Sunday, April 20, 2025

Neofeudalism Arrives as Capitalism Departs? 

April 18, 2025
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Stained glass, Poynter Room, V&A Museum. Photo: Jeffrey St. Clair.

As a gap between billionaires and everybody else swells, a bipartisan project decades in the making, Jodi Dean, author and professor, considers if we are living through a change in the form of capitalism into what she terms “neofeudalism,” writing in Capital’s Grave (Verso Books, 2025). The book’s title is a reference to a line in The Communist Manifesto about the class relations of capitalism creating its fatal contradictions: “What the bourgeoisie (the capitalist class) therefore produces, above all, are its own gravediggers.” Yes, this process has yet to bear fruit.

While beginning to read Dean’s new book, I questioned her thesis that feudalism is emerging from capitalism in 2025. Current events in part shaped my thinking. For instance, President Trump’s global trade tariffs are showing the central role that the production and circulation of commodities are to world commerce, upon which finance and tech platforms that exploit consumers and workers depend.

Then there is a central feature of capitalism: unequal relations between employers and employees. That links to the ties between the employed and unemployed. Suffice it to say that these relationships are baked into capitalism, with this takeaway. Feudalism as a labor system that existed for centuries lacked unemployment as a permanent feature. Under feudalism, there was economic security within a hierarchy of ruling lords and ruled serfs. Meanwhile, capitalism uses joblessness to hold wage-income down by pitting the employed against the unemployed. That division intersects with racism and sexism, as American employers pay nonwhite and women workers less than their male counterparts.

Dean’s thesis is that the capitalist class is shifting from making commodities for profits to taking labor income from workers on digital platforms via charges, fees and rents to accumulate monopoly profits. Consider intellectual property rights that the federal government grants to Big Tech and Big Pharma, for example, allowing these monopolized industries to charge market prices that can and do exceed the actual costs of production. Take pharmaceutical companies that make costly cancer medications. Accordingly, a cancer diagnosis and subsequent treatment is a path to bankruptcy and poverty, thanks to the for-profit U.S. health care industry.

I do find Dean’s analysis in her first chapter, What the Grundrisse Tells Us About Uber, persuasive. The rideshare company grabs, in a feudal way, income from its contract drivers. They are free for exploitation, somewhat like the former peasants were free to leave the colonized countryside of Ireland to migrate to England to be wage labor as commodity producers there. She shows, convincingly, how Uber, a platform company, frees its drivers for exploitation in ways that depart from the employer playbook in plants. There, employers own the machinery that employees use to take the value in commodities priced higher than labor wage-income. Employers can extend and intensify the labor process to increase their taking of the value that workers produce.

As Dean details, Uber drivers own their vehicles and must pay to operate them. Drivers’ expenses range from gas and oil to maintenance and insurance. Platform employers such as Uber effectively govern drivers’ access to the marketplace of riders. In contrast, factory employees from the 19th century on do not own the machines they use. Employers, then and now, are the machine owners.

This distinction brings me from agreement with Dean over changes in technological development to disagreement with her defining that change as a new or neofeudal departure in the global system of capitalism. As I see things from the belly of an American empire in economic decline, the rise of platform employers complements industrial commodity production for profit abroad. The low-priced goods, for example, available to low-wage shoppers at Wal-Mart, Inc. stores stateside, are there because of the capitalist exploitation of workers as an industrial labor force in the Global South, mainly China, but also nations such as Bangladesh, Pakistan and Vietnam, where wages are low versus U.S. workers. Arghiri Emmanuel analyzed this process of high wages in developed nations and low wages in developing countries in terms of unequal exchange, a theory based on Marx’s concept of value. Low wages that labor receives producing commodities in the Global South in part create higher profit rates flowing to corporations in the Global North. Just ask the CEO of Apple Inc.

Unequal exchange explains why America’s capitalist class shifted industrial production from manufacturing states such as Ohio, Michigan and Pennsylvania abroad. There are several takeaways. One is that the Chinese Communist Party is winning the global race of capitalist for-profit commodity production. This is an irony of world history. Uncle Sam under Presidents Biden and Trump can threaten China militarily over Taiwan, and most recently, the latter can increase a sales tax, or tariff, on that nation. However, that fails to reindustrialize the U.S., as President Trump and those before him have promised and failed to deliver. Imposing tariffs on U.S. trading partners does, however, harm bond and stock markets and consumer confidence. Dean points to neofeudalism as a culprit, in part, with its tech-driven form and corresponding government-guided interventions on display. I prefer the idea that capital itself is the main barrier to its growth imperative. Consider the limits of the planet to sustain human life in the face of climate chaos due to rising sea levels and other weather-related crises from spiking carbon emissions.

Dean lays out, in chapter three, Neofeudalism’s Basic Features, some changes in the state form guiding capital accumulation. The continuity is that the capitalist class controls the state. Its main role is to guide the accumulation of capital in the class that rules, economically and politically. Dean writes, “The fiction of a political system anchored in the rule of law and an economic system following capitalist laws of motion gives way to networked private relations in which power and privilege reign.” Where she sees change, I see continuity. Case in point is America’s industrial mobilization for World War 2. What else was that but a demonstration of a state-guided plan for private industry to alter and then, in the postwar period (Marshall Plan), to resume capitalist laws of motion under a legal regime of political power? President Trump’s tariffs on U.S. trading partners are also a case of exercising political power to benefit billionaires and harm everyone else. This is capitalism, from the bowels of which can emerge fascism.

I did like her conclusion that service workers are the vanguard of social change for human and planetary sustainability. The rise of service employment that pays low wages is, of course, characteristic of former industrial-dominant nations such as the U.S. Dean points to nurses and schoolteachers as service workers whose withholding of their labor with strike actions shows us how to build class solidarity. As these striking workers have shown in deed and word, their labor conditions are organically connected to the people who they serve. Teachers’ labor conditions are students’ learning conditions, as authors Diane Ravitch and Mercedes K. Schneider have written. Likewise, nurses’ labor conditions are also dependent on workplace standards that shape patient care. According to Dean, and I concur, given the political economy of the U.S., service workers whose daily labor employers can’t totally automate are strategically situated to change relations for the better between the capitalist class and everybody else. Thus a “service vanguard,” as she terms this fraction of the working class, is an emerging revolutionary force. That and the provision of universal basic services are tools in the revolutionary toolkit that Dean favors. I do as well.

For some, the term revolution can strike fear. Revolutionaries are coming to steal from me! Wait. I offer the following. Bear with me. I return, as Dean does in the opening of her book under review, to The Communist Manifesto, now nearly 175 years old.

Capitalists are the revolutionary class. They, and not labor in that brief but powerful work, are constantly revolutionizing society’s mode of production, or MOP. The MOP combines the production relations between bosses and workers plus the means of production (machinery and technology). The motive is profit. There is nothing new here under the imperatives of the profit motive. When the working class intervenes for reasons of sustainable life and work, the revolutionary agent can change from capital to labor. When we serve each other in ways that sustain life and the planet, humanity can advance to a higher condition of civilization.

War, a leading cause of ecocide, no more. Billionaires banished, once we get back what they have stolen from us. Dean’s new book delivers critical insights on humanity and society, some of which I differ with, but others on which we agree. Readers can judge for themselves.

Seth Sandronsky is a Sacramento journalist and member of the freelancers unit of the Pacific Media Workers Guild. Email sethsandronsky@gmail.com


The American Paradox


 April 18, 2025
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Citi Field and NYC skyline. Photo: Elliot Sperber.

On April 14, 1775, the first organization dedicated to the abolition of slavery in North America was founded in Philadelphia.

On April 14, 2025, exactly 250 years after the founding of the Pennsylvania Abolition Society (and nearly 160 years after the ratification of the 13th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution), Donald Trump announced to the world that he has the power to kidnap anyone, citizen or not, and deprive them of all legal personhood, turn them into slave-like objects, and render them to what is essentially a death camp.

Someone innocent of any wrongdoing, Kilmar Armando Abrego Garcia, whom the United States Supreme Court ruled must be returned to the U.S., can be dehumanized, transformed from a legal subject, and imprisoned in a concentration camp in El Salvador beyond all legal scrutiny, according to Trump and his accomplices. Neither innocence nor the Constitution nor citizenship will protect one from this extraordinary rendition. As Trump put it: “homegrowns are next.” This is where we are.

Every person in power and every journalist who has bent over for Trump, as well as for his predecessors, over all these years has deformed themselves into a section of a monstrous bridge, a bridge Trump has walked along right into the position of a dictator. Now he and his accomplices are not only destroying the livable world in general, heating and polluting it, in denial of all planetary and ecological limits, as mass extinction and ecological catastrophe flare all about us. He is also blatantly sending whomever he capriciously desires to death camps, enriching himself and his class in the process, destroying the worlds of countless people.

It is still too early to tell how the people of the United States will respond to Trump’s totalitarian power grab, nor how far Trump will go to suppress resistance. Not only are his executive orders nakedly unconstitutional and illegal, they also violate deeply rooted principles of justice and social norms that are hostile to tyranny. Moreover, these norms are bound with a civic identity rooted in the violent rejection of a tyrannical king — King George III who, as a limited, constitutional monarch at the time of this nation’s founding, had less power than Trump claims to have today, and whose abuses mostly involved imposing taxes and limiting territorial expansion, abuses that pale in comparison to Trump’s. The relatively minor tyranny of King George, however, led to revolutionary war.

Indeed, on April 19, 1775, a mere five days after the formation of the Pennsylvania Abolition Society in Philadelphia, fighting broke out in Lexington, Concord, and other sites in Massachusetts between colonists and the redcoats of the British imperial army. Though the causes were complex, the first battles of what would come to be recognized as the American Revolution were in large part animated by a spirit kindred to that of the abolitionists in Philadelphia. Both opposed tyranny. Both opposed the rule of an order whose force, along with an outdated sense of tradition, comprised its main justification. Both thought better reasons, rooted in something like mutual care and a fidelity to critical thought, ought to regulate the lives and societies of humankind. Both thought human dignity demanded that human beings govern themselves, according to the rule of law, not some ridiculous monarch.

As we approach the 250th anniversary of the Battles of Lexington and Concord, it would be a repudiation of this spirit of equality and democracy, a spirit that legitimizes the United States itself, to not forcefully reject Trump’s declaration of dictatorship. And yet, this spirit of democracy has from the beginning been accompanied by a countervailing spirit, a genocidal spirit of slave owners, imperialists and white supremacists not inconsistent with Trump’s. These two form the American Contradiction, a contradiction that saw the democratic and egalitarian impulses of the Revolution checked by the plutocratic and imperialist designs of the U.S. Constitution.

As Luther Martin, one of the lesser-known Constitutional Framers and a slaveowner himself, put it: slavery “was inconsistent with the principles of the [American] revolution and dishonorable to the American character to have such a feature in the Constitution.” And yet the Constitution, protecting slavery, and designed to further and secure empire, became the law of the land.

Even the mass death of the U.S. Civil War less than a century later was insufficient to extinguish this contradiction; a contradiction that accepted the reforms of the New Deal, and the Civil Rights Movement of the 1950s and 60s, among others, only begrudgingly because these were imperative to maintaining the imperial order — the rule of plutocratic force as opposed to the exception of equality and justice. And perhaps this American Contradiction leads ultimately to what we can describe as the American Paradox: that America can’t truly become America until it stops being America. Perhaps it’s already no longer America. Maybe it hasn’t ever been. And if it hasn’t ever been, it cannot be restored. To realize its deepest values, then, its legitimizing truth, it must become what it was so long mistaken for, a New World — beyond borders, beyond exploitation and profit, beyond war — a new world altogether.

Elliot Sperber is a writer, attorney, and adjunct professor. He lives in New York City and can be reached at elliot.sperber@gmail.com and on twitter @elliot_sperber


Nationalism: The Measles of Mankind


April 18, 2025
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Image by Filip Bunkens.

I’ve never really understood the psychology of nationalism. Even when I was in elementary school and we were supposed to pledge our allegiance to “the flag and the country (USA) for which it stands” I was skeptical. What exactly did this pledge entail, I wondered as my classmates and I stood with our hands over our hearts, repeating words most of my classmates gave little thought to. As the years rolled on and the US war on Vietnam and elsewhere took over more of my consciousness, my questions became outright rejection; I couldn’t go along with the idea that people should go kill and die for the USA. If there was no nationalism, then friends just a couple years older than I would not be going off to boot camp, many of them willingly and with the complete support of their families and community. But what about the Vietnamese nationalists? Weren’t they the same as “American” patriots? When my father asked me this question during one of our innumerable debates, I was stumped. As I considered an answer—which took a few weeks of reading to come up with—other questions arose. What was the relationship between nationalism and empire? How was a struggle for national liberation different from nationalism? The Black Panthers talked about revolutionary nationalism versus cultural nationalism and considered the former a legitimate form of revolutionary struggle. The other, which was often described as “pork-chop nationalism,” was seen as diversionary and catering to the ruling class. In 1975, a friend who worked with the Revolutionary Union suggested that one could support national liberation groups in their struggle against the colonizer/imperialist power as part of the necessary struggle against imperialism. Such support did not require agreeing with all of the actions of the national liberation forces after their victory, should that occur. The thinking was that with each defeat of imperialism, the end of nationalism would get closer. We have yet to verify the truth of this concept.

Last autumn, historian Eric Storm’s comprehensive history of nationalism was published. Titled Nationalism: A World History, the text examines the phenomenon of nationalism, tracing its origins back to feudal times and following its journey to the present when, in spite of predictions announcing its end, nationalism seems more of a force than ever. In making that statement, this reviewer doesn’t necessarily think that this is a good thing. The book is a worthwhile undertaking, discussing nationalism in a variety of contexts, including its ethnic and political roots. The role of religion in certain nationalisms is considered, as is the role of empire. The fact that the division of the world into the system of nations we consider as permanent coincided with the development of capitalism in both national and global terms is mentioned, but Storm does not delve too deep into the nature of that relationship. In fact, he does not delve deeply into the possible causes of nationalism’s ultimate victory in deciding how the world is perceived by its human inhabitants. Instead, he finds plenty to write about its manifestations and structure. That turns out to be interesting enough. To be fair, Storm writes that the institution of capitalism has a “deep but variegated bond with nationalism” and that it has mostly benefited the bourgeois classes over the course of modern history.

In writing about nationalism’s manifestations, Storm establishes three categories he recognizes as primary elements of nationalism that are present in each phase of history he describes in the book. Those three categories center on the nature of citizenship, the nationalization of culture and the nationalization of physical space. The first element citizenship is pretty straightforward: who is a citizen and who is not according to the state. Those who are not considered citizens risk the bureaucratic cancellation of their rights as long as they live in a nation they are not considered part of. Stateless persons—the Jews under Nazism and many if not most Palestinians today arre good examples—find themselves completely subject to the whims of power. Likewise, the nature of one’s citizenship can determine one’s fate; for example, the idea of a “birthright” citizen in the United States is currently under attack, as are naturalized citizens. The category of culture considers the historical and cultural mythologies that the nationalists have determined will tell the story of the nation being built. These include folk tales and music along with more formal representations of the identity the nations considers its own. As for the nationalization of physical space, its manifestations can be national parks and certain government and private buildings (the US Capitol, Versailles, Yellowstone. They also include monuments and statues, the latter often being representations of historical figures whose lives have been mythologized. George Washington and Ho Chi Minh are ideal examples of this in their roles as the so-called fathers of their countries.

Mostly an objective read, the text tends to give the United States something of a pass when discussing its colonialist adventures. Characterizing the recent secessionist attempts in eastern Ukraine as “fake” and Russia’s invasion imperialist immediately after writing about the US invasion of Iraq as perhaps imperialist in nature illustrates this point quite glaringly. Meanwhile, Storm is very straightforward when criticizing Russia and China, This results in the overall attempt at objectivity to fall short.

The philosopher Erich Fromm once wrote that “Nationalism is our form of incest, is our idolatry, is our insanity. ‘Patriotism’ is its cult…Just as love for one individual which excludes the love for others is not love, love for one’s country which is not part of one’s love for humanity is not love, but idolatrous worship.” The truth of this statement is present across the globe. From Tel Aviv to Washington, DC, Moscow to Kyiv, the idolatrous worship of this thing called a country continues to stain and define human relations in a manner one would think humanity would have shed. Eric Storm’s exhaustive history explains—intentionally or not—why humanity has done no such thing.

(The title of this peace is taken from a quote attributed to Albert Einstein: “Nationalism is an infantile disease. It is the measles of mankind.”)

Ron Jacobs is the author of several books, including Daydream Sunset: Sixties Counterculture in the Seventies published by CounterPunch Books. His latest book, titled Nowhere Land: Journeys Through a Broken Nation, is now available. He lives in Vermont. He can be reached at: ronj1955@gmail.com


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