed “revolutionary” party caught up in an existential struggle – “tinkering away at the capitalist social order”! Why not, “the journey towards socialism would begin only after the accomplishment of the task of the bourgeoisie democratic revolution. If the bourgeois did not join the democratic revolution, it would be easier for the working class to establish its leadership in it which would help in the next stage of socialist revolution.”(11) So friends, nothing to worry about, on behalf of the working class, the CPIM is actually taking a time out for accomplishing the ‘democratic revolutionary’ tasks. If the working classes – rural and urban – are being forced to shut up, it is all for ensuring their leadership!  So, “the programme is not to be relinquished, but merely postponed – for some unspecified period…”

The CPI(M)’s capitulation to an alien class-ideological orientation is stark in its continuous effort to de-radicalise the left trade union politics. Parallel to Sundarayya’s self-criticism, Chief Minister Buddhadeb Bhattacharya too has been time and again indulging in his own variety of self-criticism. His statements are very straight-forward, as he seldom minces words in his pandering to corporate interests. In one of his interviews to The Hindu (November 16, 2005), he says: “We did commit certain wrong things in the past. There were investors really afraid of trade unions here. But things have changed… I am in constant touch with our senior trade union leaders and keep telling them that it is now a different situation. …I tell [trade union leaders] they must behave. If you do not behave companies will close, you will lose your jobs.”(12)

The combination of subjective and objective factors determines the tenor of the official left politics everywhere in India today. So the repression of strikers at the Kanoria jute mill in 1993-94 and Singur/Nandigram incidents are not something unexpected. They are expressions of the Left Front’s stable rule in West Bengal for thirty years. These are the imperatives rising from the limitations, about which the Front and CPIM never tire to talk, and in which their existential politics is embedded. They do so, as there-is-no-alternative.

3. No “Doublespeak”, but the “Narodnik-like Bourgeois” speaks

Unsurprisingly, the CPIM’s present general secretary Prakash Karat whom some of us used to admire for his strong positions uncomfortable for the parliamentarian lobbies within the party has come out strongly in defence of the same parliamentarianism. His general secretaryship demands that. In India, the days are gone when within these communist parties, a general secretary used to be the voice of a particular programmatic tendency. The designation has been increasingly reduced to a ‘post’ in the permanent hierarchy, where the post-holder like a civil servant voices whichever tendency dominates in the party.

Prakash Karat accuses the ‘left opposition’ to the Left Front’s industrialisation policies of Narodism, which too is not very surprising. It is one of our standard abuses, along with ‘infantile disorder’, ‘revisionism’, etc… However, Karat in his defence really means it, when he says: “The CPIM will continue to refute the modern-day Narodniks who claim to champion the cause of the peasantry”, as he appends this with a note on the Narodniks.(13)

It seems Karat is ignorant – either he feigns it, or it is real – about Lenin’s analysis of Narodism. Lenin’s criticism of the Narodnik revolutionaries was mainly centred on their faulty understanding of Russian reality; unlike the Narodniks he saw a slow, but definite evolution of capitalism and capitalist market. He stressed strategising on the basis of this new reality. On the other hand, the Narodniks saw capitalism still simply as a possibility, and thus like true petty bourgeois revolutionaries dreamt of evading the ruthlessness of capitalist accumulation, while often lauding bourgeois freedom and democracy. Lenin in his diatribes obviously underlined the utopianism of this programme, but only on the basis of a critique of the political economy of capitalism in Russia. His fundamental stress was to describe the processes of capitalist accumulation, the ruthlessness of which was compounded by its impurity, its ‘incompleteness’. Definitely, an important component of Lenin’s programme was embedding the democratic struggle against feudal remnants in the unfolding of the socialist revolution:

“Thus the red banner of the class-conscious workers means, first, that we support with all our might the peasants’ struggle for full freedom and all the land; secondly, it means that we do not stop at this, but go on further. We are waging, besides the struggle for freedom and land, a fight for socialism. The fight for socialism is a fight against the rule of capital. It is being carried on first and foremost by the wage-workers, who are directly and wholly dependent on capital. As for the small farmers, some of them own capital themselves, and often themselves exploit workers. Hence not all small peasants join the ranks of fighters for socialism; only those do so who resolutely and consciously side with the workers against capital, with public property against private property.”(14; emphasis mine)

Lenin’s analysis of capitalism in agriculture showed a growing peasant differentiation. This led him to stress on the heterogeneity of proletarian attitude towards diverse peasant classes. He criticised the populism of the Narodniks and also the liberals who put forward a homogenised notion of “narod” (people). The same notion is found in the Indian official left’s attitude towards the peasantry and its assessment of the land reform efforts in the left-ruled states. When it calls upon consolidating the gains from land reforms achieved in a “capitalist feudal” society and pursuing industrialisation on their basis, it consistently evades the question of peasant differentiation. Such evasion is a reflection of the consolidation, within the left leadership, of the hegemonic interests that necessarily rose after the limited land reforms measures. As Sundarayya indicated, this lobby had already congealed within the CPIM and been affecting its work in the rural areas, much before it enjoyed the cosiness of the state power. Its consistent success in undermining the rise of the rural proletarians and their organisation in West Bengal is indicative of the strength of this lobby. When Benoy Konar and the All India Kisan Sabha speak for industrialisation based on the gains in agriculture, they speak on the behalf of the rising kulaks and upper middle class in West Bengal who would like to invest and profit on the peripheries and as local agencies of the neoliberal industrialisation – in real estate, in outsourcing and other businesses which are concomitant appendages to the neoliberal expansion.

While differentiating the agrarian programme of the Social Democrats (when the revolutionary Marxists still identified themselves with this name) from that of the liberals, Lenin criticised the latter’s “distraught Narodism” – “Narodism melting into Liberalism”, which represented the Narodnik-like bourgeoisie, and explained:

“Firstly, the Social-Democrats want to effect the abolition of the remnants of feudalism (which both programmes directly advance as the aim) by revolutionary means and with revolutionary determination, the liberals – by reformist means and half-heartedly. Secondly, the Social-Democrats stress that the system to be purged of the remnants of feudalism is a bourgeois system; they already now, in advance, expose all its contradictions, and strive immediately to extend and render more conscious the class struggle that is inherent in this new system and is already coming to the surface. The liberals ignore the bourgeois character of the system purged of feudalism, gloss over its contradictions and try to damp down the class struggle inherent in it.”(15; emphasis mine)

Here Lenin clearly states that “distraught Narodism” lies, firstly, in its reformist means, and secondly, in not recognising that the system is already a bourgeois system, hence the basic struggle is against the rule of capital. As Lenin indicated and as it is clear in the case of the CPIM in West Bengal, the ideology of “distraught Narodism” is an ideology of the class of Narodnik-like local bourgeoisie, which is necessarily Janus-headed. On the one hand, it feels insecure before its established competitors and their ‘bigness’, thus consistently calls upon the state to protect its interests. On the other, it is mortified when it feels the presence of its impoverished twin – the growing number of proletarians – as a result of capitalism in agriculture and also due to neoliberal “primitive accumulation”. Most dangerous is the faithlessness and weariness that this class of rural and urban proletarians displays towards the neoliberal euphoria – since it has already experienced more than 150 years of ups and downs of capitalist industrialisation, and its increasingly moribund nature. The Bengali political elites’ “doublespeak” vocalised by the CPIM is actually the reflection of the “Narodnik-like” character of the local bourgeoisie and petty bourgeoisie, torn between the ecstatic possibility of their neoliberal integration, on the one hand, and the rising competition and class struggle, on the other. However, the ideology of homogeneous Bengali interests, along with the “communist” organisations and pretensions come handy in controlling these volatile segments, at least temporarily. It is interesting to note, how the CPIM leadership evades recognising the class character of “land reforms”, “impressive agricultural growth” and industrialisation as far as possible in its discourse, while overstressing their virtues. It is similar to the discursive habits of the Russian liberals – “distraught Narodniks”, which Lenin thus noted, while criticising “Mr L.”:

“Depicting the beneficent effect of the French Revolution on the French peasantry, Mr. L. speaks glowingly of the disappearance of famines and the improvement and progress of agriculture; but about the fact that this was bourgeois progress, based on the formation of a “stable” class of agricultural wage-labourers and on chronic pauperism of the mass of the lower strata of the peasantry, this Narodnik-like bourgeois, of course, says never a word.”(16)

4. Conclusion

When enthusiasm for neoliberal industrialisation is not well received, as a last resort in defence of the neoliberal policies in West Bengal, ‘vanguards’ like Prakash Karat and his associates have a ready apologia that “in a constitutional set-up that is not federal in nature”, the left government policies “would always be circumscribed by the fact that State power vests with the centre while state governments have very limited powers and resources.” (It does not matter that the CPIM’s other leader, Benoy Konar, talks of the same constraints by admitting West Bengal as “a federal state in a capitalist feudal country.”)

It is tempting to interpret this demand for more federalism in India as representative of “the demand made in certain circles that local self-governing institutions should also be given the autonomy to borrow and to negotiate investment projects with capitalists, including multinational banks and corporations”, as Prabhat Patnaik, a foremost Indian political economist, known for his allegiance to the CPIM and who has been lately appointed as Kerala’s State Planning Board Vice-Chairman, puts it. He continues, “this will further increase the mismatch in bargaining strength between the capitalists and the state organ engaged in negotiating with them, and will further intensify the competitive struggle among the aspirants for investment… This can have only one possible result which is to raise the scale of social ‘bribes’ for capitalists’ investment. This increase in the scale of social “bribes” is an important feature of neo-liberalism.”(17)

Particularly relevant in this regard are the CPIM leadership’s and the West Bengal government’s statements on Singur, in which they consistently fetishise the Left Front’s ability to win away the Tata project from a poorer state of Uttarakhand – an example of its competency in ‘social bribery’! Chief Minister Buddhadeb Bhattacharya again and again with all his frankness defended his Singur sale to Tata – “We showed them various sites, but they settled for Singur. We could not say no to such a project, otherwise it would have gone to Uttarakhand.”(18)

This is symptomatic of the extent to which the official Indian left has re-trained itself in the competitive culture of neoliberal industrialisation. Of course, it does not have any parliamentary stake in Uttarakhand. Or does the party leadership want to entice the Uttarakhand people to choose CPIM, for its efficiency in negotiating or ‘bribing’ for neoliberal projects? It is obvious that in order to remain the sole contender of the nationalising and globalising interests of the West Bengal hegemonic classes, the CPIM leadership has been giving vent to Bengali parochialism of the local “Narodnik-like bourgeoisie”.

Notes:

(1) V.I. Lenin, The Narodnik-Like Bourgeoisie and Distraught Narodism, 1903.http://www.marxists.org.uk/archive/lenin/works/1903/nov/05a.htm

(2) V.I. Lenin, The Trade Unions. The Present Situation and Trotsky’s Mistakes, 1920.http://www.marx2mao.com/Lenin/TUTM20.html

(3) Benoy Konar, Left Front Govt And Bengal’s Industrialisation, People’s Democracy, October 08, 2006.http://pd.cpim.org/2006/1008/10082006_benoy%20konar.htm

(4) See Dipankar Basu, Political Economy of ‘Middleness’: Behind Violence in Rural Bengal, Economic & Political Weekly, April 21, 2001. http://www.epw.org.in/showArticles.php?root=2001&leaf=04&filename=2411&filetype=pdf

(5) P Sundarayya, Central Committee Resolution on Certain Agrarian Issues and An Explanatory Note, CPIM Publications, 1973.

(6) Ibid.

(7) All India Kisan Council, Resolution: Unite To Fight And Defeat All Moves To Stop The Industrialisation Of West Bengal, People’s Democracy, January 14 2007. http://pd.cpim.org/2007/0114/01142007_aiks%20meeting.htm

(8) Prakash Karat, “Double-Speak” Charge: Maligning The CPI(M), People’s Democracy, January 28 2007.http://pd.cpim.org/2007/0128/01282007_prakash.htm

(9) Slavoj Zizek, The Fragile Absolute, Verso, 2000, p.63.

(10) Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, Circular Letter to August Bebel, Wilhelm Liebknecht, Wilhelm Bracke and Others, 1879. http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1879/09/18.htm

(11) Benoy Konar, West Bengal: Rationale For Industrialisation, People’s Democracy, November 06, 2005.http://pd.cpim.org/2005/1106/11062005_benoy%20kumar.htm

(12) The Hindu November 16, 2005. http://www.hindu.com/2005/11/16/stories/2005111605361100.htm

(13) See (8)

(14) V.I. Lenin, The Proletariat and the Peasantry, 1905.http://www2.cddc.vt.edu/marxists//archive/lenin/works/1905/nov/12.htm

(15) See (1)

(16) Ibid.

(17) Prabhat Patnaik, An Aspect of Neoliberalism, People’s Democracy, December 24, 2006.http://pd.cpim.org/2006/1224/12242006_eco.htm

(18) Frontline, Jan. 27-Feb. 09, 2007. http://www.frontlineonnet.com/fl2402/stories/20070209002911200.htm

The Meaning of Adam’s Fallacy: An Interview with Duncan K Foley

Adam’s Fallacy: A Guide to Economic Theology has critical implications not only for the official discipline of mainstream economics, but also for various  contemporary anti-capitalist movements, which frequently reproduce ‘Adam’s fallacy’, inheriting the moral philosophy and dualisms that constitute this fallacy . Naturally, professional economists like Robert Solow , Brad DeLong and others have been quite actively seeking to dampen the book’s impact. However, the book contains several lessons that are crucial for people interested or involved in social transformation, especially after the collapse of the major 20th century socialist experiments. In this regard, Radical Notes (RN) decided to forward a few questions to Prof Duncan K Foley (DKF) for his responses, which we reproduce here. Readers might find other articles that we published earlier on the book helpful.

RN: You have distinctly mentioned right in the beginning of Adam’s Fallacy that for you this fallacy resides in the compartmentalization of spheres of life into the economic and the rest of social life. And you consider this dualistic view of social life as the essence of political economy and economics. Can you please elaborate on this? If this dualism is ideological can we understand it as essential for the reproduction of capitalist social life?

DKF: The specific fallacy is Smith’s claim that the pursuit of self-interest, which has to be balanced against regard for others in other human interactions, can be trusted to lead to good outcomes both for oneself and others in the context of competitive market interactions. This idea has reconciled many people to the morally troubling consequences of capitalist development. It leads, as I show in the book, to the development of political economy and modern economics as discourses which claim a “scientific” status but whose content is in one way or another a discussion of this moral philosophical question. The dualism may not be essential for capitalist reproduction, but it seems to me to be an inevitable outgrowth of the contradictions of capitalist social relations.

RN: Many radical political economists have opined that underlying neoliberalism there is a politics of separating the political from the economic. According to them this separation has a specific significance through which the influence of popular politics, especially that of the working class, is neutralized. By alienating the power of economic decision-making from the democratic institutions, and bestowing it on market forces and financial and other supra-national bureaucratic institutions, the capitalist forces disarm the subversive influences of the counter-hegemonic forces. Do you think this is the theological-political role of the neoliberal reformulation of Adam’s Fallacy?

DKF: This is a good example of Adam’s Fallacy. But note that, when it finds it convenient to do so, neoliberal discourse connects politics and economics in the formulation that democracy and free markets are preconditions for each other’s development. The content of democracy is often hostile to the neoliberal worldview, since voters do like measures increasing their economic security, redistributing income, and regulating the excesses of capitalist development. (They also like rising standards of living when capitalist development manages to deliver them.) The history of the twentieth century also throws doubt on the other half of this claim, since authoritarian political regimes have frequently been the sponsors of “free” market economic institutions.

RN: Can we reread Marx’s “critique” of political economy, not only in Capital but also in his direct political writings, as a critique of this dualism, since he seeks to produce an ideology-critique in his exposition of the capitalist socio-economic formation, especially when he presents his theory of commodity fetishism? In your chapter on Marx, you seem to indicate this.

DKF: Marx had a lively sense of the damage capitalist institutions can do to human personality and the potential for human development. His discussions of the problem of alienation, including the section of chapter 1 of Volume I of Capital on commodity fetishism, center on various ways in which capitalist society fragments human experience. On the other hand, I am not convinced that Marx completely integrated this vision into his more analytical work on economics and his theory of socialist alternatives. In Adam’s Fallacy, I argue that Marx’s sketch of socialist institutions in his comments on the Gotha Programme incorporates much of the dualism he critiques elsewhere. In broad outline the society pictured in this text functions very much like the capitalist society it is supposed to have displaced.

RN: Very importantly, you have noted in the preface and briefly explained in your chapter on Marx, that despite being the “severest critic” of capitalism he reproduces Adam’s fallacy in his theorization. You find this present especially in his attempt to concretize his vision of socialism. You say, “Despite his vigorous critique of the commodity form of production, Marx’s concrete vision of socialism carries with it a lot of capitalist baggage”.(151) Can you explain this a little bit? Further do you find this fallacy affecting his analysis of capitalism to some degree?

DKF: The economic institutions described in the Gotha Programme recapitulate many of the institutions of capitalism. Workers receive compensation in proportion to the labor time they expend, but after the “deduction” of funds for social purposes, including accumulation of the means of production. Both the distributional and macroeconomic aspects of this plan look more like capitalism, than, say, traditional agricultural society. Marx may have acknowledged this contradiction in separating the concept of “socialism” as a transitional system from “communism” as a somewhat utopian vision in which the dualisms underlying economics and political economy have somehow been transcended. Perhaps the way these issues appear in Marx’s analysis of capitalism center on his claim that the commodity form itself, which is Marx’s version of Smith’s division of labor, is at the root of the contradictions of capitalist society. This leaves us uncertain as to Marx’s attitude toward the division of labor. Does he think socialism or communism can sustain a complex division of labor without the deleterious effects capitalist social relations have on human relations and personality? Or does he believe that society can somehow do without the division of labor altogether, or that it can be sustained by some kind of conscious central direction?

RN: While delving into the actual practice of socialism, you note that the Russian and Chinese experiments were instances “of the modernizing face of Marxism as a path to capitalism”. Can we understand this use of Marxism as its reduction into an ideology for justifying nationalist capitalist practices, excising its revolutionary essence? If yes, do you think the possibility of such reduction is a sign of the presence of Adam’s Fallacy in Marx’s incomplete theorization of socialism and inconsistencies?

DKF: The Russian and Chinese experiments were revolutionary enough. It was only through the unleashing and organizing of revolutionary impulses that these regimes could survive modernization without being submerged in the capitalist world system. The economic content of these experiments was modernization and the establishment of recognizably capitalist institutions, industrial urbanization, proletarianization, the destruction of traditional agriculture, etc., in the countries involved. I don’t think it is completely satisfactory to characterize this complex of developments as a “reduction” of Marxism, since it involved a melding of Marxist ideas with nationalism and economic development. If Marx had produced a “purer” and more consistent critique of capitalism, his ideas might not have had nearly the influence they did on a world scale.

RN: Marxists have understood capitalism as a global (world) system, and have found national or regional underdevelopment intrinsic to uneven global capitalist accumulation. What do you think about the development theories (including the radical ones) that attempt to identify the internal and external constraints to endogenous development and inform national political economic practices for ‘catching up’, without rejecting the logic of capital, market and commodity production? Do you think such attempt is self-defeating, and reproduce Adam’s Fallacy – of combining self-interests with national goods?

DKF: History shows that capital accumulation reproduces unevenness on whatever stage it operates, and we have a pretty good notion of why this is true. The metabolism of capitalism Smith described, and the other political economists I discuss in the book elaborated, destroys existing institutions and creates backwardness as a precondition of its successes. Schumpeter expressed this in describing capital accumulation in the phrase “creative destruction”, but it is also behind Malthus’ demographic pessimism, Keynes’ anxiety about the stability of capitalist development, and Veblen’s vision of the clash between the pecuniary and workmanlike instincts. I doubt that the world will see any smooth “convergence” eliminating the phenomenon of uneven development. The pathos of development policy, especially in less-favored economies, lies in its constant temptation to sacrifice the actual conditions of well-being of the population to meet the (sometimes imagined) demands of the world market. Why not base economic policy on securing as best one can the actual conditions of life in a country, and create a base from which a society can exploit the world market rather than the other way around?

RN: Recent political mobilizations and struggles against neoliberalism, especially in Latin America, have once again brought the agenda of alternatives to capitalism to the fore. Many Marxists see in these struggles an alternative to productivist and vanguardist practices of the erstwhile socialist experiments. You too have noted,

The forces Marx saw as leading to revolutionary social change in capitalist societies remain potent and present…. The moment in which these forces might have concentrated in decisive centralized revolutionary change, however, has most likely passed. We live in an epoch in which these potential agents of change are dispersed into thousands of particular, often apparently unconnected, struggles over income distribution, social justice, environment protection, and personal security and freedom. It remains to be seen whether these moments of social transformation will coalesce to transform capitalist society”.(153-54)

Could you elaborate your idea of social transformation, in the context of these recent struggles?

DKF: Political alternatives rest on some specific social-economic base, as an expression of some particular constellation of class interests and alliances. In the middle of the twentieth century Latin American politics tended to be dominated by a coalition of national capitalists and urban workers. The collapse of this coalition set the stage for the current political developments in these countries. (The collapse of this coalition also was a crucial precondition for the opening of Latin American markets to international capital through liberalized trade and investment.) It is not easy to maintain rigorous links between specific struggles for basic human rights and economic policy. Feminism, for example, has as many quarrels with the paternalistic face of capitalism as it does with capitalism itself, and in the immediate situation what women have to fight for is fuller access to capitalist institutions. It is capitalist industrialization that is producing a world environmental crisis, but it is easier to control the actual environmental impacts through market-oriented institutional reform than through changing the organization of production. But there is also tremendous cumulative power in social transformations, and a world which is decisively greener and less sexist would have to undergo transformations of basic capitalist institutions, too.

RN: If we are correct, right from the time when your paper entitled “Problems vs. Conflicts: Economic Theory and Ideology” (American Economic Review, Volume 65, issue 2, 1975) was published, a major concentration of your work has been a critique of methodological individualism that underlies much of the economic ‘ideologies’. Even in your highly technical and mathematical works, you have sought to expose the internal fallacies and inconsistencies of sophisticated economic theories. We see Adam’s Fallacy as a powerful indictment of the ideological/theological practices of economics as a discipline. What do you think is the future of this discipline and what should be the role of Marxist and radical ‘economists’ in the discipline? Can there be any meaningful exchange and collaboration between the orthodoxy and heterodoxy in the discipline, as some have attempted?

DKF: You certainly thought up a lot of hard questions for this interview! In some ways economics as a “discipline” is dissolving in front of our eyes. The idea of economics as a unified and universal science of allocation of scarce resources in the face of competing goals seems to be in decline. The practice of economics resembles more and more generic social science, with a focus on small problems that can provide the pretext for a dazzling display of modelling and econometric virtuosity. Physics, psychology, and sociology each in their way are encroaching on the traditional turf of economics. The traditional “big” questions of economics are increasingly of interest only to heterodox thinkers, who are old-fashioned enough to continue to work on issues the mainstream views as having been long settled beyond debate. I think economics has always reproduced itself through divisions between orthodoxy and heterodoxy. The role of heterodoxy in this long-standing division of intellectual labor is to make mainstream economists as uncomfortable as possible. Whether this constantly-reproduced interaction can rise to the level of “exchange and collaboration” remains to be seen.

Neoliberalism and Primitive Accumulation in India

The need to go beyond capital

Pratyush Chandra
Dipankar Basu

Recent events in Singur – a town which is less than 40 kms away from Kolkata (Calcutta), where the West Bengal government is struggling to acquire and sell 1000 acres of agricultural land to Tata Motors – indicate the extent to which capitalist-parliamentarianism can regiment a counter-hegemonic force once it agrees to play by the rules. At the least, it clearly shows that the Communist government, which boasts of being the longest-running democratically elected Marxist government in the world, is hopelessly caught in the neoliberal project. And Singur is not an isolated event. In the state of West Bengal alone, the process of state-led land grab and the resultant opposition is already gaining momentum in at least three different locations: (a) in Kharagpur, West Medinipur district, where vast tracts of multi-crop farmland is being taken over for yet another Tata vehicle factory; (b) in Nandigram, East Medinipur district, where a chemical industries hub is proposed to be set up by the Salim group on a 10,000-acre area; and (c) in North Bengal where a Videocon Special Economic Zone (SEZ) is proposed to come up in the near future.

Nor is this story limited to West Bengal. Throughout India, resources are being acquired for Special Economic Zones and numerous other industrial schemes meant to facilitate corporate capital expansion. Since laws permitting this acquisitions were passed an year ago, state governments have notified 267 SEZs, which will require more than a half million hectares of land. Of this, the state has already acquired 137,000 hectares for 67 SEZs while another 80 have `in principle’ been approved.(1)  The Government has converted the erstwhile Export Processing Zones located at Kandla and Surat (Gujarat), Cochin (Kerala), Santa Cruz (Mumbai-Maharashtra), Falta (West Bengal), Madras (Tamil Nadu), Visakhapatnam (Andhra Pradesh) and Noida (Uttar Pradesh) into SEZs. In addition, 3 new Special Economic Zones that had been approved for establishment at Indore (Madhya Pradesh), Manikanchan (Salt Lake, Kolkata) and Jaipur have since commenced operations.

In this backdrop, the West Bengal government’s adamant attitude towards land acquisition, despite the popular unrest, shows that the Indian State and its agencies, irrespective of their ideological masks, are working relentlessly to provide the private sector with “an internationally competitive and hassle free environment”. In this note, we wish to conceptualise this political economic process, identifying its different facets and understanding their interlinkages. It is our contention that using the recently re-interpreted Marxist concept of “primitive accumulation” can provide crucial insights in this regard. We wish to demonstrate that current developments in India can be fruitfully understood by employing the notion of primitive accumulation, understood as a constitutive primitive of capitalism, the process which continuously creates and consolidates the capital-relation. Adopting this new perspective might also help in redefining the agenda of struggles and counter-hegemonic politics in the neoliberal context.

Primitive Accumulation: Two Interpretations

As is well known, Marx had brought up the concept of primitive accumulation to try to understand the historical origins of capitalism. It is generally accepted by economic historians that in pre-capitalist modes of production the primary producers (majority of whom were peasants) had ownership of the means of production, most crucial among them being land. If we agree that capitalism is distinguished from these other modes of production by the relationship of a class of propertyless labourers (who have nothing to sell but their labour power) and a class of propertied capitalists (the owners of the means of production) mediated through the market (2), then the following question naturally arises: how did we arrive at the class of propertyless labourers from a class of producers who had the ownership (or at least the right of usage) of the means of production? It is this historical question that Marx sought to answer with the concept of “primitive accumulation”.

In a sense, the answer is already contained in the question. Primitive accumulation is the process by which the producer is divorced from her/his means of production. Since, moreover, land is the primary means of production in pre-capitalist societies, the main focus of primitive accumulation was to separate peasants from the land. While the gradual penetration of market relations had a role to play in this, outright use of force was far more important, and in a sense the key. Only by evicting peasants from their lands and disrupting their livelihood could the development of markets in free labour and land be ensured; and only this could provide the firm basis for the emergence and consolidation of the capital-relation:

“The capital-relation presupposes a complete separation between the workers and the ownership of the conditions for the realization of their labor. As soon as capitalist production stands on its own feet, it not only maintains this separation, but reproduces it on a constantly extending scale. The process, therefore, which creates the capital-relation, can be nothing other than the process which divorces the worker from the ownership of the conditions of his own labor; it is a process which operates two transformations, whereby the social means of subsistence and production are turned into capital, and the immediate producers are turned into wage-laborers. So-called primitive accumulation, therefore, is nothing else than the historical process of divorcing the producer from the means of production. It appears as ‘primitive’ because it forms the pre-history of capital, and of the mode of production corresponding to capital.”(3)

It is worth recalling that Marx studied the “enclosure movement” in Britain within this overall perspective. One crucial aspect of primitive accumulation should be noted immediately: it effects a redistribution and transfer ofclaims to already existing assets and resources, rather than creating any new assets. In this sense, it is an accumulation of intangible rights and not the accumulation of tangible assets or goods. This aspect of primitive accumulation is important for our purposes because the current frenzy of state-assisted acquisition of land and other resources in India is precisely a process whereby rights of access and usage of already existing resources are being redistributed and transferred.

The last decade has witnessed a resurgence of debate around attempts to re-interpret the concept of primitive accumulation.(4) This debate has indicated that there are two distinct but related interpretations of primitive accumulation, one which stresses the temporal aspect and the other which stresses the constitutive or originary aspect. For the first, more traditional, interpretation the primitiveness of primitive accumulation is understood in a purely temporal sense. Primitive accumulation is seen as the historical phase which created the preconditions for the development of capitalism by forcing the separation of workers and means of production. The second interpretation notes that there is both a temporal and a continuity argument in Marx’s account of primitive accumulation. For this interpretation, therefore, the primitiveness of “primitive accumulation” does not arise simply from its location in historical time, relevant only as the initial stage of capitalism; rather, it is the constitutive primitive of the capitalist system, a process that is essential for perpetuating its fundamental class structure – the separation between producers and means of production.

If primitive accumulation is constitutive, then it must arise as a continuous process within capitalism viewed as a global system. Expanded reproduction of the system requires reproduction of the capital-relation at every moment; separation of workers and means of production must be maintained continuously. In its day-to-day functioning, a mature capitalist economy enforces this separation through the market, i.e., by economic means; but at the boundaries (both internal and external), where capitalism encounters other modes of production, property and social relations attuned to those modes and also to the earlier stages of capitalism, other ways of subsistence, primitive accumulation comes into play. More often than not, direct use of force is necessary to effect the separation at the boundaries. And since capitalism, as a global system, continuously encounters other modes of production along with the simultaneity of diverse stages of capitalism in various localities, the constitutive role of primitive accumulation is always in demand. One can probably go so far as to assert that capital accumulation is the extension of primitive accumulation, enforced through the market. In fact, in Volume 3 of Capital, Marx himself calls the concentration and centralisation of capital, which occur during the course of market-induced capital accumulation, as “simply the divorce of the conditions of labour from the producers [which occurs through primitive accumulation] raised to a higher power”(5).

But this does not mean that the two are identical. In fact two differences are especially important to grasp for the development of our overall argument:

(a) “[W]hile accumulation relies primarily on “the silent compulsion of economic relations [which] sets the seal on the domination of the capitalist over the worker,” in the case of primitive accumulation the separation is imposed primarily through “[d]irect extra-economic force” (Marx 1867: 899-900), such as the state (Marx 1867: 900), particular sections of social classes (Marx 1867: 879), etc. We can say therefore that primitive accumulation for Marx is a social process instigated by some social actor (the state, particular social classes, etc.) aimed at the people who have some form of direct access to the means of production. This social process often takes the form of a strategy that aims to separate them from the means of production.”(6)

(b) “As opposed to accumulation proper, what may be called primitive accumulation… is the historical basis, instead of the historical result, of specifically capitalist production’ (Marx 1867: 775). While sharing the same principle – separation – the two concepts point at two different conditions of existence. The latter implies theex novo production of the separation, while the former implies the reproduction – on a greater scale – of the same separation.”(7)

Keeping these differences are important because one comes to the rescue of the other when market processes falter. Since capital accumulation operates through the market, the services of primitive accumulation are required almost by definition when the market is in crisis. During crucial phases of capitalist crisis, primitive accumulation emerges to help transcend barriers to accumulation in two ways: (a) by facilitating the transition from the critically fated regime to a new regime of accumulation, and (b) by continuously negotiating the spatial expansion (both internal and external) of capitalism. During periods of transition and expansion, “new enclosures” are required for putting the normal course of capitalist reproduction back on track. Securing these enclosures through force and other “direct extra-economic means” is the function of primitive accumulation. This re-definition allows us to grasp the function of the State and its continuous politico-legal activism in every stage of capitalism.

The present neoliberal phase can probably be understood fruitfully from this perspective. Despite the talk of separating the political from the economic, which is a staple rhetoric of the current phase, it is the state as the instrument of politico-legal repression that facilitates neoliberal expansion. Firstly, the state intervenes with all its might to secure control over resources – both natural and human (“new enclosures”) – and secondly, to ensure the non-transgression of the political into the economic, which essentially signifies discounting the politics of labour and the dispossessed from affecting the political economy. David Harvey notes that, “The main substantive achievement of neoliberalization… has been to redistribute, rather than to generate, wealth and income”; the main mechanisms for achieving this is referred to by Harvey as “accumulation by dispossession”, by which he means,

“… the continuation and proliferation of accumulation practices which Marx had treated of as ‘primitive’ or ‘original’ during the rise of capitalism. These include the commodification and privatisation of land and the forceful expulsion of peasant populations…; conversion of various forms of property rights (common, collective, state, etc.) into exclusive private property rights…; suppression of rights to the commons; commodification of labour power and the suppression of alternative (indigenous) forms of production and consumption; colonial, neo-colonial, and imperial processes of appropriation of assets (including natural resources); monetization of exchange and taxation, particularly of land; the slave trade (which continues particularly in the sex industry); and usury, the national debt and, most devastating of all, the use of the credit system as a radical means of accumulation by dispossession. The state, with its monopoly of violence and definitions of legality, plays a crucial role in both backing and promoting these processes.”(8)

Harvey identifies four main features of “accumulation by dispossession”: privatisation, commodification, financialization and the management-manipulation of assets, each feeding on the other, supported by the other and gaining strength from the other.  The neoliberal resurgence since the mid-1970s can be understood as capital’s counter-revolutionary response to the crisis that enwrapped “embedded liberalism” internationally in the late-1960s, with “signs of a serious crisis of capital accumulation…everywhere apparent. Unemployment and inflation were both surging everywhere, ushering in a global phase of ‘stagflation’ that lasted throughout much of the 1970s.”(9)

The Politics of Primitive Accumulation in India

What is going on in India today can be understood by employing the concept of primitive accumulation (as understood in the second interpretation) in almost all of the above senses: separating primary producers from land; privatisation of the “public”, conversion of common property resources into marketable commodities, destroying non-market ways of living, etc. To our mind, each of the instances of “displacement” or state-led “land grab” are willy-nilly feeding into the overall process of primitive accumulation in India by divorcing primary producers from the land or restricting direct access to other common property resources like forest, lakes, river, etc. A question crops up immediately. Being a labour-surplus economy, does India need to generate additional labourers, which is an obvious result of primitive accumulation, before absorbing what is already available? Certainly not, if we think from the perspective of labour. But the answer changes if we see the whole process from the perspective of capital. Fresh entrants into the already burgeoning ranks of the proletariat will increase the relative surplus population – floating, latent and stagnant – depressing real wages and thereby increasing the rates of profits on each unit of invested capital. Moreover, one of the major features of the neoliberal regime of accumulation has been the incessant `informalisation’ of the labour process, and further growth of the relative surplus population makes late-capitalist countries like India finely attuned to this. As Jan Breman notes:

“Mobilization of casual labour, hired and fired according to the needs of the moment, and transported for the duration of the job to destinations far distant from the home village, is characteristic of the capitalist regime presently dominating in South Asia.”(10)

Separation of producers from their means of production and subsistence, especially land and other natural resources, also creates markets for these resources; and thus comes into being the various agencies that thrive through hucksterage in these markets. These intermediaries play the crucial role of facilitating and normalising the process of primitive accumulation. Examples abound: Trinamool Congress goons, grassroots-level CPI(M) leadership, local middle classes like school teachers, lawyers, and other similar forces in the Singur case; state-traders, local elites-supported Salwa Judum in Chhatisgarh.

The major target of land acquisition in India today is in areas where either peasant movements have achieved some partial success in dealing with capitalist exploitation and expropriation or areas largely inhabited by the indigenous population whose expropriation could not be increasingly intensified because of the welfarist tenor of the pre-liberalisation regime. West Bengal is the prime example of the former, where Left Front rule congealed due to its constituents’ involvement in the popular movements. Now, the movements’ institutionalisation and incorporation of the leadership into the state apparatus is facilitating the present-day resurgence of primitive accumulation. Examples of the second kind of area could be parts of Chhatisgrah, Orissa, Andhra Pradesh or Madhya Pradesh, which the corporate sector is eyeing for mining activities and for setting up steel plants.

As an instructive example, if nothing else, let us see how displacement in Singur will affect the various class forces on the ground. While the state apparatuses are trying to secure resources for corporate capital, sections of the local elite, including the well-off farmers led by the mainstream non-left political parties – like the Congress and Trinamool (TMC) – have joined the movement against land acquisition essentially to obtain various kinds of concessions, a higher price for giving up the land to the State and perhaps also for increasing the land price for their future real estate speculation around the upcoming industrial belt. For example, “a TMC leader and ex-pradhan of one of the gram panchayats was initially with the movement, but finally gave away his land. Many of the landed gentry, some of them absentee, who own bigger portions of land, depend on ‘kishans’ (i e, hired labours, bargadars, etc) for cultivation of their lands. They principally depend on business or service and have come forward to part with their land in lieu of cash.”(11) In case the government talks to the protesters and gives larger concessions, it is these sections that will benefit the most.

The people who are really the backbone of the movement in Singur are the landless working class and poor peasantry. According to a recent report, “many agricultural workers and marginal peasants will lose their land and livelihoods. Though the State Government has decided to compensate the landowners, no policy has been taken for the landless agricultural workers, unrecorded bargadars and other rural households who are indirectly dependent for their livelihood on land and agricultural activities.”(12) The region is also inhabited by the poor who “frequent the nearby town, being employed in factories, shops and small businesses. Some of the youth have migrated to cities like Mumbai, Delhi and Bangalore, working there principally as goldsmiths or construction workers. There were several cases of reverse migration when people came back to their village after the closing down of the industries where they were working or finding it more profitable to work on the land than to work in petty industries or businesses, drawing a paltry sum in lieu of hard labour.”(13) For this population as also for the landless workers and marginal peasants, the Singur struggles are existential ones.

As an example of the second kind of land acquisition, we can turn our attention to Chhatisgarh. A report on recent developments in Chhatisgarh notes that, in India,

“[t]ribal lands are the most sought after resources now. Whether it is in Orissa or Chhattisgarh or Andhra Pradesh, if there is a patch of tribal land there is an attempt to acquire it. It is no geographical coincidence that tribal lands are forested, rich with mineral resources (80 per cent of India’s minerals and 70 per cent of forests are within tribal areas) and also the site of a sizeable slice of industrial growth. The tribal districts of Chhattisgarh, Orissa, Jharkhand, Karnataka and Maharashtra are the destination of us $85 billion of promised investments, mostly in steel and iron plants, and mining projects. Ironically, these lucrative resources are of no benefit to the local people: an estimate of 10 Naxal-affected states shows that they contribute 51.6 per cent of India’s GDP and have 58 per cent of the population. As with Chhatisgarh, all these states have a strong Naxal presence and are witness to movements against land acquisition. The state governments say these protests are Naxal-inspired. Local people say, however, that all they are trying to do is protect their land, forests and livelihood.”(14)

Here the State’s mode of facilitating primitive accumulation is by raising mercenaries, the Salwa Judum. This extra-legal use of force is supported by the traditional exploiters of the indigenous population – traders, usurers, civil servants and tribal neo-elites, who have functioned as intermediaries in the regime of commerce-based surplus extraction. On the one hand, absence of any recognised land rights of tribal communities, has allowed the State to use principles of terra nullius and eminent domain to expropriate them. On the other, these communities have continued to exist in defiance of all these legalities. However, with the recent intensification of efforts to secure resources for corporate profiteering, along with the continued presence of primitive extractive modes of exploitation, these communities have been left with no real choices but to arm themselves for securing their unrecognised rights. Hence,

“Most tribal people living in forests are officially ‘encroachers’. They live under the constant threat of being alienated from their land and livelihood. While the government completely failed to reach out to them, the Naxals succeeded in connecting to sections of the people. They spread to the state’s 11 districts (200 districts in the country). Unable to contain them, government supported the creation of a civilian militia – Salwa Judum”.(15)

Besides these widely discussed cases of recent land acquisition and displacement, there have been numerous conflicts around the rights over water resources over the years. In almost all such cases, the state has come forth as being hell bent upon the construction of big dams and other hydroelectric projects despite all evidence of the net negative marginal costs of these projects. During the past two decades, Narmada Bachao Andolan has been a prominent force constantly exposing the anti-people, anti-environment character of these projects. Even in the Himalayan region of Uttaranchal (site of the legendary Chipko Andolan), riverbeds and surrounding lands have been ‘enclosed’ for private capital to be used for power generation and lucrative tourism projects. In fact, recent politics in this region cannot be fully understood without understanding the conflicts around these enclosures. Closer to urban India has been the neoliberal systematisation of commercial and financial centres, the `clearing’ of slums, in cities like Delhi and Mumbai, which have naturally been the hotbed of the politics of and against “new enclosures”.

Understanding all these diverse processes in the framework of primitive accumulation has several strategic implications. Perhaps, most urgently, this can provide a unified framework to locate the numerous struggles going on in the country right from the `new’ social movements, like landless workers movements, Narmada Bachao Andolan and other local mobilisations of ‘development-victims’, to anti-privatisation movements of public sector workers, all the way to the revolutionary movements led by the Maoists. This unified framework can then possibly facilitate dialogue among these movements, something that is more than essential at this juncture if the movement of labour against capital is to be strengthened.

A Future Beyond Capital

Using this framework will also mean re-evaluating many of the theoretical positions that are currently in use. For example, it will be necessary to rethink the classical communist position that characterises the Indian state as semi-feudal and semi-colonial, and thereby sees the struggle of the peasantry as being directed primarily against feudal oppression. It is possible that the inherent limitations of this ideological framework disallow revolutionaries and other radicals to formulate effective strategies against the whole system, a system that preserves various vestigial forms to facilitate accumulation but is not defined by them. Thus, movements struggling against different forms of these vestiges are easily localised, regionalised, marginalized, dispersed, and even utilised in the intra-ruling class competition and conflicts. The state of the official Indian left is illustrative in this regard. It, too, stresses on the presence of “vestiges” and the insufficiency of development, but then turns around and justifies its accommodation in the neoliberal capitalist project as a fight against these vestiges!

Despite the apparent popularity of the new movements of Latin America among the official Left in India, their attachment to a schematic notion of national capitalist development retains all its strength. The devastating consequence, of course, is the deferral of the revolutionary moment till that development is attained; in reality, this amounts to postponing the revolutionary moment beyond the horizon of all concrete possibilities. Surely, this is not simply an ideological problem coming from a faulty understanding of the dynamics of capitalism or socialism. It is a consequence of the official left leadership’s accommodation in the capitalist-parliamentary framework, an accommodation moreover that forces them to participate in the competitive race for representation. In the pursuit of presenting itself as the legitimate representative of the “plurality of opinions”, which parliamentary politics poses against the notion of class struggle, the left reproduces this plurality within itself, along with its built-in hierarchy. With partial successes in this exercise, representatives of the opinions that count, i.e., the hegemonic class interests, solidify themselves within the party structures. And it is this congealment within the Left Front in West Bengal that leads the “communists” to vocalise neoliberal myths of neutral industrial development, dubbing every protest against its policies as anti-developmental, backward and manipulative. Parallels with the neoliberal demonisation of the transgression of the political into the economic can hardly be missed. Echoing well-heeled mandarins in Delhi, the Left Front government regularly uses the classic threat of capital flight to regiment all protesting voices.

Without comprehending the function of vestiges of earlier modes of production within capitalism or the role of earlier stages of the capitalist mode of production in sustaining capital accumulation, any fundamental challenge to the hegemonic forces in a late capitalist society like India cannot be formulated. It can hardly be denied that, “we suffer not only from the development of capitalist production, but also the incompleteness of that development. Alongside the modern evils, we are oppressed by a whole series of inherited evils, arising from the passive survival of archaic and outmoded modes of production, with their accompanying train of anachronistic social and political relations. We suffer not only from the living, but from the dead. Le mort saisit le vif [The dead man clutches onto the living]!”(16)

We will have to recognise the fact that during the stage of imperialism, and more so in the present postcolonial situation, “a high level of capitalist development no longer require[s] the elimination of the traditional class of ‘small producers'” and other pre-capitalist ‘remnants’.(17) Even in a country like Japan, “in which capitalist society developed only at the so-called finance-capitalist stage of world capitalism, a high level of capitalist development has not been incompatible… with the survival of the traditional class of ‘small producers’.”(18)

Indian capitalism, like Japanese, came into being in the stage of imperialism, when finance capital and inter-imperialist rivalries were already subjugating the whole world. Moreover, development under direct colonialism foisted some unique features on to the general characteristics of “late capitalism”. During the colonial period, “self”-expansion of Indian capital beyond the physical horizons of India was implausible because this would have required an Indian State committed to these interests. Colonialism ruled this out almost axiomatically. However, there were other channels available. The simultaneous existence of various socio-economic formations at diverse levels of Indian society allowed some possibility of ‘internal’ colonialism and “enclosures”, thus, providing the basis for capitalist expansion. Even after Independence, Indian capital relies heavily on the ‘diversity’ (or unevenness) of Indian economy and society for primitive accumulation and expansion. Additionally, ‘semi-feudal’ conditions at various locations within the country provide a vast reserve army of labour. The important characteristic of this insecure and docile population is that they can be pulled out of their original locations and thrown into the growing labour market without disturbing the essential fabric of society. In other words, pre-capitalist forms of exploitation provide vast and near permanent pools of cheap labour, which competes with the urban proletariat, thereby bringing the latter under political and economic control. Moreover, this seems (19) to resolve the “agrarian problem” of Indian capitalism, by ‘externalising’ rural and underdeveloped India from the “core” industrial islands. Concentrating capitalist agricultural development in particular locations of India (for example in West and North-west India), Indian capitalism could afford to under-develop other locations so that they could serve as “external markets” and as reserves of “footloose labour”.

Because unevenness is the essential feature of capitalist development, any mode of regulation, including neoliberal globalisation, has to negotiate with diverse stages of societal development. Hence local reactions against this new wave of capitalist consolidation and accumulation are bound to be diverse. The revolutionary vision consists in coordinating these diverse forces for building a formidable challenge to capitalism. Even the struggles against vestigial forms, if they have to be decisive, need to be recognised as contesting capitalist relations that sustain them and are articulated through them. In the Indian context, they are all struggles against a stuttering capitalism, against the inherent brutalities of primitive accumulation. We will have to realize that the movements are not about “saving” tribals/indigenous populations or their way of lives; the movement is a movement of labour against capital. Tribals, poor peasants, marginal peasants, landless labourers, informal sector workers, all these sub-classes are fighting against the tyranny of capital, against being fed – with their labour and resources – into the capitalist machinery. Obviously, in this fight against capital, we cannot cling on to any nostalgia for a pristine past, rather our vision must be directed towards the future, a future built on the transcendence of capital, a socialist future rooted in a participatory economy and polity. Only then can the vast majority suffering in the margins of capitalism and toiling under vestigial relations, can make a concerted, decisive effort to end the tyranny of capital.

 

Notes & References

(1) Prem Shankar Jha, “Compensation not enough”, Daily News & Analysis (October 2, 2006),http://www.dnaindia.com/report.asp?NewsID=1056324&CatID=19

(2) Marx refers to this as the capital-relation.

(3) Karl Marx, Capital Vol. 1, Penguin Books (1976 [1867]), pp. 874-75

(4) See the contributions in The Commoner No 2. (September, 2001), http://www.commoner.org.uk/

(5) Karl Marx, Capital Vol. 3, Penguin Books (1981 [1894]), pp. 354

(6) Massimo De Angelis, “Marx and primitive accumulation: The continuous character of capital’s “enclosures”,The Commoner No 2 (September, 2001)

(7) Ibid. (Note: ex novo is used in the sense of `original’ or `from the scratch’).

(8) David Harvey, A Brief History of Neoliberalism, Oxford (2005), pp. 159

(9) Ibid, pp. 12

(10) Jan Breman, Footloose Labour: Working in India’s Informal Economy, Cambridge University Press (1996), pp. 23

(11) Parthasarthi Banerjee, “Land Acquisition and Peasant Resistance at Singur”, Economic & Political Weekly(November 18, 2006)

(12) Paschim Banga Khet Majoor Samity, “Terror Cannot Suppress Them: People’s Resistance to Forced Land Acquisition In Singur”, (December 6, 2006)

(13) Parthasarthi Banerjee, op cit

(14) “Anti-Naxal operations a cover for exploiting tribal people”, Down to Earth Vol 15 No 11 (October 18, 2006)

(15) Ibid.

(16) Karl Marx, “Preface to the First Edition”, Capital Vol 1, Penguin (1976 [1867]), pp.91

(17) Kozo Uno, Principles of Political Economy, Harvester Press (1980 [1964]), p.xxvii.

(18) Ibid, pp. 125

(19) Japanese Marxist Kozo Uno stressed that capitalism is incapable of solving the agrarian question. “We can say that it became clear on a world scale that the ability to solve the agrarian question would entail the ability to construct a new society to replace capitalism, and we may regard the League of Nations as having been one such attempt. The solution to this problem, of course, means no more than the external expression of the internal contradictions of capitalism, and cannot occur unless the issue of class relations is solved. In this sense, the failure of the League of Nations was only to be expected.” (Quoted in Andrew E Barshay, The Social Sciences in Modern Japan: The Marxian and Modernist Traditions, University of California Press (2004), pp.128)

Long on Rhetoric, Short on Argument

DeLong on “Adam’s Fallacy”

Dipankar Basu

Imagine for a moment that you are a student of mathematics; imagine further that you have just proved an important and non-trivial theorem. Having established the theorem, you then try to illustrate the result through several examples. This is not very uncommon in mathematics, as anybody working in that discipline will tell you. Now imagine someone reading through your work and discovering some mistake in one of your examples. Having made this brilliant discovery, this person then proceeds to pompously announce to the world that your theorem is false! That, in a nutshell, is my impression of macro-economist, economic historian and commentator J. Bradford DeLong’s comments on Duncan Foley’s recent book “Adam’s Fallacy: A Guide to Economic Theology”.(1) As it turns out, even that impression is only half correct; the example, in this case, seems to have no mistakes and certainly not the mistakes that DeLong makes his case on. As I will argue below, most of DeLong’s criticism of the example are baseless; some of them rest on misreadings, and some on what I call “imputation”; some of his claims are supported by quoting passages out of context or quoting them only partially.

What is Adam’s Fallacy?

To put DeLong’s comments in proper perspective it is necessary to first briefly talk about the main argument in Foley’s book. “Adam’s Fallacy” is at the same time an extremely erudite exposition of classical political economy and a sustained critical engagement with it. The book is organized around the notion of “Adam’s Fallacy” (hence the title of the book), a fallacy situated at the very foundation of political economy, a fallacy moreover that has been carried over right through to the present times. Foley’s narrative masterfully depicts the play of this fallacy in the works of all the great (political) economists of the last two centuries.

So what is Adam’s Fallacy? It is the claim, according to Foley, that the pursuit of self-interest, which is morally problematic in most human interactions, is unambiguously socially beneficial in the context of competitive market interactions.(2) This claim, which consolidated itself in the writings of Adam Smith, has been passed down from generation to generation in various forms and various guises, and has been accepted and used, according to Foley, by economists of virtually all political persuasions.

But why is this claim a fallacy? It is a fallacy in three senses. First, it is a logical fallacy because neither Adam Smith nor any of his followers who use this claim – often implicitly – have ever managed to prove it rigorously and robustly; at best it remains an unproved assertion. Second, it is a moral fallacy because it “urges us to accept direct and concrete evil in order that indirect and abstract good may come of it”. Third, it is a psychological fallacy because it leads us to deny the iniquitous manner in which costs and benefits are distributed in society under capitalism.

Having laid out the fallacy in the first few pages of the book, Foley then goes on to illustrate how it is active in the thoughts of almost all the great figures in the history of political economy. Discussing the work of each of these great thinkers, right from Adam Smith to John Maynard Keynes, Foley gives several examples to show Adam’s Fallacy in operation. For instance, while discussing Adam Smith’s “Wealth of Nations”, Foley refers to the use of Say’s Law in the context of technological unemployment as an example of Adam’s Fallacy in operation. While discussing Malthus and Ricardo, Foley shows how their attitude towards poverty is an example of Adam’s Fallacy in action. While discussing Marx’s critical political economy, Foley indicates how Adam’s Fallacy seduces even this “severest” critic of capitalism.  One could mention the other thinkers too that Foley discusses, but I think this much will suffice for the purposes of this article.

It is interesting to note, first of all, that DeLong has nothing to say about the general arguments establishing Adam’s Fallacy, arguments which are devastating in their simplicity. Neither has DeLong anything to say about the masterful treatment of all the great issues of political economy and the demonstration of their continuing relevance today. Instead of looking at the “proof” of the “theorem”, DeLong focuses his attention on one particular example in the discussion about one of the many thinkers that Foley talks about. This particular example of the operation of Adam’s Fallacy, the cause of evident discomfiture in DeLong, is about technological unemployment. So let me briefly summarize the issues involved in this example before taking up DeLong’s wayward comments on it.

The Example of Technological Unemployment

Adam Smith’s vision of the virtuous spiral of economic development rests on highlighting the link between the division of labour, labour productivity and the extent of the market; this link, when and where it can take hold, operates as a positive feedback loop (to use Foley’s terminology). Widening extent of the market (i.e., growth in effective demand) supports an increasing division of labour, which increases the productivity of labour, leading to falling prices and rising real incomes. Growth in real income increases the extent of the market in turn, completing the virtuous spiral. This story of economic growth fueled by technological change (merely another name for the increasing division of labour) has, according to Foley, one blind spot: unemployment created by rapid productivity growth. And talking about this blind spot is what draws DeLong’s misconceived ire.

DeLong’s Claims About the Example

DeLong makes his argument in the form of six “follies” of Foley that he claims to have discovered in this example. Let me mention them as DeLong states them before taking up each in greater detail.

(F1): “Foley’s Folly #1: The assertion that the costs of higher labor productivity are “direct, concrete” while the benefits of higher labor productivity are “indirect, abstract.” Lower prices that give consumers higher real incomes are exactly as concrete and as direct as are income losses from unemployment.”

(F2): “Foley’s Folly #2: The claim that technological unemployment is the rule…”

(F3): “Foley’s Folly #3: “The assertion that a belief in the theoretical truth of Say’s Law–in the efficiency of financial markets–is necessary to support the claim that the market system is for the general good”.

(F4): “Foley’s Folly #4: Duncan Foley’s calling a belief in efficient financial institutions “Adam [Smith]’s Fallacy in action.”

(F5): “Foley’s Folly #5: It turns out that Duncan Foley doesn’t believe that technological unemployment is the rule.”

(F6): “Foley’s Folly #6. I don’t think I understand high Western European unemployment. But I do not think that the first-order cause of high Western European unemployment was rapid labor productivity growth.”

Rebuttal of DeLong’s Claims

If you have not already noticed it then let me point this out: look once again at F2 and compare it to F5; they are diametrically opposed claims! DeLong would have us believe that within a few pages, Foley has reversed his position on technological unemployment dramatically, claiming first that it is the rule and then claiming that it is not. Faced with this rather strong claim by DeLong I started looking for the passage in the book where Foley asserts that “technological unemployment is the rule”; I am still searching. Probably DeLong would be so kind as to point to this passage that Foley seems to have forgotten to insert in his book. I will take up the issue of “technological unemployment” later, but here it is important to notice the trick that DeLong has used in the course of his argumentation: impute to your opponent something that (s)he hasn’t stated and then in a flourish of glory make the discovery that (s)he has in fact stated exactly the opposite. This way one can “generate” numerous “contradictions” in the text under scrutiny!

F3 and F4 are really not worth spending much time on; they are silly misreadings or intentional misleadings. Foley does not claim, as mentioned in F3, that “a belief in the theoretical truth of Say’s Law–in the efficiency of financial markets-is necessary to support the claim that the market system is for the general good”; it might very well not be necessary. But when push comes to shove, pro-market arguments almost always take the support of some version of Say’s Law (the claim that supply creates its own demand); that is all Foley claims. Examples abound: benefits of free trade, technological progress, privatization policies, so-called development policies like building dams and highways by displacing people without proper compensation, etc.

F4 is even more surprising because Foley refers to the whole argument about technological unemployment as an example of Adam’s Fallacy in action and not to a belief in efficient financial institutions (page 11), as F4 claims. Foley points out that proponents of Say’s Law (who argue that technological unemployment is impossible) seem to implicitly assume the existence of efficient financial institutions; but that is only one, even though crucial, piece of the argument. That by itself is not Adam’s Fallacy in action.

In F6, DeLong tries to convey the impression that talking about European unemployment and technical change in the same breath is outrageous. Here he seems to merely display his ignorance about a large and growing literature on “skill-biased technical change” as a cause of unemployment and inequality. This literature (both theoretical and empirical) attempts to explain, at the same time, unemployment in Europe and increasing wage inequality in the US as the result of skill-biased technological change in different institutional contexts of social support mechanisms.(3) One might very well disagree with the conclusions of this literature; but to behave as if linking European unemployment to technical change is outlandish is to willfully deny the existence of this literature altogether.

In F1, DeLong displays his predilection for playing on words. He objects to Foley’s claim that the costs of productivity growth are “direct and concrete” while the benefits are “indirect and abstract”. He feels, instead that “Lower prices that give consumers higher real incomes are exactly as concrete and as direct as are income losses from unemployment”. Instead of playing on words like “direct” and “indirect”, I think we can understand Foley’s claim in a very simple manner: costs of capitalist development are largely borne by a group which does not enjoy the lion’s share of the benefits of that development. That, in my opinion, is the sense in which Foley juxtaposes the directness of costs with the indirectness of benefits. Here is what Foley has to say on this matter: “The immediate effect of increases in labour productivity is to impose costs (unemployment) on a group (workers) who are in a weak position to protect themselves from these costs” (page 11). That this has always happened and is still happening is no great mystery for anyone who cares to so much as glance at the periphery of the capitalist world.

Technological Unemployment Once Again

This, of course, brings me to the main claim that DeLong wants so desperately to defend: technological unemployment is impossible. There are three apparently plausible arguments that DeLong makes in his rather rude piece. One, he points to some historical examples where productivity growth has been accompanied by rising rather than falling demand for labour. These examples do not constitute an argument against thepossibility of technological unemployment for two reasons. First, they are mere examples (as DeLong also realizes), and one can come up with other examples where the opposite has happened. An immediate example is the case of India after the onset of the so-called liberalization of the economy, starting from the mid-1980s: increasing productivity has been accompanied by the falling growth elasticity of demand for labour. For every unit increase in the growth rate of GDP, the percentage increase in the demand for labour has fallen.(4) Second, there have been other factors, like government policies, that have been important in shoring up the demand for labour during periods of rapid productivity growth. For instance, in the case of the “steam-machinery-cotton complex in Manchester at the start of the industrial revolution”, the accumulation of capital in England rested on the policy-driven destruction of artisanal production in India, high tariffs for cotton products coming into England and a safe, protected market for Manchester’s products in India under the stern gaze of the colonial government. So, in this particular case at least, it seems that a steady, sure and growing market was what contributed to the rising demand for labour and dampened the possible effects of technological unemployment.

And this brings us to DeLong’s second point: if the (income) elasticity of demand (5) is high then demand for labour might increase along with rising productivity, states DeLong. There is hardly any reason to deny that. But the question remains: what if the elasticity of demand is low? If DeLong wants us to believe that he has made a novel point, he is mistaken. For Foley already takes account of this possibility when he states that if market demand can proceed at a faster pace than productivity growth, labour demand might grow. The point is that there is no necessity that this will always happen. Either DeLong has to establish theoretically that the income elasticity of demand for products of industries under going rapid productivity growth will always be high, or one will have to establish the facts empirically in each case. Foley merely seems to advocate a cautionary approach as opposed to baseless optimism of market enthusiasts.

The third point that DeLong makes in this context is to point to an apparent contradiction in Foley’s stance on Say’s Law as it plays out in the argument on “technological unemployment”. Between F2 and F5, DeLong would have us believe, Foley changes his position on “technological unemployment” completely. Here is what DeLong writes:

“Still worse, in my view, is Foley’s Folly #5: It turns out that Duncan Foley doesn’t believe that technological unemployment is the rule. Immediately after this song-and-dance about the “direct, concrete” costs that labor productivity growth generates via increased unemployment, costs that “ordinary moral reasoning would regard… as a bad thing,” Foley writes:

Over long periods of time… something like Say’s Law does operate… there is no long-term drift towards constantly increasing unemployment as a result of technological change…

Unless Foley wants to maintain–which I don’t think he does–that in the absence of technological progress we would have steadily falling unemployment, what he is saying here is that unemployment is not higher as a result of technological progress. There is no cost to charge against the benefit of higher productivity. Technological unemployment is a non-issue. And I cannot understand why Foley raises it–let alone introduces technological unemployment as his first example in his book of the “real costs of capitalist development” about which Adam Smith is in “wholesale denial.”

This is an example of misreading supported by partial quotations from the text. Foley adopts a more nuanced stance towards Say’s Law than DeLong can give him credit for. He agrees that something akin to Say’s Law seems to be in operation in the long run but stresses that it is a folly to argue for its presence in the short-run. And it is precisely in this distinction that the costs of “technological unemployment” resides. I can do no better than to let Foley speak:

Say’s Law comes up again and again in the story, and it will help to keep two points in mind. Over longer periods of time, it appears that something like Say’s Law does operate: at least there is no long-term drift toward constantly increasing unemployment as a result of technological change and rising labor productivity. On the other hand, over shorter periods, the absorption of technologically unemployed workers into new jobs can be quite slow, creating real social, economic and political problems…one important issue about Say’s Law is what time scale we are looking at…”

The important issue is the time scale of the analysis. Admitting that there is no upward drift in the unemployment time series is not the same as admitting that “there is no cost to charge against the benefit of higher productivity” (as DeLong claims) because the costs operate in the short run, and the costs are imposed on those who are hardly ever able to partake of the benefits of that technological progress even in the long run to the degree that they had to bear the costs.

The deeper problem with DeLong’s arguments is that he seems blind to some simple facts that were pointed out a few years ago by Baumol and Wolff (1998).(6) In periods of rapid technological growth, demand for new skills grow while demand for several classes of existing skills diminish. So, even when productivity growth leads to an overall increase in the demand for labour (the best possible scenario for DeLong), rising unemployment can be observed for several reasons. First, firms will, on average, need to shut down for longer periods for retooling; this will lead to increases in layoffs as well as increases in the average duration of unemployment spells. Second, firms will decrease hiring workers with some kinds of skills and increase their employment of workers with other kinds of skills. This will also lead to some layoffs. Third, firms will not re-train those workers for the newly required skills for whom the costs of training are the highest, the older workers and the younger, less-educated workers. Hence, workers who face the greatest difficulties in making themselves suitable for the new situation might gradually slide into the pool of long-term unemployed. Moreover, these effects will be in operation over all the phases of the business cycle. In their study, Baumol and Wolff (1998) find that the average duration of unemployment spells have doubled since the 1940s. And all the problems associated with joblessness – suicide, illness, divorce, broken families and destroyed childhoods, criminal activity, substance abuse – increase with the duration of joblessness.

As far as I can understand, Foley has nowhere asserted that technological unemployment is the rule; he has merely called our attention to its very real possibility. Denying this possibility a priori, which is the substance of DeLong’s argument, is to precisely commit Adam’s Fallacy all over again. Therefore, DeLong, by arguing against the possibilities of technological unemployment, has most spectacularly vindicated Foley’s claim that Adam’s Fallacy is very much alive and kicking in the economics profession in the twenty-first century.

The argument against DeLong’s evasion is actually very similar to what we have already encountered: the costs of technological progress are disproportionately borne by those who never share in the major part of that benefit. To my mind, Adam’s Fallacy, in most cases, boils down to the following: failure to recognize the fact that the institutions of capitalism make it impossible for the costs and benefits of technological progress and economic development to be shared equitably among the members of society. Private property and markets – the defining institutions of capitalism – can only distribute these costs and benefits inequitably, and that is precisely what Adam’s Fallacy tries to blind us to.

Notes:

(1) This can be accessed at: http://DeLong.typepad.com/sdj/2006/09/the_childish_ba.html

(2) There is another, deeper sense in which Foley uses this term: the fallacious idea that there is a separate economic sphere of life governed by its specific laws.

(3) Weiss, Matthias and Garloff, Alfred, “Skill Biased Technological Change and Endogenous Benefits: The Dynamics of Unemployment and Wage Inequality” (2005). ZEW Discussion Paper No. 05-79. Available at SSRN: http://ssrn.com/abstract=862064

(4) Bhattacharya, B. B., and S. Sakthivel, “Economic Reforms and Jobless Growth in India in the 1990s”, Working Paper, Institute of Economic Growth, New Delhi, India. Available at: (http://ieg.nic.in/worksakthi245.pdf)

(5) The income elasticity of demand measures the responsiveness of demand to changes in income; formally, it is defined as the ratio of the percentage change in demand to the percentage change of income. Economists also work with other elasticities, like the price elasticity of demand or the cross-elasticity of demand, which are defined in a similar manner.

(6) Baumol, Willim J., and Edward N. Wolff, “Side Effects of Progress: How Technological Change Increases the Duration of Unemployment” (1998). Public Policy Brief No. 41, The Jerome Levy Economics Institute of the Bard College.

How not to understand the Labour Theory of Value

Solow on “Adam’s Fallacy”

Dipankar Basu

Soon after its publication by the Harvard University Press (1), well-known economist and Nobel laureate Robert Solow reviewed “Adam’s Fallacy” for the New York Review of Books (“How to Understand the Economy”, Robert M. Solow, Nov. 16, 2006). It is difficult to read through the review and escape the conclusion that Solow’s main purpose was to write a tirade against the labour theory of value rather than to review the book by Foley. For instance, Solow never even attempts to indicate, let alone summarize, the main argument of the book; if all one did was to read the review by Solow, the reader would have to come away without even knowing what it is that Foley refers to as “Adam’s fallacy”. This is strange because Foley introduces the reader to what he means by this important phrase right in the preface, even before the main text of the book begins.

Adam’s fallacy, according to Foley, “lies in the idea that it is possible to separate an economic sphere of life, in which the pursuit of self-interest is guided by objective laws to a socially beneficent outcome, from the rest of social life, in which the pursuit of self-interest is morally problematic and has to be weighed against other ends.”(2) In other words, Foley is arguing against dualism in economic theory, against the attempt to separate normative from positive economics, against the ill-conceived attempt to construct a “scientific” discipline by purging value judgments and ethical considerations from its precincts. Solow does not refer to this argument even once in the whole review!

Solow’s oversight, if at all it is an oversight, is all the more surprising in light of mainstream economics’ recent acceptance of the necessity of bringing in ethical issues back into economic theory. For instance, the presidential address at the 2007 American Economic Association (AEA) meeting by Nobel laureate George Akerlof made a forceful case for the inclusion of value judgements in macroeconomics. His paper, “The Missing Motivation in Macroeceonomics” shows why inclusion of norms – should questions – is important, why inclusion of such norms makes the Keynesian story consistent with optimizing behaviour and why the celebrated neutralities of recent macroeconomic thinking is thereby invalidated.(3)

Though this is a much more restricted vision than Foley’s, nonetheless it seems to be in line with his conclusion “from surveying the high peaks of political economy” that dualisms in political economy – normative vs. positive economics, value-free scientific analysis vs. value-laden policy analysis – are useless, if not misleading. The great political economists never pretended that such a separation exists in reality or even adopted it as a useful analytical tool. “The attitudes promulgated by the great political economists toward capitalism and its social logic cannot plausibly be separated from their analysis of its workings.”(4)

Having read the book, one is therefore forced to conclude that Solow’s main motivation in writing the review was to repeat some well-known criticisms of the labour theory of value and not to discuss the implications of “Adam’s fallacy”; most of these criticisms, as we will see, do not hold under scrutiny. It is of course not the case that Solow, or mainstream economists more generally, are alone in criticizing the labour theory of value. Several radical political economists have pointed out the inadequacies of the labour theory of value and have instead adopted alternative perspectives to understand the current world around us; some of these alternative perspectives have been informed by recent developments in economics, sociology, and political science.(5) One can, therefore, have problems with the labour theory of value without agreeing at all with Solow. But what, after all, is Solow’s criticism of the labour theory of value?

Solow criticizes the labour theory of value because it is concerned about “values” whereas real life, according to him, is about ordinary, observable, market prices. This oft-repeated criticism is the result of serious misunderstandings about the role of unobservables in theory.(6) For instance, neoclassical economics also posits unobservables – consumer preferences or utility functions – to explain observable phenomenon like prices of commodities. Would Solow be willing to criticize neoclassical economics solely because it concerns itself with unobservable “utility” maximization whereas real life is about observable market prices? If not, then Marxian political economy cannot be criticized for positing a different unobservable: value. The real question is whether positing this or that unobservable within a theoretical edifice can better help in understanding the observable world.

But here we must immediately confront a related question: which aspects of the observable world do we want to understand? Different theories, to my mind, are differentially suited to explain different aspects of the same observable world. This is important because it relates to Solow’s second criticism of the labour theory of value. He repeatedly complains that the labour theory of value is not about the economics of everyday life, that it is rather about supporting a particular attitude towards capitalism. Perhaps Solow does not realize, but this does not amount to any criticism at all. Why? Because aspects of daily life which are important for Solow and which, he thinks, need explaining, are probably not the ones that the labour theory of value attempts to explain in the first place.

For Solow, the price of a bottle of beer is very important; he feels that economic theory should explain the how and why of this price. Fair enough. But what about other aspects of this same observable world in which the bottle of beer is bought and sold? What about the workers who work in the factories that made the beer? And the capitalists who own those factories and all the rest of society’s productive resources? Is their behaviour, their conditions of work, the conflict of interest between the workers and the owners of the factories not aspects of the same reality? The determination of wages, the allocation of different kinds of labour and capital between industries, the fluctuations of the rate of profit, the difference between productive and unproductive labour, the biased nature of technological change: are these not important aspects of everyday life under capitalism? Do they not need explaining? And if a theory is primarily concerned about explaining such aspects of everyday life, then why should it be criticized for not explaining the fluctuations in the price of alcohol?

It must be recalled that Robert Solow is himself an eminent economist within the mainstream. He, along with his colleague Paul Samuelson, was largely instrumental in establishing the so-called Keynesian synthesis, the orthodoxy in post-war macroeconomics. He is of course better known for his work on neoclassical growth theory (that earned him the Nobel in 1987), which attempts to explain differences in rates of (economic) growth of nations on the basis of differences in the growth of the capital stock, technological change and population growth. Suppose we criticized this theory for not explaining the pattern of international trade among nations? Suppose we criticized this theory for not explaining the fluctuations of real exchange rates in different time periods? That would certainly be considered unfair criticism, and rightly so. In an exactly similar manner Solow’s criticism of the labour theory of value is unfair.

In any case, if Solow had read through Foley’s previous work on the labour theory of value (7), he would have realized that it was a theory about aggregates, a macro and not a micro theory in today’s jargon. It does not attempt to explain the fluctuations of individual prices, but instead attempts to explain how capitalism as a system rests on the exploitation of one class by another, the appropriation of the surplus labour of one class by another. This, it must be admitted, is a common misunderstanding which is shared not only by mainstream economists like Solow and Samuelson but also by several radical political economists, including Marxists. Trying to understand the labour theory as a theory of the determination of individual prices naturally leads to the so-called transformation problem, and Solow does not pass the opportunity to mention it. If he had even glanced through the burgeoning literature on the labour theory of value (8), he would also have come to know that the transformation problem has been “solved” quite some time ago; the solution, proposed independently by Duncan Foley and Gerard Dumenil (9), is neither “mystification” nor “bad algebra”.

Of course Solow is partially correct in pointing out that “the labor theory of value paints a picture of capitalism in fundamentally moral terms”. Foley would probably say that that is exactly what should be done; it is only by consciously emphasizing the ethical aspects of social life that economic theory can deal with its sterility. But Solow is only partially correct because the labour theory of value also has an analytical aspect which attempts to describe and explain how the various institutions of capitalism are primarily about the creation, appropriation and distribution of surplus value; in that sense, the labour theory tries to undergird its ethical stance with concrete historical analysis.

Notes:

(1) Duncan K. Foley, Adam’s Fallacy: A Guide to Economic Theology, The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts, 2006. Hardcover, 265+xviii pp.

(2) Ibid. (p. xiii)

(3) It is not the case that Akerlof’s paper was presented to the larger public for the first time at the 2007 AEA meeting in Chicago in January; it had been in the public domain for more than a year (the current version that I could find on the web was completed in October 2, 2005) and the author had presented it at various conferences, seminars and talks before the AEA meeting.

(4) Foley, op cit (p. 215)

(5) Among them would be the Analytical Marxists like John Roemer, Jon Elster, Adam Przeworski, and radical political economists like Robin Hahnel and Michael Albert.

(6) Even Joan Robinson, undoubtedly a profound thinker, could not resist the temptation of leveling this charge against Marxism. Most often, this criticism follows from an overly empiricist philosophical leaning.

(7) Duncan K Foley, Understanding Capital: Marx’s Economic Theory, Harvard University Press. 1986.

(8) A nice starting point could be: Duncan K. Foley, “Recent developments in the labor theory of value”,Review of Radical Political Economics, 32(1): 1-39. 2000.

(9)(a) G. Duménil, “Beyond the Transformation Riddle: A Labor Theory of Value”, 1983, Science and Society, Vol. XLVI(2), pp. 427-450. (b) Duncan K Foley, “The value of money, the value of labor power and the Marxian transformation problem”, Review of Radical Political Economy, 14(2): 37-47. 1982.