Friday, December 11, 2020

Trump Recognized Morocco’s Illegal Occupation to Boost the Israeli Occupation
Women wearing face masks carry a Saharan flag and a placard that says Free Sahara during a demonstration to demand the end of Morocco's occupation in Western Sahara on November 21, 2020, in Granada.FERMIN RODRIGUEZ / NURPHOTO VIA GETTY IMAGES

PUBLISHED December 11, 2020

On December 10, the United States became the only major country to formally recognize Morocco’s illegal annexation of Western Sahara, the former Spanish colony forcibly seized by Moroccan forces in 1975. Trump’s proclamation is directly counter to a series of UN Security Council resolutions and a landmark World Court ruling calling for self-determination.

Trump’s decision was a quid pro quo: a reward for Morocco’s formal recognition of Israel, a country which is also an occupying power. Trump had previously broken precedent by recognizing Israel’s illegal annexation of Syria’s Golan Heights and greater Jerusalem. The U.S. recognition of the annexation of an entire country, which has been recognized as an independent state by no less than 80 countries, is a particularly dangerous precedent. As with his earlier recognition of Israel’s conquests, Trump is effectively renouncing longstanding international legal principles in favor of the right of conquest.


And, since Western Sahara is a full member state of the African Union, Trump is essentially endorsing the conquest of one recognized African state by another. It was the prohibition of such territorial conquests enshrined in the UN Charter which the United States insisted had to be upheld by launching the Gulf War in 1991, reversing Iraq’s conquest of Kuwait. Now, the United States is essentially saying that an Arab country invading and annexing its small southern neighbor is OK after all.

Trump cites Morocco’s “autonomy plan” for the territory as “serious, credible, and realistic” and “the ONLY basis for a just and lasting solution” even though it falls far short of the international legal definition of “autonomy” and in effect would simply continue the occupation. Human Rights Watch, Amnesty International and other human right groups have documented the Moroccan occupation forces’ widespread suppression of peaceful advocates of independence, raising serious questions about what “autonomy” under the kingdom would actually look like.

Western Sahara is a sparsely populated territory about the size of Colorado, located on the Atlantic coast in northwestern Africa just south of Morocco. Traditionally inhabited by nomadic Arab tribes, collectively known as Sahrawis, and famous for their long history of resistance to outside domination, their dialect, dress and customs are distinct from most Moroccans. Spain occupied the territory beginning in the late 1800s and maintained its rule until the mid-1970s, well over a decade after most African countries had achieved their freedom from European colonialism.

In 1973, the nationalist Polisario Front launched an armed independence struggle against Spain and Madrid eventually promised the people of what was then still known as the Spanish Sahara a referendum on the fate of the territory by the end of 1975. Irredentist claims by Morocco and Mauritania were brought before the International Court of Justice, which ruled in October of 1975 that — despite pledges of fealty to the Moroccan sultan back in the 19th century by some tribal leaders bordering the territory and close ethnic ties between some Sahrawi and Mauritanian tribes — the right of self-determination was paramount. A special Visiting Mission from the United Nations engaged in an investigation on the situation in the territory that same year and reported that the vast majority of Sahrawis supported independence under the leadership of the Polisario, not integration with Morocco or Mauritania.Within hours of Trump’s December 10 announcement, word came of a U.S. decision to sell at least four sophisticated large aerial drones to Morocco.


During this same period, Morocco was threatening war with Spain over the territory. Though the Spaniards had a much stronger military, they were at that time dealing with the terminal illness of their longtime dictator Generalissimo Francisco Franco as well as increasing pressure from the United States, which wanted to back its Moroccan ally King Hassan II and did not want to see the leftist Polisario come to power. As a result, despite its earlier pledge to hold a referendum with the assumption that power would soon thereafter be handed over to the Polisario, Spain instead agreed in November 1975 to grant administrative control of the territory to Morocco (and, for a time, Mauritania) pending an act of self-determination. It never happened, however.

As Moroccan forces moved into Western Sahara, close to half the population fled the country into neighboring Algeria, which was supportive of the independence struggle against its historic rival. Morocco rejected a series of unanimous UN Security Council resolutions calling for the withdrawal of foreign forces and recognition of the Sahrawis’ right of self-determination. The United States and France, meanwhile, despite voting in favor of these resolutions, blocked the United Nations from enforcing them.

The Moroccan government, through generous housing subsidies, tax breaks, and other benefits, successfully encouraged tens of thousands of Moroccan settlers to move into the parts of Western Sahara under the kingdom’s control. These Moroccan settlers now outnumber the remaining Sahrawis indigenous to the territory by a ratio of more than 3:1. The Moroccan government also invested heavily in infrastructure development along with internal security to suppress pro-independence activists.Trump’s insistence that the Golan Heights, greater Jerusalem, and Western Sahara are no longer negotiable codifies what the occupying powers had been saying for decades.

While rarely able to penetrate into Moroccan-controlled territory, the Polisario continued regular assaults against Moroccan occupation forces stationed along the wall until 1991, when the United Nations ordered a ceasefire to be monitored by a UN peacekeeping force known as MINURSO. The agreement included provisions for a return of Sahrawi refugees to Western Sahara followed by a UN-supervised referendum on the fate of the territory, with the Sahrawis native to Western Sahara being given the choice of voting in favor of either independence or integration with Morocco. Neither the repatriation nor the referendum took place, however, due to the Moroccan insistence that Moroccan settlers and other Moroccan citizens whom it claimed had tribal links to the Western Sahara also be allowed to vote.

A compromise referendum plan put forward by the United Nations in 2003 under the secretary general’s special envoy James Baker was accepted by the Polisario but rejected by Morocco, which has instead put forward its controversial plan for limited autonomy for the region. Though the Bush and Obama administrations expressed a willingness to seriously consider Morocco’s proposal, they did not see it as the only option nor did they formally withdraw their support for a referendum.

After waiting 29 years for a referendum that never came and following a series of Moroccan ceasefire violations and other provocations, the Polisario resumed its armed struggle just last month.

Disturbingly, within hours of Trump’s December 10 announcement, word came of a U.S. decision to sell at least four sophisticated large aerial drones to Morocco. U.S. laws prohibit such weapons sales to invading armies. However, with the U.S. recognizing Moroccan sovereignty over Western Sahara, including the Polisario-controlled segments of the territory, the occupation has become, in the eyes of Washington, a civil war between a recognized government and a secessionist movement, which could also pave the way for further U.S. intervention.

In both the Israeli and Moroccan occupations, there has been bipartisan support for the occupiers — perhaps an unsurprising reality given the U.S.’s own status as a colonial entity. But previous administrations recognized the dangerous legal precedent of formal recognition. Trump, in both Palestine and Western Sahara, has essentially made official what was essentially U.S. policy anyway. For decades, both Republican and Democratic administrations have insisted that neither Morocco nor Israel was obligated to withdraw their occupying forces, instead allowing the occupying powers to engage in an endless “peace process” with those under occupation who have no leverage to change the equation. In this way, the U.S. has allowed both occupiers to continue colonizing their occupied territories and consolidating their control.

As a result, Trump’s insistence that the Golan Heights, greater Jerusalem and Western Sahara are no longer negotiable simply codifies what the occupying powers had been saying for decades, while receiving no pressure from the United States to do otherwise.Americans must once again pressure our government to cease supporting brutal occupations.

Once he becomes president, Biden could reverse Trump’s recognition of the Moroccan annexation. However, since this would probably mean that Morocco would then renounce its recognition of Israel, Biden will likely find himself under considerable pressure not to do so.

Trump’s dangerous act of recognition highlights the fact that there are two major occupations in the Arab world. The Sahrawis, like the Palestinians, deserve their freedom. Given the critical role the United States is playing in making these occupations possible, Americans have a special obligation to force a change of policy. Such activism in the 1990s played a key role in ending U.S. support for Indonesia’s occupation of East Timor. Americans must once again pressure our government to cease supporting brutal occupations.

SCOTUS Should Spurn Latest Texas Push to Flip Election. Will It?
Supporters of President Trump rally at the Supreme Court in Washington, D.C., on November 14, 2020.OLIVIER DOULIERY / AFP VIA GETTY IMAGES

PUBLISHED December 10, 2020

If this whole grinding post-election drama is all just an elaborate troll on Donald Trump’s part, a fundraiser aimed at fleecing his base even as he “owns the libs” by keeping everyone constantly on edge, it is already a bleak masterpiece. The judiciary to date has served as guard rails for his nonsense quest to overturn the 2020 presidential election. Now that the 6-3 conservative Supreme Court has been roped into the affair for the second time in a week, however, we are all of a sudden playing with live ammunition and it ain’t so silly no more.

At about the same time as that court was swatting Pennsylvania’s ludicrous election-flip argument out of the building, the attorney general of Texas was serving up a new legal complaint so freighted with inadequacies that it bends the very light. AG Ken Paxton — himself under indictment — has brought directly to the high court a suit against the election results in Michigan, Pennsylvania, Wisconsin and Georgia, claiming that measures taken by these pivotal battleground states to allow voting during a pandemic invalidates the entire enterprise.

Mull that one a tick. A president whose crashing incompetence, negligence, vanity and fear allowed the COVID-19 pandemic to eat the country now has a minion arguing that the very basic and entirely legal steps taken to defend democracy against the calamity he caused are, in fact, illegal. More to the point, a “states rights” Texas Republican is asking that court to meddle in the most fundamental duties of the four named states.

Benjamin Ginsberg, the Darth Vader of Republican election lawyers, whose heavy hand held sway during the 2000 election recount fiasco, finds the entire premise almost unspeakably absurd. “I can’t imagine something that is less faithful to the principle of states’ rights than a Texas attorney general trying to tell other states how to run their elections,” he told CNN.

Paxton’s little SCOTUS enterprise is marred with flaws before you even open the complaint. No other court — state or federal — has been afforded a say on Paxton’s “arguments.” To accept the case on the merits, the justices would have to agree that the issues being presented cannot be resolved by any lower courts.

To say this is a leap is to call the Grand Canyon a pothole. “There’s nothing unique about Texas’ claims here, most of which have already been brought in other suits against the same four states,” University of Texas Law School professor Steve Vladeck informed CNN.

These are not the only logs in Trump’s road to the Supreme Court. As of today, all 50 states have certified the results of their votes from the 2020 presidential election. Those results now reside in a legal “safe harbor” which protects them from rogue states — and yes, we are now using that phrase to describe 17 different parts of this very country — attempting to overturn the will of the people. Now that this deadline has passed, it would be extraordinary and unprecedented for any court to intervene.

Not to be deterred by quaint legal notions like precedent and, well, bedrock legal principle, Republican governors from some 17 states — Alabama, Arkansas, Florida, Indiana, Kansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, North Dakota, Oklahoma, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, Utah and West Virginia — have dogpiled Paxton’s petition. More importantly, Donald Trump has hitched his wagon to Paxton’s bleary star. On Wednesday, he asserted that Paxton’s case was “the big one” that “everyone has been waiting for.”The justices threw back his Pennsylvania petition this week without even deigning to comment, and a vast plurality of legal experts agree that something similar will take place with this Texas case.

In this, Trump is correct: Everyone is waiting to see what the high court will do. The justices threw back his Pennsylvania petition this week without even deigning to comment, and a vast plurality of legal experts agree that something similar will take place with this Texas case, the crowd of co-sponsors notwithstanding. It is a Hail Mary legal argument, lofted on a wing and a prayer in hopes that someone in the Supreme Court chamber will come down with the ball.

Thirty-six years ago nearly to the day, I was watching college football in a bad mood. Ronald Reagan had just been re-elected in a punishing landslide, and even in my youth I knew it was grim tidings. My household needed a smile, and the game that day gave us one: Boston College vs. Miami, the Hurricanes heavily favored over itty little BC and its bitty little quarterback, Doug Flutie.

It ended with Flutie dropping a towering last-second Hail Mary pass — “55 Flood Tip” was the play call — into the waiting arms of his roommate, Gerard Phelan, in one of the more preposterous endings in the history of organized sport. I lived a few blocks away from the BC campus, and when Phelan came down with that ball, the whole neighborhood — cars, trees, houses, sidewalks — leaped three feet into the air. It was a gloriously impossible ending that will live forever in college football lore.

This moment was special because Hail Mary passes only rarely work, and upon failure come to represent the desperation of the pass-tossing losing team in its defeat. Paxton, Trump and those 17 states have chucked up the mother of all Hail Mary passes toward the Supreme Court’s end zone. It seems highly implausible that the court will even agree to hear the case, much less choose to support the petition.

Here’s the thing, though: Phelan came down with the goddamn ball. Amid a forest of defending arms and in defiance of physics he came down with it and Boston College walked off the field that night a winner.

Trump has called a 55 Flood Tip, the ball is in the air, and if it all wasn’t strange enough already, Ted Cruz of all people has been tasked to go catch it. By all that is normal and true, this last-gasp pass should bounce harmlessly away, but 2020 has taught us a great deal about the power of the horrifically impossible to become flesh-and-bone real. We may hear the court’s decision as soon as tomorrow. Stay tuned, and stout hearts.

 

 
 
 

Today, police and Trans Mountain contractors arrived at the Holmes Creek camp in the Brunette River in Burnaby.

Armed private security destroyed the camp that has been standing strong since August, and logging crews are preparing to cut magnificent cottonwood trees next to a salmon stream full of eggs waiting to hatch.

Trans Mountain vice president David Safari swore under oath that the company could not cut trees in this area at this time of year because of the risk to fish.

But here they are. Bulldozing unceded Indigenous land and threatening sacred salmon rivers. And for what? To build a carbon bomb of a pipeline experts are lining up to say is no longer needed. And they’re doing it with billions of our tax dollars. Tell them to stop.

It’s hard to write this. I actually had something different planned for you today: an update about a raft of encouraging new reports — including from the Liberal government’s own agencies — that fatally undermine our opponents’ arguments for building this pipeline:

Trans Mountain is not needed: there is more than enough pipeline capacity without Trans Mountain or Keystone XL. [1]

Trans Mountain is not viable: the project will lose money for taxpayers under every realistic scenario [2], and will even lose money for oil companies. [3]

It’s official: Trudeau has to choose between climate action and building Trans Mountain. We’ve been saying this for years, but now it’s the Canada Energy Regulator delivering the news — the same agency that recommended Trudeau approve the project. [4]

These reports aren’t gathering dust in some dark corner of the internet — they’re making headlines. When top Globe and Mail columnists are saying the ‘pipeline era is over’ and calling Trans Mountain ‘Canada’s white elephant,’ you know alarm bells are ringing for Liberal strategists in Ottawa.

The Liberal government is being forced to face some hard truths. Make sure they can’t look away: send a message now and tell them to cancel Trans Mountain.

I would be devastated about what happened today in the Brunette River whether Trans Mountain was going to make money for Big Oil and the Canadian government or not. But even economic arguments for the project are in the toilet, and the fact that our government is wilfully ignoring clear evidence of this as it tramples Indigenous rights, and destroys our shared home and future, has me humming with rage.

What to do with that anger? The case to cancel this project has never been stronger, so send the federal government a message right now. You can also follow land defenders on social media for the latest updates and how you can help. And stay ready for more action alerts from us — now is our moment to put this project on ice.

With rage and hope,

Alexandra

[1] https://www.policyalternatives.ca/publications/reports/reassessment-need-trans-mountain-pipeline-expansion-project
[2] https://www.pbo-dpb.gc.ca/en/blog/news/RP-2021-035-S--trans-mountain-pipeline-financial-economic-considerations-update--pipeline-trans-mountain-considerations-financieres-economiques-mise-jour
[3] https://www.policyalternatives.ca/publications/reports/reassessment-need-trans-mountain-pipeline-expansion-project
[4] https://www.thestar.com/news/canada/2020/11/24/canada-energy-regulator-projects-there-may-be-no-need-for-trans-mountain-expansion.html


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We Need Five Days’ Pay for Four Days’ Work
AND A FOUR DAY WEEK















DEC 9,2020

Working time reduction has always been used as a way of distributing available work and reducing unemployment. In our era of crisis, we need to fight for a four-day week.
Working time reduction has always been used as a way of distributing available work and reducing unemployment. (Adrien Olichon / Unsplash)

This week, at their annual conference, the Scottish National Party overwhelmingly backed a reduction to working hours. The motion, which passed by 1,136 votes to 70, called on the Scottish government to launch a review of working practices in Scotland, including the “possibility of a four-day week.”

The SNP’s motion is the latest bright spot – but promising moves are not confined to the UK. Unilever in New Zealand put their employees on a trial four-day week this week, with no reduction in pay, and last week, in Spain, the center-left party MĂ¡s PaĂ­s put forward proposals for the Spanish Finance Ministry to consider providing financial aid to companies that cut the working week to thirty-two hours, with no loss of pay, as part of its 2021 budget.

The German metalworking union IG Metall have also announced plans to campaign for a four-day week in order to prevent mass layoffs in the New Year — just two years after they won a 4.3 percent pay rise and the right to reduce their working week to twenty-eight hours. And last month, a group of politicians and union officials from across Europe, including Unite’s Len McCluskey, the Green Party’s Caroline Lucas, and Die Linke’s coleader Katja Kipping, argued that a four-day week would help economies recover from the pandemic.

The New Economics Foundation’s new book makes the case that shorter working time should be at the heart of a post-pandemic recovery. Critics argue that a reduction in working time is exactly the wrong thing to do during a crisis — but over the last century, the most rapid reductions in working time came in the immediate aftermath of world wars, and during periods of economic crisis. Working time reduction has always been used as a way of distributing available work and reducing unemployment, most famously during the Great Depression.

There are important economic reasons for reducing working time without reducing wages. The UK economy relies heavily on domestic wages and spending power, which intuitively makes sense: a functioning economy is dependent on the constant circulation of money, and the more people earn, the more they spend.

Increasing leisure time while protecting pay can be expected to increase spending in the economy overall. The measure could be especially pertinent for industries like arts and culture, and domestic tourism, which have suffered due to COVID-19 and depend on people having both money and the time to spend.

As we attempt to move toward recovery, workers and their unions should feel emboldened knowing that they are owed a significant reduction in working time after four decades of stagnation: the working week has barely decreased since the 1980s.

They should also feel confident in the knowledge that countries who work fewer hours are likely to be more productive. Germany, the Netherlands, and all of Scandinavia work far fewer hours than in the UK, and yet have much higher levels of productivity. Workers are happier, less stressed, and healthier, too.

Shorter working time is a way of future-proofing our economy and ensuring that the impact of automation is one that benefits workers. Unions are already campaigning on this and winning. The Communication Workers Union (CWU) have agreed with Royal Mail to shorten the working week from thirty-nine to thirty-five hours for 134,000 postal workers, a concession which was a direct response to the impact of automation: postal workers, it was argued, should benefit from the mechanization of the parcel packaging process in the form of shorter hours.

Despite these pockets of change, we can’t sit back and wait for a shorter working week to arrive. We know that working time doesn’t reduce by itself. Instead, the four-day week must be fought for, alongside demands for better pay and more secure work.

In the early days of this crisis, there was hope that we could emerge from it with a new determination to build a better world. Since then, claps for key workers have been converted into a public sector pay freeze, the government has doled out billions of pounds to incompetent and exploitative contractors like Serco and G4S rather than investing in a public health system, and a huge death toll — accompanied by social and economic hardship — has grown out of the mismanagement of the virus.

But the hope that we had for a fundamental shift in our relationship to work has persisted. Now, hope is leading normal people to demand permanent change in the form of a reduction in working time. And that change would give us something that we understand the importance of in 2020 more than ever: time to do the things we want with the people we love


ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Aidan Harper is a researcher at New Economics Foundation.

Why the Contemporary Right Loves Nietzsche (and Heidegger and Schmitt)

BYMATT MCMANUS

Today’s right-wing thinkers look to Nietzsche and other German reactionaries to ground their elitist politics — and to do battle with leftists' project of universal emancipation
.
Detail of Edvard Munch, Portrait of Friedrich Nietzsche, 1906


In his excellent new book, Conservatism: The Fight for a Tradition, Edmund Fawcett asks a fair question: If the Left is so smart, how come we’re not in charge? Since John Stuart Mill’s lacerating characterization of conservatives as the “stupid” party, many opponents of right-wing politics have delighted in simply mocking the vulgarity and dogmatic prejudices of their foes. But time has shown that we do so at our own peril. Lobbing grenades without understanding our adversaries is a foolhardy endeavor.

On today’s political right, three late German thinkers loom large: Friedrich Nietzsche, Martin Heidegger, and Carl Schmitt. All three wrote their most important works between 1850 and 1950, a time of transformative rise and Luciferian fall in Germany, and despite major differences, all three expressed profound discomfort with the egalitarianism and libertinism of modernity.

For stalwart defenders of capitalist hierarchy like Jordan Peterson, illiberals like Adrian Vermeule, and of course the alt-right, Nietzsche, Heidegger, and Schmitt furnish the intellectual armor to do battle with the Left. Ironically, the reactionary trio has also had their fair share of left-leaning fans and interpreters — which makes examining and critiquing their work all the more important for leftists today.

Nihilism and Hierarchy in Nietzsche



Every elevation of the type “man,” has hitherto been the work of an aristocratic society and so it will always be — a society believing in a long scale of gradations of rank and differences of worth among human beings, and requiring slavery in some form or other. Without the pathos of distance, such as grows out of the incarnated difference of classes, out of the constant out-looking and down-looking of the ruling caste on subordinates and instruments, and out of their equally constant practice of obeying and commanding, of keeping down and keeping at a distance — that other more mysterious pathos could never have arisen, the longing for an ever new widening of distance within the soul itself, the formation of ever higher, rarer, further, more extended, more comprehensive states, in short, just the elevation of the type “man,” the continued “self-surmounting of man,” to use a moral formula in a supermoral sense.

—Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil

Nietzsche is far and away the most influential of the three, both because of the powerful effect his ideas had on Heidegger and Schmitt, and his immense impact on culture as a whole. He is also a rarity among German philosophers: reading him is a pleasure. Nietzsche had a genuine sense of humor and loved nothing more than to drop in counterintuitive turns of phrase.

Through the years, many ostensible left-wing thinkers and movements — from countercultural artists to post-structuralists and feminists like Michel Foucault and Judith Butler — have drawn on Nietzsche, too. This would have likely surprised the Antichrist, who prophesized an end to the egalitarian “slave morality” of Christianity (along with its progeny, liberalism, and socialism) and the emergence of the noble and aristocratic supermen in their place. As Malcolm Bull puts it in Anti-Nietzsche, “equality has no fiercer critic than Nietzsche, whose ‘fundamental insight with respect to the geneaology of morals’ is that social inequality is the source of our value concepts, and the necessary condition of value itself.”Some leftists have looked favorably upon Nietzsche’s anti-Christian animus, seeing it as an emancipatory weapon against oppressive moralism. But Nietzsche had something far different in mind.

At the heart of Nietzsche’s outlook is a concern for the problem of nihilism. In his mind, nihilism was the inevitable consequence of a fall from the honorable, fierce aristocracies of yore and their replacement by Christianity, which postured as a religion of compassion and pity for the weak, poor, and humble. Far from being based on love, Nietzsche argued, Christianity was a kind of Platonism for the people, giving voice to their resentful belief that the real world was so filled with evil and suffering that it could only be justified if an eternal world existed above and below.

In this eternal world, the suffering inflicted by the aristocrats, the wealthy, and the violent would be meted out against those who had been powerful and arrogant in their mortal lives. It’s no accident that in The Genealogy of Morals, Nietzsche pays great attention to Tertullian’s comment that one of the great joys in heaven will be witnessing the suffering of the damned in hell. Unable to achieve revenge in this life, the weak will get to enjoy it eternally in the next one.

Some leftists have looked favorably upon Nietzsche’s anti-Christian animus, seeing it as an emancipatory weapon against oppressive moralism. But Nietzsche had something far different in mind. He felt that the desire for emancipation and equality was simply the continuation of the Christian theological project under a new, secularized guise.

Since the French Revolution — the “continuation of Christianity,” as Nietzsche put it in his notes for The Will to Power — the leveling impetus of the slave morality was more universalized than ever, bringing with it the decay of institutions and noble individuals who alone could provide a sense of meaning in a nihilistic post-God world. This was true of liberalism, and especially socialism, which held that the weak, sickly, and unworthy should unite and take over the world to end exploitation and dominion. For these doctrines, Nietzsche had nothing but contempt:

Whom do I hate most heartily among the rabbles of today? The rabble of Socialists, the apostles to the Chandala, who undermine the workingman’s instincts, his pleasure, his feeling of contentment with his petty existence — who make him envious and teach him revenge. . . . Wrong never lies in unequal rights; it lies in the assertion of “equal” rights. . . . What is bad? But I have already answered: all that proceeds from weakness, from envy, from revenge. — The anarchist and the Christian have the same ancestry. . .”

Only an unequal system, Nietzsche argued, could produce truly creative souls with life-affirming values. These values could not be judged morally in a nihilistic world, but only according to the one metric left after the death of God: aesthetically. For Nietzsche, the great-souled man will inevitably use others as his clay in tremendous and often terrifyingly violent projects — indifferent to, if not directly hostile toward, the mostly worthless masses whose primary value is being put to use by the coming superman. The inferior masses, Nietzsche was saying, should simply accept their exploitation by their betters.
Schmitt and Heidegger on Modernity

It would be too much to call Nietzsche a proto-Nazi. While he has profoundly influenced fascist and far-right movements, Nietzsche’s disdain for nationalism, antisemitism, and strident individualism resist the caricature of him as a Nazi thinker advanced, among others, by his own sister.

The same can’t be said for Schmitt and Heidegger. Both were active members of the Nazi party, and both played a significant role in legitimating it. Ironically, despite accusations by figures like Jordan Peterson that any defense of Marx or Marxism is virtually an apology for mass slaughter, Schmitt’s and Heidegger’s political commitments haven’t kept them from influencing the contemporary 
right.
Martin Heidegger. (Wikimedia Commons)

At the center of Schmitt and Heidegger’s reactionary politics is a critique of modernity. This takes a number of forms: skepticism of humanism, anxiety about relativistic individualism’s privileged place in modern morality, alarm at the rise of the chattering classes and “idle talk” in liberal representative democracy, and, above all, contempt for the declining commitment to existential struggles that generate authenticity and meaning.

Like Nietzsche, Schmitt and Heidegger are committed to the idea that overcoming the limitations of modernity means supplanting the two great modernist doctrines of liberalism and socialism with a new kind of total nationalist politics directed by the leader figure or, more vaguely, the “spiritual mission of the German people.”

Neither, then, had much good to say about liberalism or socialism. For Heidegger, writing in the Introduction to Metaphysics, they were both “metaphysically the same” in their materialism and egalitarian concern for human welfare. When you boiled it down, the so-called great debates between liberals and socialists were ultimately technical disputes over how to build and distribute better refrigerators.
Carl Schmitt. (Wikimedia Commons)

Schmitt, while more nuanced, would have largely agreed with Heidegger. For Schmitt, political struggle was and should be at the core of human life since it provides a grandiose, homogenizing sense of meaning for groups of people. Politics binds us together by constructing an ultimately theological view of how the world should be and contrasting it with one’s political enemies. It was in part through the (frequently violent) struggle against political adversaries that a shared identity was forged.

According to Schmitt, the great error of liberalism was supposing that politics could be overcome through talk in representative institutions, which made it both hypocritical and weak. Marxist socialism was little better since it emphasized the historical significance of class struggle as an engine of meaning. But in the long run socialists also wanted an end to meaning-giving political struggle, which would be transcended — along with alienation — in the economic democracy to come.

Schmitt ridiculed this life as one of managed, bureaucratic hedonism where state officials would assume the role of caretakers and stifle the grander, frequently violent impulses of humankind.

Reactionaries, Liberals, and Socialists


Unpacking the German reactionaries’ writings — among the most profound and disturbing arguments for right-wing politics available — serves a purpose beyond critique. It can also help sharpen our understanding of left politics.The triumvirate blossom evergreen because they will always appeal to those who see the drive for more democracy as a danger to be confronted and defeated.

Recently, I’ve argued that liberalism and socialism have important intellectual affinities, even if they represent distinct political traditions. Both view human beings as moral equals and, as opponents of traditional hierarchies, advocate as much freedom as possible. Liberalism falters in blanching at the thoroughgoing pursuit of not just political but economic democracy.

But both doctrines stand in stark contrast to the reactionary views of Nietzsche, Heidegger, and Schmitt. For all its differences, the trio was united in holding that the modernist project is a fundamental danger precisely because it permits too much equality and freedom. Existence can only be meaningful with the presence of hierarchy, whether between individuals (Nietzsche) or with the withering away of nihilistic liberal democracies in the face of more spiritually attuned nationalist, unified polities (Heidegger and Schmitt). This could only be achieved by eliminating dissident enemies within and without, along with uniform subordination to the “spiritual mission” that reactionary intellectuals laid out.

We’ve seen the horrifying consequences of this project over the twentieth century, which almost buried the reputations of Nietzsche, Heidegger, and Schmitt with them. But the triumvirate blossom evergreen because they will always appeal to those who see the drive for more democracy as a danger to be confronted and defeated. Grappling with their ideas and appeal is vital to countering their efforts — and advancing the humanistic project of securing equality and freedom for all.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Matt McManus is a visiting professor of politics at Whitman College. He is the author of The Rise of Post-Modern Conservatism and Myth and the coauthor of Mayhem: A Leftist Critique of Jordan Peterson.



Our new issue, “Failure Is an Option,” is out now. We discuss why the United States’ institutional breakdown won’t stop after Trump leaves office and what can be done to improve things for working people. 


The CIA’s Secret Global War Against the Left
Branko Marcetic

We’re Celebrating Our 10th Anniversary. Help Us Stick Around for Many More.
Bhaskar Sunkara

Bernie Sanders’s Five-Year War
Matt Karp

Are You Reading Propaganda Right Now?
Liza Featherstone
OUR FAVOURITE STALINIST
La Pasionaria, Heroine of the Spanish Civil War

BY PAUL PRESTON
DEC. 9, 2020

Born 125 years ago today, communist leader Dolores IbĂ¡rruri was the most famous symbol of the Republican cause in Spain. Known as "La Pasionaria," she coined the battle cry "¡No pasarĂ¡n!" — expressing the fearlessness which made her a heroine for generations of anti-fascists.

The Spanish Communist Dolores Ibarruri known as "La Pasionaria" at a meeting of Spanish workers in Geneva. (Keystone / Getty Images


For her admirers, Dolores IbĂ¡rruri was an inspirational Civil War heroine and a universal earth-mother figure. For her Francoist enemies, she was the terrifying virago whose bloodthirsty rhetoric had emasculated right-wing MPs in the Popular Front–controlled parliament. The fear she provoked was reflected in frequent insults casting her as both manly and a “whore.” Her essential crime was that she encouraged women to abandon the serene servility which was considered their proper attitude.

Such views revealed more about the sexual and social fears of right-wing men than about IbĂ¡rruri. Yet, the vehemence of such insults is an indication of her historical importance. To this day, her role in raising the morale of the defenders of Madrid faced with the Francoist offensive, her much-quoted words to the women of the beleaguered capital, and her immortal farewell speech to the International Brigades, have retained their ability to move sympathizers of the Republican cause.

Nevertheless, the familiar images of La Pasionaria — the passionate fire-eater portrayed by both communist legend and anti-communist demonology — give only a partial picture. In the political arena and her private life, IbĂ¡rruri’s essential characteristics were strength, realism, and fierce determination to correct injustice. During the hard years of exile in the USSR, a loyal Stalinist emerged who differed considerably from the Civil War stereotypes.
Becoming a Communist

Dolores IbĂ¡rruri was born on December 9, 1895 in Gallarta, a mining village in Vizcaya. She was the eighth of eleven children; her father was a miner, and her mother a devout Catholic. Although a rebellious child, she was piously Catholic until the age of twenty — and even flirted with the idea of a religious vocation.

Her first job was as a domestic servant to a local middle-class family. The work was harsh; she had to rise at 6 AM and did not get to bed until 2 AM the following morning. At age twenty she married Socialist miner JuliĂ¡n Ruiz. She found not happiness but bitter desperation as, in her own words, “a domestic slave with no rights.”

She sought diversion in reading, principally in the Marxist literature provided first by her husband and then by the library of the Casa del Pueblo in Somorrostro, where they lived. Grinding poverty, together with the proselytizing zeal of her husband, turned the previously Catholic wife into a leftist.

News of the October Revolution in Russia provided a beacon of hope for IbĂ¡rruri. In 1918, when she wrote an article for the miners’ newspaper, she used the pseudonym Pasionaria (passion flower) by which she would be known for the rest of her life. The choice of a flower that bloomed in spring was nothing to do with her character but a reference to the fact that the article was published at Easter.

In 1921, when the Communist Party (PCE) was founded, she and her husband were both among the Basques who left the Socialists to join the new party. She was soon elected to its Vizcaya provincial committee
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La Pasionaria giving a speech to a crowd in Madrid.

Throughout the 1920s, the human costs of her — and particularly her husband’s —militancy intensified IbĂ¡rruri’s appalling hardships. With JuliĂ¡n often in prison, she was left to bring up a family with little money. After he was released, she was often pregnant. Inability to pay for adequate medical care and nourishment for her children contributed to the deaths of four of her daughters.

Her grief and outrage intensified her determination to fight injustice — addressing meetings, writing articles, organizing demonstrations, but also often darning the socks of a comrade or cooking for them. She was an archetypal mother figure to the miners, teaching them to read; yet she was also an early feminist, passionately advocating the inclusion of women in PCE activities. Her growing significance within the party was recognized in March 1930 when she was elected to its Central Committee.

In the campaign for the April 1931 municipal elections, which brought the Second Republic, IbĂ¡rruri came to prominence as an orator. Despite frequent nerves, both the content and her delivery gave her speeches enormous emotional power. Her abilities, together with her rarity value as a woman, brought her to the attention of Comintern leaders and she was called to Madrid in September 1931 to work as a journalist for the party newspaper Mundo Obrero.

This move coincided with the final breakdown of her marriage. In subsequent years, she was subjected to frequent arrests which meant separation from her children — something which caused her “tears of blood.” In 1935, at the party’s suggestion, she made the painful decision to send her son RubĂ©n and daughter Amaya to Russia for a few months. However, the political turmoil of spring 1936, followed by the Civil War, meant that she would not see them again for several years.

Her success as an orator led to her selection as a PCE candidate in the February 1936 elections, in which she was elected to parliament. That spring she was increasingly in the limelight, campaigning for amnesties for political prisoners, advocating revolution at mass rallies and supporting strikers.

She was also a great success as a deputy, drawing media attention with her speeches passionately attacking the Right. The military uprising of July 18, 1936 fully revealed her capacity both to inspire and give voice to the popular mood. The following day, she made a broadcast on behalf of the PCE. In a rousing appeal, she declared “The fascists shall not pass! ¡No pasarĂ¡n!” — a phrase which soon became the Republican battle-cry.
¡No pasarĂ¡n!

In the early months of the war, she worked hard visiting fighting units, lifting the morale of the troops. Her courage and concern for their conditions guaranteed her a warm welcome, and her energy inspired those around her. Stalin’s agent, Mikhail Koltsov, described her work within the PCE leadership, where she provided a link with life in the streets, outside its smoke-filled rooms:

To the severe, masculine atmosphere of the Politburo, excessively dominated by the rule-book, the presence of Dolores brought warmth, joy, a sense of humour or of passionate anger.

Her greatest impact came from speeches appealing to the civilian population to support the militias — and to the rest of the world to support the Republic. Although her tone was broadly Republican and not narrowly Communist, the PCE derived enormous prestige from her emergence as the single most representative figure of the Republic. The pressure on her was intense — and she worked herself to exhaustion. The Austrian sociologist Franz Borkenau commented on “the simple, self-sacrificing faith which emanates from every word she speaks.”Throughout her life, her stature had grown commensurately with the scale of the problems with which she had to deal. She consistently met challenges with courage and was not diminished by defeat.

Ordinary people in Republican Spain found their lives turned upside down by the war — and found such a powerful “mother” figure appealing. Every day brought losses of loved ones, food shortages, bombing raids, and the constant anxiety of Francoist terror. The strength and concern emanating from Pasionaria was a beacon of certainty in a sea of insecurity.

Her simplicity and sincerity created a rapport which enabled her to voice the fears and hopes of many working-class people in the Republican zone. Every day, she was inundated by letters from ordinary people and soldiers, asking her to solve some problem or other.

On September 8, 1936, in an effort to mobilize public opinion in France against its government’s decision not to sell arms to Spain, she addressed a huge crowd in Paris’s VĂ©lodrome d’Hiver. Here, she coined another resounding phrase: “the Spanish people would rather die on its feet than live on its knees.” She ended with a disturbing and prophetic warning:

And do not forget, and let no one forget, that if today it is our turn to resist fascist aggression, the struggle will not end in Spain. Today it’s us; but if the Spanish people is allowed to be crushed, you will be next, all of Europe will have to face aggression and war

The Defense of Madrid

The Paris trip established her worldwide as the symbol of the Republican war effort. But she came to even greater prominence during the siege of Madrid. Her courage was on display every day; even as bombs fell, she sauntered fearlessly along the tops of the trenches, calling for courage and determination in the face of the enemy.

In Mundo Obrero on September 25, she called for a total mobilization of Madrid’s population, with “Militarization: obligatory labour; rationing; discipline; exemplary punishment for saboteurs.” She was also a passionate advocate of a professional army for the Republic.

On October 5, she was made an honorary major in the PCE’s crack Fifth Regiment militia. At the ceremony, she made a belligerent speech:

This is not the moment to weep for our dead but to avenge them. The raped women, the murdered militiamen demand vengeance and justice; vengeance and justice are what we owe them and vengeance and justice is what we will impose on the executioners of the people.

Her frequent radio broadcasts also helped to maintain Republican morale — and as Franco’s African columns neared Madrid, she turned panic and fear into hope and a determination to fight. From her efforts to raise the morale of Madrid’s women came perhaps the most famous of her battle cries: “It is better to be the widows of heroes than the wives of cowards!”

Invariably accompanied by photographers and reporters, her every action had an impact on morale — and a propaganda dimension. She was regularly seen digging trenches, haranguing the troops, consoling soldiers who had lost their comrades and mothers who had lost their children. At times, she stopped panicked withdrawals by shaming the fleeing soldiers into returning to the trenches.

Pasionaria was tireless, hurrying around the city’s defenses, in one place stopping to deliver an impromptu speech, in another undertaking to do something about the lack of supplies. Sure that Madrid would fall, the Republican government left for Valencia on November 6.

Two days later, in a now terror-stricken Madrid, she addressed an enthusiastic meeting in the Cine Monumental, barely one kilometer from the front. She was greeted enthusiastically — and her speech giving thanks for Soviet aid raised spirits enormously. This was not just a recital of the party line — Dolores was genuinely moved by the Russian assistance to the Republic.

Similarly, she was especially affected by the arrival of the International Brigaders to help defend Madrid, also on November 6. Without thought for her own safety, she shared the same risks as they did in her efforts to help boost their morale.

In the cellars of the Faculty of Architecture on the northern outskirts of Madrid, full of women and children sheltering from the Nationalist bombardment, she addressed the brigaders on November 15. Making herself heard over the sound of artillery shells and machine guns, she again emphasized the international significance of the Spanish struggle:

You fight and make sacrifices for the freedom and independence of Spain. But Spain is sacrificing herself for the whole world. To fight for Spain is to fight for freedom and peace in the whole world.

By November 23, Franco had to accept that the frontal assault on Madrid had been beaten back. He moved to a policy of trying to encircle the capital and simultaneously mop up some of the periphery. She would never again be as directly involved in the war effort. But her role in maintaining morale remained crucial.
Defeat

IbĂ¡rruri was infuriated by the fall of MĂ¡laga in February 1937 — a defeat for which she held incompetent Socialist prime minister Francisco Largo Caballero largely responsible. She played an important role in the campaign to remove him, through both her speeches and private channels.She and most of the Left saw such a move as tantamount to surrender; they were determined to resist until, they hoped, the Western powers realized that their interests required them to support the Republic.

An opportunity arose after the infamous May Days, when the anti-Stalinist communists of the Workers’ Party of Marxist Unification (POUM) and the anarcho-syndicalist National Confederation of Labour (CNT) rebelled against the Republic in Barcelona. IbĂ¡rruri visited president Manuel Azaña to complain about Largo Caballero’s ineptitude, his timidity with regard to the CNT, and the pernicious influence of his personal entourage.

Largely under Communist pressure, on May 17, Largo Caballero was replaced by finance minister Dr Juan NegrĂ­n. Yet, this change came too late to help the Basque Country; in a devastating blow to IbĂ¡rruri, Bilbao fell on June 19. In an eloquent article, she expressed her pain — and the conviction that this was a consequence of Largo Caballero’s mistakes.

Desperately anxious about how the war was going in the north, she fervently supported the diversionary attacks on Brunete and then Belchite. In articles published in Mundo Obrero, she paid tribute to the heroic resistance in Asturias. But she also railed against the shortsightedness of the Western democracies, in failing to support the Republic:

We have appealed to the proletariat of the entire world to come to our aid. We have shouted until we were hoarse at the doors of the so-called democratic countries, telling them what our struggle meant for them; and they did not listen.

By summer, with PCE Secretary-General José Díaz profoundly ill, she carried out many of his functions. She worked day and night, constantly importuned by problems, papers to read and authorize, and visitors to receive. Given her intense commitment to the war effort, she was infuriated by the frequent pessimistic remarks made by defense minister Indalecio Prieto. Within a week of the loss of Teruel in February 1938, she launched a savage attack on him.

On March 16, with Azaña and Prieto inclined to seek international mediation, she led a mass demonstration to pressure the cabinet against this. She and most of the Left saw such a move as tantamount to surrender; they were determined to resist until, they hoped, the Western powers realized that their interests required them to support the Republic.
Members of the Tom Mann Centuri unit of the International Brigaders in Barcelona in September 1936.

The entire event was stage-managed. As part of the orchestration of the event, NegrĂ­n left the cabinet meeting in order formally to receive Pasionaria. She presented him with the demonstration’s demands for commitment to continued resistance — with which he fully agreed.

But the following month, Franco’s forces reached the Mediterranean — splitting Republican Spain and cutting off Catalonia. In this context, she made a brutally frank report to the Central Committee on May 23, making no effort to minimize the gravity of the situation.


The military defeats that we have suffered in recent months have left us in such a state that we have to declare, without any kind of exaggeration, that, at this moment, the liberty and independence of our country is more directly and seriously threatened than ever before.

She went on to draw a bleak assessment of the international situation, of the difficulties likely to face the central zone and of the ongoing problem of defeatism. She ended with a rousing call for greater unity and discipline behind the program of Dr NegrĂ­n, as the basis for resistance. The audience was shaken by her message; yet, in the words of American reporter Vincent Sheean,


the genius of Dolores — her unquestionable genius as a speaker, the most remarkable I ever heard — worked upon them its customary miracle, and she had the whole audience cheering with enthusiasm when she finished.

During the Munich crisis of fall 1938, NegrĂ­n proposed the withdrawal of the International Brigades, in the hope that this might tip British and French sentiment in favor of the Republic. Although she understood the political reasons behind the decision, Pasionaria was devastated by its implications. She had always seen the presence of the brigaders as the ultimate symbol that the Spanish Republic did not have to face fascism alone. The official farewell parade was held in Barcelona on October 29. In the presence of many thousands of tearful, but cheering, Spaniards, Dolores IbĂ¡rruri wept as she gave an emotional and moving speech:


Comrades of the International Brigades! Political reasons, reasons of state, the good of that same cause for which you offered your blood with limitless generosity, send some of you back to your countries and some to forced exile. You can go with pride. You are history. You are legend. You are the heroic example of the solidarity and the universality of democracy. […] We will not forget you; and, when the olive tree of peace puts forth its leaves, entwined with the laurels of the Spanish Republic’s victory, come back! Come back to us and here those of you who have no homeland will find a homeland, those who are forced to live without friends will find friends, and all of you will find the affection and the gratitude of the entire Spanish people.
Exile and Return

As the war ended in victory for Franco, IbĂ¡rruri escaped to Algiers. From there, she headed to France, before being recalled to Moscow.

This escape from Spain was traumatic — and the beginning of thirty-eight years of difficult exile in Russia. With the party fighting for survival against savage repression in Spain — and pursuing much of its activity in exile, in Latin America and Europe — she steered the PCE skillfully and often harshly in the years before Stalinism thawed. After her replacement as general secretary by Santiago Carrillo, she became party president and retired into a more symbolic role.

IbĂ¡rruri would finally return to Spain only on May 13, 1977. She would now play a significant role in the transition to democracy. She campaigned energetically in that June’s elections, and was herself elected a deputy. For a brief period in the new democracy’s first parliament, the Communist herself acted as Presidente de las Cortes — an astonishing symbol of national reconciliation.

In her final twelve years, she witnessed the consolidation of democracy and the collapse of the PCE. After a battle with pneumonia, she died on November 12, 1989, aged ninety-three. Her body lay for three days at party headquarters and over seventy thousand people came to pay their respects.

Her funeral in Madrid saw her coffin, draped in the party’s red flag, drawn through crowds of many thousands. After many tributes, a recording of her last speech was played and the crowd sang La Internacional. The woman who had come to maturity as the Bolshevik revolution was taking place died as holes were being knocked in the Berlin Wall and the USSR itself was collapsing.

This did not mean that she had been a failure. During the Civil War, she had progressed from being the mother of her party to a maternal symbol for large swathes of the population in the Republican zone. Throughout her life, her stature had grown commensurately with the scale of the problems with which she had to deal.

She consistently met challenges with courage and was not diminished by defeat. In exile, just as they had done during the Civil War, her speeches and broadcasts helped to keep alive the spirit of resistance to the dictatorship — and of the struggle for democracy in Spain.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Paul Preston is a historian of Spain. His most recent book is A People Betrayed: A History of Corruption, Political Incompetence and Social Division in Modern Spain 1874-2018.



La Pasionaria, Spanish Anti-Fascism’s Greatest Orator, Remained Defiant in Exile

BY LISA A. KIRSCHENBAUM

12.09.2020

During Spain’s Civil War, Dolores IbĂ¡rruri was famed worldwide as La Pasionaria, the brilliant orator who stirred anti-fascists’ souls. Fleeing to Moscow in 1939, she soon became the exiled Communists’ leader — both political guide for a defeated party and a “Spanish mother” confronting the expectations of her male comrades.
Dolores IbĂ¡rruri addressing a rally in Madrid in 1936.

When the Spanish Republic fell in March 1939 after three years of civil war, forcing hundreds of thousands of soldiers and civilians to flee the country, only about two thousand of them were admitted into the Soviet Union. Dolores IbĂ¡rruri was the most famous of this select group, and perhaps the most famous woman in the world at the time. Born on December 9, 1895, into a family of impoverished miners in Spain’s Basque country, by 1939, she had become an international symbol of the Spanish struggle against fascism. In one of his earliest columns from Spain, Soviet journalist Mikhail Koltsov described IbĂ¡rruri as a “daughter of the people — yesterday a simple, illiterate worker, today one of the leaders of the Spanish Communist Party . . . a simple Spanish woman in a black housedress.”

In her 1962 memoir, IbĂ¡rruri presented herself in similar terms. As a young girl, she had dreamed of becoming a teacher. But poverty prevented her from completing her education. In 1916, she married a miner and trade union activist, JuliĂ¡n Ruiz, with whom she had six children; only two survived to adulthood. A year after the Russian Revolution, she began writing for the local miners’ newspaper under the pseudonym “La Pasionaria” — the passionflower. In 1921, she and Ruiz joined the tiny, recently founded Spanish Communist Party (PCE). By 1933, IbĂ¡rruri had moved high enough in the party’s ranks to travel to Moscow for a meeting of the Comintern’s executive committee. Her rise to international fame began with the radio address she gave in July 1936, the day after the military launched a coup against the Republic, when she declared “¡No pasarĂ¡n!” These words would become the most recognizable anti-fascist rallying cry of the era: “They shall not pass!”

During the Civil War, IbĂ¡rruri’s popular influence and appeal had less to do with a specifically Communist message than with her powerful — and profoundly gendered — performance of defiance and self-sacrifice. In 1935 or 1936, around the time of her fortieth birthday, she had begun always appearing in widow’s black. This costume disguised the fact that she was separated from her husband and allowed her to turn herself into an icon. In a letter, published in Pravda, to the Soviet actress who had played her in Aleksandr Afinogenov’s 1936 play Salut, Ispanii!, IbĂ¡rruri attributed her success as an orator to her ability to express — to become — the suffering and courage of the Spanish people: “My voice is the outraged cry of a people that does not wish to be enslaved . . . In my voice sounds the cry of mothers, the lament of women in bondage, demeaned and scorned.”

A Mother to the Exiles

In her 1984 memoir, IbĂ¡rruri scarcely mentioned the transition from the frenzy of wartime Spain to the routine of Comintern bureaucracy. Instead, from forty-five years’ distance, she defined her role in the USSR in terms of her maternal responsibility to her own children and to all the Spaniards in that country. Offering few details, she emphasized her joyful reunion in Moscow with her children, Amaya and RubĂ©n. Her narrative then moved beyond her intimate circle, as she observed that “in some ways all the exiled Spaniards were my family.”

As she took up the task of mothering the exiles, IbĂ¡rruri depended on her ability to infuse public messages with emotion — something that had long been her trademark. Participating in fewer mass meetings and making fewer public appearances than in Spain, she used her correspondence with the exiles to express political commitments in personal, even intimate terms. She presented herself as the center of a community united by memories of wartime heroism and sacrifices — and by shared hopes for a speedy return to Spain and the defeat of fascism there.IbĂ¡rruri’s popular influence and appeal had less to do with a specifically Communist message than with her powerful — and profoundly gendered — performance of defiance and self-sacrifice.

A review of IbĂ¡rruri’s copious correspondence with the Ă©migrĂ©s provides a glimpse of her self-presentation and its reception and suggests that the role of Iberian mother was more than symbolic. IbĂ¡rruri and her correspondents, both prominent and rank-and-file exiles, who wrote requesting everything from help securing a pension or housing to permission to join the party, took seriously her responsibility for their material and emotional well-being. She did this both as La Pasionaria and, from 1942, as PCE general secretary, after the suicide of her predecessor JosĂ© DĂ­az. After the German invasion of the USSR, a group of Spanish pilots asked her to help them get to the front. In 1944, when a lovelorn comrade asked her to meet with his estranged wife on his behalf, IbĂ¡rruri agreed to try to effect a reconciliation. After the meeting, she bluntly informed the husband that his wife “has ceased to love you,” and advised him to look to “the fulfillment of your duty for some compensation for this lack of affection.”

Dolores IbĂ¡rruri (National Library of France)

While IbĂ¡rruri presented herself as the mother of the exiles, as a party leader she necessarily crossed traditional gender boundaries. And it was in her actions as PCE leader — where the party’s vocal commitment to gender equality met its aggressively masculinist culture — that the trouble began for IbĂ¡rruri in exile. Unlike critics of Romania’s Ana Pauker and Poland’s Wanda Wasilewska — women who shared something like her prominence in the communist movement — those who disparaged IbĂ¡rruri rarely described or derided her as masculine. Instead, they imagined her as an oversexed, out-of-control woman — the black housedress notwithstanding. Her opponents in inner-party power struggles focused on her affair with Francisco AntĂ³n, a political commissar about fifteen years her junior. When the Nazi-Soviet Pact and Hitler’s subsequent invasion of France made possible a prisoner swap to free AntĂ³n, who was being held in a French internment camp, IbĂ¡rruri’s rivals characterized the diplomatic machinations that brought him to Moscow as grounded in vulgar desire, and thus unworthy of a communist.

Abdicated Responsibility?


The question of how best to be a Spanish communist (woman) in the USSR constituted a central theme, both implicit and explicit, of the conflicts within the party leadership that followed the suicide of previous general secretary DĂ­az. The power struggle culminated in 1944, when JesĂºs HernĂ¡ndez, who, along with AntĂ³n, had been dispatched to Mexico the previous year, attempted to turn the Latin American emigration against IbĂ¡rruri. In her memoir, IbĂ¡rruri noted dryly that HernĂ¡ndez “tried to orchestrate a small coup d’Ă©tat” in Mexico but failed to “win the support of fellow Ă©migrĂ©s in Latin America.” But the minutes of the late-night central committee meeting held in May 1944 — which resulted in the expulsion from the party of both HernĂ¡ndez and his ally Enrique Castro Delgado, who was still in Moscow — tell a fuller story.

The minutes of this 1944 showdown offer a rare view of party leaders in action. The archival traces of PCE central committee meetings in this period are often quite scanty. In some cases, the archive provides nothing more than the meetings’ resolutions without any sense of the preceding discussion, in others a general summary of the agenda. By contrast, the record of the May 5, 1944 meeting runs to more than fifty pages and often reads like a verbatim transcript. Both the minutes and Castro’s dissenting retrospective account make clear that the battle hinged on defining what behavior was appropriately “communist” and “Spanish” in the context of exile and war.IbĂ¡rruri defined her role in the USSR in terms of her maternal responsibility to her own children and to all the Spaniards in that country.

Exile magnified the ambiguities in communist normative codes as Spaniards — and IbĂ¡rruri more clearly than most — were torn between different ways of understanding and enacting loyalty to the Spanish cause and their Spanish comrades as well as to Stalin and the socialist fatherland. If her status as Spanish mother bolstered her authority, it also offered powerful grounds for critique and limited her room to maneuver. As IbĂ¡rruri noted in her opening statement at the central committee meeting, her opponents focused on her alleged failure to ensure the welfare of the nearly three thousand children evacuated from Spain to the USSR during the Civil War, and who were now suffering from tuberculosis — this, at a time when the Nazi-Soviet war was generating disease and malnutrition on a massive scale. IbĂ¡rruri’s opponents depicted her as substituting Soviet values for Spanish Communist ones. No longer the protective Iberian mother, IbĂ¡rruri had become, her critics argued in their retrospective narratives, Stalin’s “disciple,” the “priestess of Stalin’s temple” bent on turning Spanish children into “good Bolsheviks.” In their interventions, IbĂ¡rruri’s allies answered these charges with evidence of her maternal abnegation. IbĂ¡rruri’s secretary, Irene FalcĂ³n, did not deny the children’s illness but bore witness “to the fact that Dolores has suffered not as a party leader but as a mother for the misfortunes suffered by each [Spanish] child in the Soviet Union.”

Dolores IbĂ¡rruri with Fidel Castro.

The most caustic disagreements in this debate on communist values centered on how to define communist (feminine) propriety and “normal” communist relations between men and women. IbĂ¡rruri’s supporters linked HernĂ¡ndez’s political crimes to the influence of his wife; he had “fallen,” Juan Modesto explained, “into the hands of an adventuress,” and therefore, far from leading the life of a “party militant,” he was engaging in “orgies, carousing, friendships with noncommunists, and hostility toward his old comrades in struggle,” especially IbĂ¡rruri.

In their memoirs, IbĂ¡rruri’s opponents made analogous accusations, often depicting her alleged abdication of maternal responsibility and transgression of norms of sexual behavior in strikingly malicious — not to say misogynist — terms. HernĂ¡ndez charged that while she let the children suffer, she and her lover lived a life of debauched privilege. Castro described her as a menacing and lustful “Exterminating Angel.” Allowing someone else to put words in his mouth, Castro’s memoir quoted Rafael Vidiella, a Catalan communist, who had testified to a conversation with Castro in which the latter voiced opposition to both IbĂ¡rruri and HernĂ¡ndez. In Castro’s account of the meeting, Vidiella declared that Castro “told me categorically: ‘Dolores is impossible — she’s a woman who reacts with her genitals; HernĂ¡ndez is too frivolous.’” Castro did not specify whether Vidiella reported the conversation accurately, but the picture of IbĂ¡rruri is clear. The minutes recorded only that Vidiella stated his discomfort with hearing Castro say “disagreeable” things about IbĂ¡rruri. Castro did not note IbĂ¡rruri’s rebuttal.While IbĂ¡rruri presented herself as the mother of the exiles, as a party leader she necessarily crossed traditional gender boundaries.

But the central committee record does offer a view of how IbĂ¡rruri attempted to reconcile her intimate relationship with the norms of femininity dominant in the Soviet Union and the Spanish party in exile. Her closing statement as reproduced in the minutes includes a rare — perhaps the only — “public” admission of her (now terminated) relationship with AntĂ³n. If she had a relationship with him, IbĂ¡rruri averred, it was “normal, such as communists have.” Claiming the right to a relationship without specifying what made it “communist,” IbĂ¡rruri echoed earlier Soviet and socialist norms. Associated with both communist practices during the Spanish Civil War and the theories of Alexandra Kollontai and August Bebel, such norms accommodated some measure of “privacy and freedom in sexual relations.”

However, even this minimal “private” feminism proved unsustainable, as it was incompatible with IbĂ¡rruri’s self-representation as the mother of the exiles. In 1977, in the first interview she gave after returning to Spain, following Franco’s death, IbĂ¡rruri denied that her male comrades “tried to limit my work.” But she also characterized them as operating on the assumption that “women are inferior” and that men “are the ones who need to lead and govern.” According to Santiago Carrillo, IbĂ¡rruri’s successor as leader of the PCE, breaking off her relationship with AntĂ³n and renouncing all “personal life” was the price she had to pay to become general secretary. In any event, her political authority did not give her leverage to challenge the dominant norms and practices that opened the “private” lives of both men and women to party scrutiny, but, at least in the case of discussions within the Spanish party, tended to hold women to more rigid standards of sexual conduct. Unable to define her quite decorous sexual emancipation as “normal,” IbĂ¡rruri found herself constrained by the maternal image that authorized her political role.

Stalinist Discipline


By emphasizing the close, often personal, connections between the Spanish and Soviet causes as well as the degree to which Spanish victory depended on Soviet aid and advice, IbĂ¡rruri found more room to maneuver in adapting her continued identification with Spain to the Stalinist cultural environment. The overlap of the Soviet and Spanish causes emerged most powerfully and personally when IbĂ¡rruri’s son RubĂ©n died at the Stalingrad front in September 1942. As the mother of a son who fought in Spain and then died for the cause at this decisive battle, she embodied both the suffering that the Spanish/Soviet cause demanded and hopes for the defeat of fascism in her homeland.IbĂ¡rruri found herself constrained by the maternal image that authorized her political role.

IbĂ¡rruri’s fusion of the Spanish and Soviet causes relied on an idealized and personalized memory of Soviet and international communist aid during the Spanish Civil War as well as a large measure of forgetting. Nowhere was the forgetting clearer than in the 1977 interview, in which the question of arrests in the Soviet Union drew an emphatic response from the eighty-two-year-old IbĂ¡rruri: “If Spaniards were arrested I don’t remember . . . I don’t remember, I don’t remember, what more do you want?” This is a startling lapse given the number of friends and acquaintances, both Spanish and Soviet, who disappeared in the purges. It suggests the persistence of IbĂ¡rruri’s Stalinism, her party discipline, or perhaps self-delusion. Her unwillingness or inability to remember arrests can also be understood as the obverse of her powerful memory of the Spanish Civil War. It is useful to contrast IbĂ¡rruri’s vehement forgetting with her 1975 letter to American communist Steve Nelson, who served as a political commissar in the International Brigades in Spain, on the occasion of his seventy-second birthday. Here, she insisted that neither time nor distance could dim the memory of his commitment to the liberation of the Spanish people. Writing from the USSR, she evoked an international community linked to Moscow but also defining itself in terms of memories, sorrows, and dreams rooted in Spain.

IbĂ¡rruri’s efforts in exile to fashion herself as the maternal heart of this community illustrates the power of conceptualizing international communism as structured around the interconnected and diverse lives of individual communists. Her case also highlights the importance of understanding international communism in terms of everyday practices. In Moscow, she worked to reconcile and apply norms of communist (female) behavior developed in the relatively open environment of western communism — and in the extreme circumstances of war — to Stalin’s Russia and the challenges of political exile. Her story confirms that for international communists, communism was more than an institution or a political creed; it was a way of life. Forging political and personal networks in and beyond Moscow, people like IbĂ¡rruri made international communism, although never just as they pleased.

This article reprints with permission portions of Lisa A. Kirschenbaum, “Exile, Gender, and Communist Self-Fashioning: Dolores IbĂ¡rruri (La Pasionaria) in the Soviet Union,” Slavic Review 71, no. 3 (Fall 2012): 566–89.S

Lisa A. Kirschenbaum is professor of history at West Chester University. She writes and teaches about modern Russia and the Soviet Union, war and memory, international communism, and gender in modern Europe.



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