Thursday, June 26, 2025

Tokugawa Amerika



 June 25, 2025

Photograph by Nathaniel St. Clair

War movies are not a favored genre in the United States these days. But there are exceptions that make it big in the box office. One is Blackhawk Down, directed by Scott Ridley, which depicted the big, botched raid to capture General Aidid in 1992 that ended with the bodies of U.S. Rangers being dragged through the streets of Mogadishu. The other is more recent, Alex Garland and Ray Mendoza’s Warfare.  These two popular films have one thing in common: they depict hubris and arrogance that end in chaotic defeat.

The popularity of these two films that are almost masochistic in their celebration of defeat is indicative of a larger social fact in the United States today—that there is no popular base for war, whether on the left, the center, the right, or the far right.  The only ones rooting for military intervention and confrontation are the liberal internationalists, like Joe Biden and Barack Obama, and the neoconseratives, like Dick Cheney, who came together in the disastrous campaign to elect Kamala Harris president, and they are in total disarray.  It was not only Biden’s horrible debate performance that sealed his and Harris’s fate. It was partly their unrelenting support for Israel’s war in Gaza.

Equally important were their open-ended commitment to NATO’s war in Ukraine and their beating the drums of war in the Pacific.  When Biden had all the other NATO heads of state join him onstage to pledge themselves to fight to the last Ukrainian during that fateful press conference last July, my reaction was that he was not only mentally dysfunctional, as revealed by his calling Zelensky Putin, but totally out of synch with the electorate when it came to foreign policy.

The End of Class Collaboration

One of the key reasons for the lack of a base for imperial war is something that Utsa and Prabhat Patnaik, authors of Capital and Imperialism, enlighten us on in their dissection of the relationships that made the British Empire function for an extended period:

The functioning of the price system, in short, was such that a rise in workers’ share in the gross value of output could be accommodated without a decline in capitalists’ share through a squeeze on the share of the primary commodity producers. It is not some category of ‘super-profits’ but the very modus operandi of the system that accommodates workers at the expense of primary commodity producers, and imperialism is the entire arrangement that makes this possible.

The Patnaiks stress that this accommodation of the metropolitan working class must be seen not just in distributive terms, but also in terms of other mechanisms, such as state-led demand management that can function as a substitute external to the system for squeezing the colonies once they have ceased to exist.

In the post-colonial arrangement that prevailed after the Second World War, Keynesian state-led demand management became the substitute for pacifying the working class in the metropolis, with continual real rises in working class income coupled with parallel rises in the the rate of profit that were kept in balance partly by the high marginal tax rates imposed on the rich. It was in this context, the so-called Golden Age of Capitalism, that President John  F Kennedy could make that classic statement of imperial cross-class consensus in his inaugural address in January 1961, “Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe to assure the survival and the success of liberty.”

The material and social conditions that allowed Kennedy to assume he had ordinary Americans behind him in his crusade in Vietnam and efforts to overthrow Fidel Castro no longer exist because, by gutting the state of its demand-management functions, the capitalist class imposed neoliberalism on the American masses as surely as the IMF and the World Bank imposed structural adjustment on the Global South. For the last four decades, income stagnation,  greater income inequality, greater indebtedness, and the housing crisis so evident in San Francisco and so many other American cities have been the lot of ordinary Americans, a great number of whom are a central part of the MAGA (Make America Great Again) base. In short, the universal imposition of structural adjustment from the 1980s on deprived capital of that relatively privileged metropolitan white working class base necessary to support the imposition of imperial order both internationally and domestically.

Imperial Defeats

The absence of state-led demand management as an external prop is not, however, the only reason for the inability of the the capitalist class to provide both the energy and legitimacy to engage in imperial adventures. The fact is that, over the last four decades, the empire was dealt defeat in three critical fronts. In analyzing these struggles, two things must be emphasized: the agency of the Global South in accounting for these defeats and the way these struggles shaped the current politics of the U.S. working class.

One front was the relationship between U.S. capital and the Chinese Communist Party. To cut a long story short, China got the better of the United States in the devil’s deal it cut with U.S. capital, which was to acquire foreign capital, markets, and advanced technology necesssary for a forced march industrialization in exchange for offering labor that was 2-5 percent of the price of U.S. labor. For millions of American workers, this contract between the transnational corporations and the Chinese Communist Party blessed by Washington translated into massive deindustrialization and the loss of millions of relatively high paying manufacturing jobs. Although China might have been portrayed as the distant beneficiary of this wrenching process, U.S. transnationals were actually experienced by workers as the real villains.

The second front was the successful resistance of the developing country governments and global civil society to the effort of the United States and the European Union to institutionalize the radical pro-corporate global trading system via the World Trade Organization, a project that included the WTO’s becoming the agent of the Global North’s monopoly of advanced technologies, the arbiter of investment, competition policy, and state investment and procurement policies. Hundreds of thousands American workers, notably those in unions, gained a sense of agency through their participation in the successful effort to derail not just the WTO but  also the Free Trade of the Americas and the Transpacific Partnership (TPP), and they would not forget that one of Trump’s first acts in office on January 21, 2017, was, owing to their resistance, to take the United States out of the TPP negotiations.

The third front was the spectacular defeat of the 20-year-long U.S. drive to reshape global politics via military means through its invasion of Afghanistan and Iraq. For most Americans, this experience was akin to Moses and the Israelites wandering for 40 years in the Sinai without ending up in the Promised Land of a supremacist America. In this regard, though I certainly was repelled ethically by his methods, we must nevertheless give the devil his due, as they say, and credit Osama bin Laden for his central role in baiting the Bush Jr administration into its unwinnable wars in the Middle East, for being the figure who translated into reality Che Guevara’s vision of creating a hundred Vietnams to disperse and debilitate imperial power. Individuals cannot simply be regarded as personifications of objective social forces—a perspective shared by most orthodox social scientists. Individuals do count and some, in fact, have an outsized imprint on history, their actions serving as the trigger that moves it from one track to another. Bin Laden is one of those figures who deserve the description “Napoleonic.” As Nelly Lahoud, the U.S. intelligence analyst who came out with the most detailed study of the inner workings of al-Qaeda under bin Laden’s direction, conceded, “Though the 9/11 attacks turned out to be a Pyrrhic victory for al-Qaeda, Osama still changed the world and continued to influence global politics for nearly a decade after.”

If the United States is the confused and groping global power with a sick economy that it is today—one that has been, moreover, reduced to a dog being wagged by the Zionist tail, a relationship illustrated by Netanyahu’s push in recent days to get a reluctant Trump to bomb Iran—it is, not to an insignificant degree, due to bin Laden.

The MAGA movement is a product of the four decades-long crisis of capitalism and imperialism. From a progressive standpoint, it has a number of contradictory features. It is, to use Althusser’s term, an “overdetermined contradiction” that combines the worst racist, ethnocentric, and anti-intellectual impulses with deep disdain for the neoliberal, pro-globalization initiatives and interventionist, warmongering policies of the liberal and neoconservative internationalists that have controlled policymaking over the last 80 years.  Trump plays mainly to this base, and he knows that any hint of going to war or engaging in direct intervention would mean the unravelling of his presidency, as it was of Biden’s reign and Kamala Harris’s campaign. Trump has realized far more astutely than the neoliberals and neocons that the empire is vastly overextended and there is no mass constituency for imperialism.

Global competition for markets, land, and resources is a structural feature of capitalism, but there are countervailing pressures to capitalism and imperialism’s thrust towards war, and one of these forces is the absence of  social base willing to go to war for capital.

David Hutt, a keen observer of Trump’s foreign policy has described him as a “pathological pacifist,” that is, “for Trump, all wars are scams. They are started by politicians for personal vanity and financial gain, and are fought by ‘suckers tricked into caring about things like patriotism and freedom.”

Imperial Retrenchment

I would not go as far as characterizing Trump as a pathological pacifist, but, as I told a conference of American Southeast Asia experts nostalgic for the good old days of interventionist liberal internationalism at a conference at Columbia University last March, Trump is moving from an open-ended commitment to confronting threats to capital everywhere to selective engagement or a spheres-of-influence strategy, something I have also called “defensive imperialism.” Latin America is seen as part of the Western Hemisphere’s core of the empire, and this is definitely bad for us in the Global South. Eastern Europe is seen as Russia’s sphere of influence, Western Europe is left on its own, Washington continues its retreat from Middle East, the one constant being its support for Israel, Africa becomes even more marginal to U.S. interests, and South Asia is most likely seen as being in China’s sphere of influence, despite Trump’s ideological affinity with India’s Modi.

The Asia Pacific is likely seen as China’s sphere of influence, so the South Korean, Japanese, and Philippine governments are right to worry that Trump may be entertaining some grand deal with China and North Korea that could lead to a significant reduction of the U.S. military and political presence in the area. Trump, it must be remembered, upended all expectations and shook the liberal internationalists and neoconservatives to the core when he crossed the thirty-eighth parallel to pat Kim Jong Un on the back in 2019.

Maintaining a global military presence is something that is very costly. The United States has 750 military bases all over the world, and it costs at least $67 billion a year to keep them functioning. Key figures on the far right, such as Steve Bannon and Vice President J.D. Vance, want to radically reduce this military profile, and they are extremely influential with the MAGA base, which is isolationist and no longer wants to be dragged into new foreign adventures in support of U.S. allies that this people feel have had a free ride at the expense of ordinary Americans.

Inevitable Pullback

To focus on the Asia Pacific,  the United States will increasingly be transactional in its dealings with Japan, South Korea, the Philippines, and Taiwan, and U.S. forces in these areas will be increasingly seen less as protectors of ideological allies than as pure mercenaries with little common interest with the locals, making them more and more an intolerable burden, as in Okinawa. The process may, like the Roman withdrawal from Britain in the Fifth century CE, take decades, but the thrust is unmistakeable: the eventual pullback of the legions east of the international date line, much like the British pullback from East of Suez in the years following the Suez fiasco in 1956.

The Korean and Japanese elites realize this and are not fooled into thinking Trump’s approach is simply transactional; they know his ultimate game is strategic withdrawal. They and other global actors know that this political-military thrust goes hand and glove with Trump’s economic strategy, which is to disengage globally while creating a techno-economic Fortress America aimed at keeping foreign goods out, bringing back and padlocking U.S. capital, hoarding knowledge by keeping foreign students out, and preventing the entry of migrants from what he calls “shithole countries,” meaning us. It’s not quite Tokugawa Japan or the Hermit Kingdom of the Jeoson Dynasty in Korea, but it’s close.

Of course, Trump could be derailed, as he was after his first term. But the disengagement train is likely to get back on track since his base as well as most of those outside his base share his assessment that the empire is vastly overextended.

Long Overdue

The pullback of the empire to its North American core is largely a positive development from the perspective of the Asia Pacific, since we Asians will have to begin to work out our relations with one another instead of having Washington be the central actor determining our relations with our neighbors. I speak in particular of the U.S. protectorates of Japan, South Korea, and the Philippines in their relations with China, Southeast Asia, and South Asia.

The unfolding of this natural outcome of our evolution as societies that was derailed by 400 years of European colonial intrusion, followed by 175 years of American imperial disruption, is long overdue.

Walden Bello, a columnist for Foreign Policy in Focus,  is the author or co-author of 19 books, the latest of which are Capitalism’s Last Stand? (London: Zed, 2013) and State of Fragmentation: the Philippines in Transition (Quezon City: Focus on the Global South and FES, 2014).


Marx in America



 June 26, 2025
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Image by Hennie Stander.

Andrew Hartman, Karl Marx in America. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2025. 572pp, $39.00

Back in the 1890s, when American Marxism was young, some socialist intellectuals in the US had already begun to complain that the American Left just did not understand what Marx had written. Louis B. Boudin (still called “Budynov”), later to write a noted defense of Capital and still later a three volume history of American law, must have stunned Yiddish readers of the Tsukunft (“the future”) with his claims made in strident tones. Or not: in the midst of the 1890s literary conflict between Yiddish anarchist and Marxist publications in the Lower East Side, everybody seemed to enjoy a good scrap.

If the US, the most industrially advanced nation, nevertheless lacked a working class grasping for Marxist ideas and socialist transformation, something had to be wrong, but what was it? Andrew Hartman has written a very large and interesting book full of people and ideas, very much within this framework, making choices sometimes inevitable to the subject, sometimes bewildering to this reviewer. It is not necessarily a criticism of this reviewer—the author of Marxism in the US and co-editor of the Encyclopedia of the American Left—to remark that I have seen (and lived within) a different American Marxism. I hope the reader will indulge me as I describe this other Marxism a bit, along the way.

Non-US anti-Marxists whose ideas have arrived, stayed, departed or not among steadfast conservatives and repentant former Marxists alike, find a place in Karl Marx in America, but many Americans writing about Marx or attracted to Marx seem oddly missing here. The author of The Theoretical System of Karl Marx—so admired at the time that even the Germans produced their own translation—Boudin would be among the prominently missing. Likewise, on the other side of the fence, the late Hoover Institute savant, Bertram D. Wolfe, whose insightful Marx and America (1934) made a splash in his days when his group, the Lovestoneites, had not yet defected to CIA-financed activities in the global labor movement.

Boudin’sand Wolfe’s successors have, at any rate, been at it ever since and even continue today, with a familiar conclusion: if only Americans had REALLY understood Marx, the history of the Left would surely have been very different. Neither Boudin, Wolfe nor a score of other Marx-pondering writers admired in their own time appear in Hartman’s research, yet their intended point seems to hang in the air throughout the book.

With deep sincerity and what is obviously his own chosen chunk of this story, Hartman adds to it a larger context, twice over: Marx’s role in the US via his own writings, and secondly, the various ways that notable non-socialist, including anti-socialist, mostly hawkish Cold War intellectuals have understood or misunderstood him. He has a lot to say. I regret that he stays within this mainstream, notably leaving aside the voices of ethnic, that is to say, immigrant socialist intellectuals, very often the ones with the largest working class audience.

How the readers of the German-American press admired the Marxist expositions of Herman Schlüter, long-time editor of the daily New Yorker Volkszeitung, in his newspaper and a book or two (including the first history of the Marxist socialist movement in the US, Die Erste Internationale in America)! And how the Yiddish readers of the Morgan Frayhayt, voice of the Yiddish Left, loved to read the Marxist writings of Paul (Pesach) Novick, who lasted long enough for me to visit him, still hard at work in the newspaper office, at age 91. These, and their many counterparts among Slavs, Hungarians, Finns and others were truly Marxists On the Job, their communities and cultural clubhouses places where working people talked about Marxism and the conditions of their own lives.

Hartman touches heavily upon radical celebrities like John Reed, an admitted intellectual lightweight whose reportage and personal example nevertheless stand the test of time. So many literary celebrities, in particular, that his list seem to becomes more arbitrary. Thus journalist-novelist Vivian Gornick along with CPUSA heavy William Z. Foster, and even Hungarian-American artist Hugo Gellert, who I was lucky enough to interview in his advanced age. Small joke: among Gellert’s stellar, presumably Marxist-influenced comrades in the Hungarian-American Left of the 1920s-40s, Bela Bartok and Bela Lugosi, do not appear here. I am only having a little fun with the categories. Marilyn Monroe and Lucille Ball really were also attracted to socialist ideas and…I leave my own, further celebrity-left list here, reluctantly.

Hartman gives sufficient credit to the early Sidney Hook (among the first to draw conclusions from Marx’s “Economic-Philosophical Manuscripts,” published in German) and too much to popularizers like Reinhold Niebuhr, who, like Hook, turned hard right. His judgment of the Popular Front writers (he rightly includes F.O. Matthiesson) misses the most influential ones: screenwriters whose Wartime features sought to encompass Marx’s legacy within hopes for democracy or (after 1946) the very noir reality of postwar life in a troubled consumer society.

Were their Popular Front-shaped, occasionally Oscar-winning films less successful in delving the American democratic saga than Matthiesson? And what about the hidden scriptwriters of television’s “You Are There?” and “The Adventures of Robin Hood?” Marxists, all. If Hartman could be magically transferred to the Marxist study classes of Hollywood of the late 1930s and early 1940s, he would surely be surprised. And illuminated enough to ask whether the popular culture activists and creators on the Left, right down to Zero Mostel, Harry Belafonte and Tony Kushner, were not the real (crypto) Marxists.

But this is, after all, a book about book (and essay) writers grown prestigious enough to have their comments on Marxism taken seriously in the prestige press. Thus we find Edmund Wilson, Max Eastman, Dwight Macdonald, Daniel Bell and among many others, including some of the worst Cold War hacks, like the very shallow Clinton Rossiter.

It is striking that Hartman comes across the unpublished (in his lifetime) book length essay by CLR James, “American Civilization,” c.1950, really the outline of a book that James would not complete, thanks largely to awaiting expulsion on a passport violation decades earlier. Notwithstanding real insights, notwithstanding my almost fan-like admiration of him (as his authorized biographer), James missed important details about the American world around him. He would have been shocked, perhaps even horrified, to learn that so many of his favorite films and radio shows—in his view reflecting the truly democratic ethos of ordinary Americans—had been written by the dreaded “Stalinists” of Popular Front circles, themselves already in 1950 going on the Blacklist at the same time a James was being expelled. A keen thinker but short-time resident of the US, 1938-50, James badly misunderstood what had been made of Marx’s legacies.

More oddly, for me, Hartman seems to go into high gear with the Cold War. Whittaker Chambers, destined (perhaps) for a statue on the White House patio, spoke for a legion of others: they had learned the error of the youthful ways, and made a grand career of it, details be damned. For conservatives then and now, Marx was the prophet of an evil religion, expunging the deity for the false promise of an unattainable (and undesirable) levelling of human inequalities.

I am not so pleased that important Marxist literary scholars like Alan Wald are swept aside, but happy to see that Angela Davis gets some serious treatment as a creative thinker. I do not grasp what the great reactionary Polish liberal, Leszak Kolakowsky, is doing here at all, as I had never grasped why Straussian economics found a place earlier in the book. Karl Marx’s America increasingly slips into global debates about Marxism in the Cold War era, when the pages might better have been spent on the rethinking of Marxist tenets for instance, as inventive socialists viewed the Cuban Revolution, the rise and assasination of Malcolm X, the Vietnam War, the great and continuing debate about Zionism among Jewish Marxists and others, and so on. And if Leslie Silko’s very fine novels come into a study of Marx’s impact, where do we find other novelists, poets and filmmakers who were equally touched and moved?

Hartman does not finally come to terms with the contradiction in Werner Sombart’s famous argument, offered around the turn of the twentieth century, that the sheer prosperity (“roast beef”) of the American working class made a successful socialist movement impossible. The sharpest division of best-paid and worst-paid workers in the world, the racial hierarchy, the geographical mobility and lack of historical roots that gave European socialists a basis for a movement….none of these, nor the fact of an expanding US empire, seemed to have reached Sombart’s consciousness as keys to the supposed contradiction.

The working class as a central category of Marxism has drifted downward somewhere here, although we are not so sure. Hartman also misses an important opportunity for clarification based on generations of labor, gender and race scholarship, as he retreats into intellectual history. Herbert Gutman and David Montgomery cannot be found in the index. These moving figures in US social history and working class history had been trained Marxists, and made no secret of it.

Toward the end of the book, beyond the dubious writings of Moishe Poston, a Cold War intellectual whose early interest in Marx turned into a late faith in Israel, we come to a more thoughtful conclusion. A rush toward the present, from Howard Zinn and Fredric Jameson to British SciFi writer China Mieville, leaves the reader with the sense that Hartman really wants to say: Marx does not go away. It’s a good message, even if it took an awful lot of pages to get there.

Paul Buhle is a retired historian, and co-founder, with Scott Molloy, of an oral history project on blue collar Rhode Islanders.