Showing posts sorted by relevance for query ENGELS. Sort by date Show all posts
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Tuesday, April 07, 2020


April 4, 2020 
Written by Michael Roberts 
Published in Engels 200
Marx-Engels Forum. Photo: Flickr/fhwrdh

In the third of our series on the revolutionary Frederick Engels, on the 200th anniversary of his birth, we repost this excerpt from an upcoming short book on Engels' contribution to Marxian political economy by Michael Roberts


Marx and Engels are often accused of what has been called a Promethean vision of human social organisation, namely that human beings, using their superior brains, knowledge and technical prowess, can and should impose their will on the rest of the planet or what is called ‘nature’ – for better or worse.

The charge is that other living species are merely playthings for the use of human beings. There are humans and there is nature – in contradiction. This charge is particularly aimed at Friedrich Engels, who it is claimed, took a bourgeois ‘positivist’ view of science: scientific knowledge was always progressive and neutral in ideology; and so was the relationship between man and nature.

This charge against Marx and Engels was promoted in the post-war period by the so-called Frankfurt School of Marxism, which reckoned that everything went wrong with Marxism after 1844, when Marx and Engels supposedly dumped “humanism”. Later, followers of the French Marxist Althusser put the blame on Fred himself. For them, everything went to hell in a hand basket a little later, when Engels dumped ‘historical materialism’ and replaced it with ‘dialectical materialism’, in order to promote Engels’ ‘silly belief’ that Marxism and the physical sciences had some relationship.

Indeed, the ‘green’ critique of Marx and Engels is that they were unaware that homo sapiens were destroying the planet and thus themselves. Instead, Marx and Engels had a touching Promethean faith in capitalism’s ability to develop the productive forces and technology to overcome any risks to the planet and nature.

That Marx and Engels paid no attention to the impact on nature of human social activity has been debunked recently in particular by the ground-breaking work of Marxist authors like John Bellamy Foster and Paul Burkett. They have reminded us that throughout Marx’s Capital, Marx was very aware of capitalism’s degrading impact on nature and the resources of the planet. Marx wrote that,


“the capitalist mode of production collects the population together in great centres and causes the urban population to achieve an ever-growing preponderance…. [It] disturbs the metabolic interaction between man and the earth, i.e., it prevents the return to the soil of its constituent elements consumed by man in the form of food and clothing; hence it hinders the operation of the eternal natural condition for the lasting fertility of the soil. Thus it destroys at the same time the physical health of the urban worker, and the intellectual life of the rural worker.”



“it is difficult to argue that there is something fundamentally anti-ecological about Marx’s analysis of capitalism and his projections of communism.”

To back this up, Kohei Saito’s prize-winning book has drawn on Marx’s previously unpublished ‘excerpt’ notebooks from the ongoing MEGA research project to reveal Marx’s extensive study of scientific works of the time on agriculture, soil, forestry, to expand his concept of the connection between capitalism and its destruction of natural resources. (I have a review pending on Saito’s book).

But Engels too must be saved from the same charge. Actually, Engels was well ahead of Marx (yet again) in connecting the destruction and damage to the environment that industrialisation was causing. While still living in his home town of Barmen (now Wuppertal), he wrote several diary notes about the inequality of rich and poor, the pious hypocrisy of the church preachers and also the pollution of the rivers.

Just 18 years old, he writes:


“the two towns of Elberfeld and Barmen, which stretch along the valley for a distance of nearly three hours’ travel. The purple waves of the narrow river flow sometimes swiftly, sometimes sluggishly between smoky factory buildings and yarn-strewn bleaching-yards. Its bright red colour, however, is due not to some bloody battle, for the fighting here is waged only by theological pens and garrulous old women, usually over trifles, nor to shame for men’s actions, although there is indeed enough cause for that, but simply and solely to the numerous dye-works using Turkey red. Coming from Düsseldorf, one enters the sacred region at Sonnborn; the muddy Wupper flows slowly by and, compared with the Rhine just left behind, its miserable appearance is very disappointing.”Barmen, 1913. Photo: Public Domain

He goes on:


“First and foremost, factory work is largely responsible. Work in low rooms where people breathe more coal fumes and dust than oxygen — and in the majority of cases beginning already at the age of six — is bound to deprive them of all strength and joy in life." 

He connected the social degradation of working families with the degradation of nature alongside the hypocritical piety of the manufacturers.


“Terrible poverty prevails among the lower classes, particularly the factory workers in Wuppertal; syphilis and lung diseases are so widespread as to be barely credible; in Elberfeld alone, out of 2,500 children of school age 1,200 are deprived of education and grow up in the factories — merely so that the manufacturer need not pay the adults, whose place they take, twice the wage he pays a child. But the wealthy manufacturers have a flexible conscience and causing the death of one child more or one less does not doom a pietist’s soul to hell, especially if he goes to church twice every Sunday. For it is a fact that the pietists among the factory owners treat their workers worst of all; they use every possible means to reduce the workers’ wages on the pretext of depriving them of the opportunity to get drunk, yet at the election of preachers they are always the first to bribe their people.”

Sure, these observations by Engels are just that, observations, without any theoretical development, but they show the sensitivity that Engels already had to the relationship between industrialisation, the owners and the workers, their poverty and the environmental impact of factory production.

In his first major work, Outlines of a Critique of Political Economy, again well before Marx looked at political economy, Engels notes how the private ownership of the land, the drive for profit and the degradation of nature go hand in hand.


“To make earth an object of huckstering — the earth which is our one and all, the first condition of our existence — was the last step towards making oneself an object of huckstering. It was and is to this very day an immorality surpassed only by the immorality of self-alienation. And the original appropriation — the monopolization of the earth by a few, the exclusion of the rest from that which is the condition of their life — yields nothing in immorality to the subsequent huckstering of the earth.”

Once the earth becomes commodified by capital, it is subject to just as much exploitation as labour.Dialectics of Nature, Friedrich Engels

Engels’ major work (written with Marx’s help), The Dialectics of Nature, written in the years up to 1883, just after Marx’s death, is often subject to attack as extending Marx’s materialist conception of history as applied to humans, into nature in a non-Marxist way. And yet, in his book, Engels could not be clearer on the dialectical relation between humans and nature.

In a famous chapter “The Role of Work in Transforming Ape into Man.”, he writes:


“Let us not, however, flatter ourselves overmuch on account of our human conquest over nature. For each such conquest takes its revenge on us. Each of them, it is true, has in the first place the consequences on which we counted, but in the second and third places it has quite different, unforeseen effects which only too often cancel out the first. The people who, in Mesopotamia, Greece, Asia Minor, and elsewhere, destroyed the forests to obtain cultivable land, never dreamed that they were laying the basis for the present devastated condition of these countries, by removing along with the forests the collecting centres and reservoirs of moisture. When, on the southern slopes of the mountains, the Italians of the Alps used up the pine forests so carefully cherished on the northern slopes, they had no inkling that by doing so they were … thereby depriving their mountain springs of water for the greater part of the year, with the effect that these would be able to pour still more furious flood torrents on the plains during the rainy seasons. Those who spread the potato in Europe were not aware that they were at the same time spreading the disease of scrofula. Thus at every step we are reminded that we by no means rule over nature like a conqueror over a foreign people, like someone standing outside nature — but that we, with flesh, blood, and brain, belong to nature, and exist in its midst, and that all our mastery of it consists in the fact that we have the advantage over all other beings of being able to know and correctly apply its laws.” (my emphasis)

Engels goes on: 


"in fact, with every day that passes we are learning to understand these laws more correctly and getting to know both the more immediate and the more remote consequences of our interference with the traditional course of nature. … But the more this happens, the more will men not only feel, but also know, their unity with nature, and thus the more impossible will become the senseless and antinatural idea of a contradiction between mind and matter, man and nature, soul and body. …”

Engels explains the social consequences of the drive to expand the productive forces.


“But if it has already required the labour of thousands of years for us to learn to some extent to calculate the more remote natural consequences of our actions aiming at production, it has been still more difficult in regard to the more remote social consequences of these actions. … When afterwards Columbus discovered America, he did not know that by doing so he was giving new life to slavery, which in Europe had long ago been done away with, and laying the basis for the Negro slave traffic. …”
Arawaks fighting the Spanish, Trinidad and Tobago. Photo: Creative Commons

The people of the Americas were driven into slavery, but also nature was enslaved. As Engels put it:


“What cared the Spanish planters in Cuba, who burned down forests on the slopes of the mountains and obtained from the ashes sufficient fertilizer for one generation of very highly profitable coffee trees–what cared they that the heavy tropical rainfall afterwards washed away the unprotected upper stratum of the soil, leaving behind only bare rock!”
The Mill yard, Antigua 1823. Photo: Creative Commons

Now we know that it was not just slavery that the Europeans brought to the Americas, but also disease, which in its many forms exterminated 90% of native Americans and was the main reason for their subjugation by colonialism.
Aztec smallpox victims. Photo: Creative Commons

As we experience yet another pandemic, we know that it was capitalism’s drive to industrialise agriculture and usurp the remaining wilderness that has led to nature ‘striking back’, as humans come into contact with more pathogens to which they have no immunity, just as the native Americans in the 16th century.

Engels attacked the view that ‘human nature’ is inherently selfish and will just destroy nature. In his Outline, Engels described that argument as a “repulsive blasphemy against man and nature.” Humans can work in harmony with and as part of nature. It requires greater knowledge of the consequences of human action. Engels said in his Dialectics:


“But even in this sphere, by long and often cruel experience and by collecting and analyzing the historical material, we are gradually learning to get a clear view of the indirect, more remote, social effects of our productive activity, and so the possibility is afforded us of mastering and controlling these effects as well.”

But better knowledge and scientific progress is not enough. For Marx and Engels, the possibility of ending the dialectical contradiction between man and nature and bringing about some level of harmony and ecological balance would only be possible with the abolition of the capitalist mode of production. As Engels said: “To carry out this control requires something more than mere knowledge.” Science is not enough. “It requires a complete revolution in our hitherto existing mode of production, and with it of our whole contemporary social order.” The ‘positivist’ Engels, it seems, supported Marx’s materialist conception of history after all.



In the second of our series on the revolutionary Frederick Engels, 
on the 200th anniversary of his birth, we are republishing this piece 
by John Rees which first appeared in the International Socialism Journal in 1994
March 20, 2020 
Written by John Rees 
Category: Engels 200


In the first of our series on the revolutionary Frederick Engels, 
on the 200th anniversary of his birth, we are republishing this
 piece by Lindsey German which first appeared in the 
International Socialism Journal in 1994
February 21, 2020 
Written by Lindsey German 
Category: Engels 200

Wednesday, December 23, 2020

FIFTY YEARS AGO 
MARX AND ENGELS AND THE ‘COLLAPSE’ OF CAPITALISM

In 1786, three years before the outbreak of the French Revolution, Gracchus Babeuf wrote:

“The majority is always on the side of routine and immobility, so much is it unenlightened, encrusted, apathetic . . . Those who do not want to move forward are the enemies of those who do, and unhappily it is the mass which persists stubbornly in never budging at all.”

The events of 1789 disproved his gloomy predictions but, by the time Babeuf became prominent, the reaction was already setting in. His slogan of “The revolution is not finished, because the rich absorb ail wealth and rule exclusively, while the poor work like veritable slaves, languishing in poverty and counting for nothing in the State” was not taken up by the peasants and artisans. Faced with this, Babeuf and his followers planned an insurrection in which they would seize power, constitute themselves as the ‘Insurrectionary Committee of Public Safety’, crush all opposition and — only then — introduce democracy. It was this method of conspiracy and coup d’etat which became the standard technique for 19th-century insurrectionaries such as Blanqui and which formed the inspiration for their innumerable secret societies and abortive rebellions.

From the start, Marx and Engels were scathing about this concept of revolution. For them it was self-evident that “the emancipation of the working class must be the act of the working class itself” and that, in any case, “revolutions are not made intentionally and arbitrarily” as the plotters imagined.

“It goes without saying that these conspirators by no means confine themselves to organising the revolutionary proletariat. Their business consists in forestalling the process of revolutionary development, spurring it in to artificial crises, making revolutions extempore without the conditions for revolution. For them the only condition required for the revolution is a sufficient organisation of their own conspiracy. They are the alchemists of the revolution.”

Yet, however devastating the attack which Marx might make on the Blanquists and others, in one aspect he and Engels were in a very weak position. If they maintained that it was the entire working class which would be responsible for establishing socialism, how would they square this with the obvious fact that the mass of workers still gave every sign of being as “unenlightened, encrusted, apathetic” as they had been in Babeuf’s time? To counter this, Marx and Engels fell back on the theory that it was the crisis in capitalist production which would galvanise the masses into revolutionary activity.

Even in their earliest writings both Marx and Engels attached great importance to crises: but over the years their observations caused them to modify their ideas, especially in relation to the business cycle. In his Outlines of a Critique of Political Economy (Deutsche-Franzosische Jahrbucher. 1844) Engels mentioned that slumps occur every five to seven years, “just as regularly as the great plagues did in the past”. He repeated this in Principles of Communism (1847) while, in theCondition of the Working Class in England in 1844 (1845), there are references to five-year and five to six-year cycles. Marx held similar views during this period. for in an Address on Free Trade delivered in Brussels in 1848 he drew attention to “the average period of from six to seven years — a period of time during which modern industry passes through the various phases of prosperity, overproduction, stagnation, crisis and completes its inevitable cycle”. At the same time they both expected crises to become “more frequent and more violent” Wage Labour and Capital. Marx. 1847) and “more serious and more universal” (Outlines of a Critique of Political Economy, Engels. 1844).

‘Ten-year cycle’

By the time Marx came to publish Capital (Volume I. 1867) he was writing that “the course characteristic of modern industry” was “a decennial cycle (interrupted by smaller oscillations” — and adding that as accumulation advanced the “irregular oscillations” would follow each other more and more quickly. This perspective was echoed by Engels in most of his writings in the 1870s and early 80s as well. (See Dialectics of Nature. Anti-Dühring (1878), articles in the Labour Standard (1881), for example). Although Engels continued to put this line for some time after Marx’s death – see his letter to Kautsky, November 8 1884 – there was a new development during his last ten years in that more and more he came to maintain that an era of chronic stagnation had overwhelmed capitalism. As early as January 1884 in a letter to Bebel (January 18 1884), he wrote that “the ten-year cycle seems to have broken down” and, that same year, he made a similar point — although more hesitantly — in his Preface to Marx’s Poverty of Philosophy:

“The period of general prosperity preceding the crisis still fails to appear. If it should fail altogether, then chronic stagnation would necessarily become the normal condition of modern industry, with only insignificant fluctuations.”

From then until his death in 1895 his writings were full of references to “permanent and chronic depression” (Preface to the English edition of Capital, Volume I. 1886), to the “chronic state of stagnation in all dominant branches of industry” (Preface to the English edition of The Condition of the Working Class in England. 1892) and to “chronic overproduction, depressed prices, falling or disappearing profits” (Capital, Volume III, 1894).

Parallel to this development of their ideas on the business cycle, Marx’s and Engels’ theories on the relationship between crises and revolution also went through a number of phases. As we have seen, in their early writings both held that the crises in capitalist production would become “more frequent and more violent”. But, if this is seen as an absolute tendency, it must mean that eventually capitalism will be brought to a point where it can no longer recover. At any rate, this was certainly Engels’ interpretation of the trends taking place in the 1840s and he repeatedly implied that crises would produce a revolution independently of the level of socialist consciousness reached by the working class:

“Every new crisis must be more serious and more universal than the last. Every fresh slump must ruin more small capitalists and increase the workers who live only by their labour. This will increase the number of the unemployed and this is the main problem that worries economists. In the end commercial crises will lead to a social revolution far beyond the comprehension of the economists with their scholastic wisdom.” (Outlines of a Critique of Political Economy, 1844.)

“The revolution must come; it is already too late to bring about a peaceful solution: but it can be made more gentle than that prophesied in the foregoing pages. This depends, however, more upon the development of the proletariat than upon that of the bourgeoisie. In proportion, as the proletariat absorbs socialistic and communistic elements, will the revolution diminish in bloodshed, revenge, and savagery.” (Condition of the Working Class in England, 1845).

Thus, although the extent to which socialist ideas had penetrated the working class might be important in influencing the revolution which Engels thought he saw emerging in England, that was the limit of their role. In both these works, it is the increase in misery of the workers which Engels stresses as the vital factor in the development of their revolutionary activity — rather than their growing understanding of socialism as an alternative method of organising society to capitalism. This contrasts sharply with some of Marx’s writings of the same period, where he puts all his emphasis on the spread of socialist concepts among the working class:

“It is true that, in its economic development, private property advances towards its own dissolution; but it only does this through a development which is independent of itself, unconscious and achieved against its will — solely because it produces the proletariat as proletariat, poverty conscious of its moral and physical poverty, degradation conscious of its degradation, and for this reason trying to abolish itself.” (Holy Family, 1845.)

In fact, socialist consciousness was considered of such vital importance by Marx that he grossly exaggerated its depth and extent

“There is no need to dwell here upon the fact that a large part of the English and French proletariat is already conscious of its historical task and is constantly working to develop that consciousness into complete clarity.” [In 1845!]

The upheavals in France, Germany, and elsewhere in Europe in 1848, however, had a profound influence on Marx, and for a time at any rate his enthusiasm got the better of him and he was evidently prepared to suspend his former commitment to socialist consciousness. His writings of this period suggest that it is the commercial crisis and the resulting hardship of the workers which are the critical factors in inducing the working class to turn to revolution. The articles he wrote for the Neue Rheinische Zeitung in 1850 all revolve around the axiom that “crises produce revolution”, and since the revolutionary tide had by then ebbed away, that “a new revolution is only possible as a result of a new crisis”. Naturally, Engels’ earlier ideas readily accommodated themselves to this new development in Marx’s thought and together they wrote:

“With this general prosperity, in which the productive forces of bourgeois society develop as luxuriantly as is at all possible within bourgeois relationships, there can be no talk of a real revolution. Such a revolution is only possible in periods when both these factors, the modern productive forces and the bourgeois productive forms, come in collision with each other.”

This was the line they were to take throughout the 1850s. Living in exile in London and Manchester, they anxiously searched for any signs of the next crisis — and oscillated between wild optimism and more justified impatience in time with the fluctuations in world trade. In September 1852 Engels is writing to Marx that “with the temporary prosperity … the workers (in France) seem to have become completely bourgeois after all. It will take a severe chastisement by crises if they are to become good for anything again soon.” By April 1853, however: “Europe is admirably prepared; it needs only the spark of a crisis”. (Engels to Weydemeyer). When the required spark didn’t materialise he became more cautious but in 1857, when a crisis really did develop, they were both certain that “now our time is coming”. As early as September 1856, Marx had recognised the symptoms of the approaching disruption in industry and had written to Engels: “This time, moreover, the thing is on a European scale never reached before and I do not think we shall be able to sit here as spectators much longer”. The following year, in the midst of the crisis, he is “working like mad all through the nights at putting my economic studies together so that I may at least have the outlines clear before the deluge comes.” (Letter to Engels, December 8, 1857). Meanwhile Engels was maintaining that a really chronic crisis would be needed to stir the workers into revolution since “the masses must have got damned lethargic after such long prosperity” (Engels to Marx, November 15, 1857). When trade started to pick up again at the end of December 1857 both of them were sadly disappointed and, a year later, we find Engels returning to a familiar theme: “The English proletariat is ‘becoming more and more bourgeois”.

The crisis of 1857 and its failure to evoke a revolutionary response from the working class had a big impact on Marx. So when he came to publish Capital (Volume I, 1867), although he outlined the cycle of modern industry as “a series of periods of moderate activity, prosperity, overproduction, crisis and stagnation”, there were no references to revolution automatically arising from this sequence. But if Marx seems to have largely shaken himself free of his former romantic notions, they remained well in evidence in Engel’s writings. Anti-Dühring (1878) in particular was as outspoken in its commitment to the idea that capitalism would ‘collapse’ as any of his earlier works had been.

“… this mode of production (capitalism), by virtue of its own development, drives towards the point at which it makes itself impossible.”

Anticipating Rosa Luxemburg, Engels wrote that “if the whole of modern society is not to perish, a revolution in the mode of production and distribution must take place” and that the working class would be “forced to accomplish this revolution”, “under penalty of its own destruction”. Crises, then, were still seen as “means of compelling the social revolution”.

Until the early 1880s Engels’s ideas on crises and revolution hardly showed any advance on those he had held 30 years before. This is made clear enough by a letter he wrote to Bernstein in January 1882.

“That crises are one of the most powerful levels of revolutionary upheaval was already stated in The Communist Manifesto and was treated in detail up to 1848 inclusive in the review in the Neue Rheinische Zeitung, where, however, it was shown too that returning prosperity also breaks revolutions and lays the basis for the victory of reaction.”

But after Marx’s death in 1883, with Engels deciding that capitalism might well be entering a phase of chronic stagnation with correspondingly less chance of acute crises occurring, his emphasis naturally shifted from the earlier concept of a crisis-provoked revolution to the view that the capitalist system would be driven into an economic impasse. Thus in his preface to the first German edition of Marx’s Poverty of Philosophy (1884) he refers to “the inevitable collapse of the capitalist mode of production which is daily taking place before our eyes to an ever greater degree”. Four years later, in his introduction to Marx’s Address on Free Trade, he writes that society will be “brought to a deadlock, out of which there is no escaping but by a complete remodelling of the economic structure which forms its basis”.

Engels’s correspondence during his last ten years is also an interesting record of his tendency to imagine that capitalism would ‘collapse’. In a letter to J. P. Becker in June 1885 he assessed the political currents at work in England and concluded that “the masses will turn socialist here too. Industrial over-production will do the rest”. As late as 1893, in a letter to Danielson (February 24, 1893), he is still convinced that there are “economic consequences of the capitalist system which must bring it up to the critical point”, that “the crisis must come”.

Yet although at times during this final period of his life, Engels was to foreshadow the determinism of the leaders of the Second International on this question, at others he came near to the position of the Socialist Party of Great Britain and its companion parties. As we have shown, as long as Marx was alive, it was he rather than Engels who emphasised the need for socialist consciousness as a precondition for the overthrowing of capitalism by the working class. But with Marx dead, Engels seems to have become aware of the need to stress this himself. Although he could not free himself entirely from the ideas which had dominated his thinking on revolution for over 40 years, yet he could also write that:

“… the old bourgeois society might still vegetate on for a while, so long as a shove from outside does not bring the whole ramshackle old building crashing down. A rotten old casing like this can survive its inner essential death for a few decades, if the atmosphere is undisturbed. So I should be very cautious about prophesying such a thing” (the collapse of bourgeois society). (Letter to Bebel, October 24, 1891).

When this is coupled with other statements he was to make, to the effect that “where it is a question of a complete transformation of the social organisation, the masses themselves must also be in it, must themselves have grasped what is at stake, what they are going in for with body and soul” (Introduction to Marx’s Class Struggles in France, 1895), one gets an entirely different slant from that conveyed in some of his other writings.

This study of the attitude of Marx and Engels towards crises and the concept of capitalism ‘collapsing’ shows, then, the extent to which they were influenced by the various phases which capitalism passed through in 19th-century Europe. If we have outlined some of the mistaken attitudes they adopted this is not to detract from the immense contributions they made to socialist thought. What it does mean, however, is that it was left to other socialists to produce a more penetrating analysis of the role of crises in capitalist production. What was most useful in their work on this topic was later summed up in the pamphlet Why Capitalism Will Not Collapse which the Socialist Party published in 1932:

“Until a sufficient number of workers are prepared to organise politically for the conscious purpose of ending capitalism, that system will stagger on indefinitely from one crisis to another.”

 SOCIALIST STANDARD no-776-april-1969

 

A Companion Party of The World Socialist Movement – Advocating socialism and nothing but since 1904


Monday, August 03, 2020

Marx and the Communist Enlightenment

Post on: August 2, 2020
Doug Enaa Greene
Harrison Fluss


Marxism is the completion of the Radical Enlightenment project.



Part I | II | III | IV | V | VI

Marx and Engels were the philosophes of a second Enlightenment.
— Louis Menand
Enlightenment and the Young Marx

For Jonathan Israel, Marx’s status as a Radical Enlightenment figure ended prematurely in 1844. According to this interpretation, Marx was a Spinozistic liberal until he discovered the proletariat and converted to communism.1 But this sharp break that Israel assumes in Marx’s thinking did not occur. Israel provides only a cursory treatment of Marx’s writings after 1844 and never shows how Marx broke with the Enlightenment. This stark division between Enlightenment ideas and communism is arguably the worst part of his latest book, The Enlightenment That Failed. Israel implies that if only Marx had not collaborated with the bad Engels, but had stuck with the liberal Young Hegelians, he would have been saved from the economic “determinism” and “authoritarianism” that marred his later political career. Israel’s case for a counter-Enlightenment Marx ignores how earlier “Spinozistic” concerns and themes were integrated into his theory of communist revolution. Neither the “young Marx” nor the “old Marx” renounced humanism, naturalism, and the progressive ideas of Radical Enlightenment.

Israel mentions Marx’s father, Heinrich, in passing, but he neglects an entire backdrop of Marx’s Enlightenment-influenced childhood. This refers to the impact of Baron Ludwig von Westphalen, the privy councillor of Marx’s hometown of Trier and his future father-in-law. It is true that Heinrich Marx was a fan of Voltaire and Rousseau, but he was a fairly moderate liberal; it was in fact Ludwig who introduced the more radical aspects of the French Revolution to Marx, such as the utopian socialism of Henri de Saint-Simon. One other influence Israel ignores is that of Ludwig’s daughter and Marx’s future bride, Jenny von Westphalen. Four years his senior, and sometimes scandalously wearing a French tricolor in her hair, the young Jenny was key to Marx’s political development.2

As Israel notes, in order to practice law, Heinrich was forced to convert from Judaism to Lutheranism. Seven years after the defeat of the Grande Armée, Frederick William III revoked the civil emancipation of Jews that Napoleon had established in Trier. The emancipation of Jewish people was a conquest of the French Revolution, championed by Robespierre and Napoleon alike, and won the admiration of liberal elements in Germany. The revocation of Jewish emancipation affected not only the Marxes but also future associates of Karl such as the Hegelian law professor Eduard Gans and the poet Heinrich Heine. Heinrich Marx, Gans, and Heine were all pressured to civilly renounce Judaism.

After his conversion, Heinrich Marx continued to admire the French Enlightenment, and as a fellow liberal, he befriended Ludwig von Westphalen.3 Together, they were members of the Trier Casino Club, a club of bourgeois professionals with a liberal or left-wing bent. On one particular Bastille Day, the members spontaneously sang “La Marseillaise” in celebration. Little did they know that there was a Prussian spy in their midst, and once word reached the king about this rousing rendition of the subversive anthem, the club was unceremoniously shut down.

Soon after Karl began studying at university, he immersed himself in Hegelian philosophy. Heinrich feared the increasing radicalization of his son and believed that Karl’s path into philosophy would do him little good for his professional career. Once Marx told his father that he discovered Hegel in 1837, Heinrich all but despaired for his son’s prospects. Marx, however, ignored his father and delved deeper into the exciting world of Young Hegelianism.4

The two most important professors whom Marx had at the universities of Berlin and Bonn were Eduard Gans and Bruno Bauer. Gans was one of Hegel’s students, but after the July Revolution of 1830, Gans took Hegelianism in a republican and socialistic direction. Bauer was also a disciple of Hegel’s, and originally belonged to the Hegelian right; he favored orthodox Lutheranism and monarchism. But later, he transformed into a radical republican and a staunch critic of the Bible. Arnold Ruge christened Bauer the “Robespierre” of theology.5 From these teachers, Marx absorbed Hegelian philosophy and democratic republicanism.
Enlightenment and the Young Engels

Growing up in different circumstances, the young Friedrich Engels was raised by strict conservative Pietists. The wealthy Engels family was based in Wuppertal, and his father, Friedrich Sr., owned textile factories as part of the firm Ermen & Engels. Young Friedrich gradually shook off the traditional religious beliefs of his parents and converted to atheistic Hegelianism after reading David Strauss’s The Life of Jesus (1835–36). Strauss was one of the first left Hegelians, combining Hegel’s philosophy with Enlightenment rationalism. He argued that the Gospels were not literal histories but mythopoetic illustrations of the human condition. Jesus was not the son of God but a poetic representation of humanity’s own infinite worth.6

After beginning military service in Berlin, Engels joined forces with the Young Hegelians. He frequented the Hippel café, where Bauer and others would drink and converse. Engels liked to draw funny caricatures of their rowdy philosophical debates,7 and he even wrote a bombastic epic poem about Young Hegelianism, entitled “The Insolently Threatened yet Miraculously Rescued Bible.” There, Engels portrays the Young Hegelians as more dangerous than the Jacobin Club and refers to himself by his new Jacobin alias, Oswald:


Right on the very left, that tall and long-legged stepper
Is Oswald [Engels], coat of grey and trousers shade of pepper;
Pepper inside as well, Oswald the Montagnard;
A radical is he, dyed in the wool, and hard.
Day in, day out, he plays upon the guillotine a
Single solitary tune and that’s a cavatina,
The same old devil-song; he bellows the refrain:
Formez vos bataillons! Aux armes, citoyens!
[Form your battalions! To arms, citizens! — from the Marseillaise]8

Marx knew Engels in 1842 but did not think much of him at the time. Two years later, however, when they reencountered each other in Paris, they recognized that they shared the same fundamental worldview and thus began a lifelong friendship and collaboration as communists. Engels was the first to accept communism through the work of Moses Hess. From his experiences with the Parisian working class and after reading Engels’s Outlines of a Critique of Political Economy (1843), Marx embraced communism in turn. In another essay written in the same year, Engels deduces socialism as the logical result of British economics, the French Revolution, and German philosophy:


The English came to the [socialist] conclusion practically, by the rapid increase of misery, demoralisation, and pauperism in their own country: the French politically, by first asking for political liberty and equality; and, finding this insufficient, joining social liberty, and social equality to their political claims: the Germans became Communists philosophically, by reasoning upon first principles. This being the origin of Socialism in the three countries.9

Marx repeats this European trinity of British economics, French politics, and German philosophy in his writings from 1844: “It must be granted that the German proletariat is the theoretician of the European proletariat just as the English proletariat is its economist and the French its politician.”10 With this new communist worldview, Marx and Engels attempted to settle their philosophical debts with the Young Hegelians. In doing so, they took up the philosophy of Ludwig Feuerbach, which combined materialism, empiricism, and humanism.
The Holy Family

Making their Feuerbachian debut together in The Holy Family (1845), Marx and Engels saw Feuerbach’s materialism as repeating the Enlightenment’s battle against metaphysical abstractions. As Hegel put it in The Phenomenology, Enlightenment liberated itself from any metaphysical rationalism, emphasizing what’s finite and concrete over what’s theological and abstract. In The Holy Family, Marx and Engels saw Hegel himself as the German repetition of 17th-century rationalism (e.g., Descartes, Spinoza, Leibniz, Malebranche), while Feuerbach represented the return to the Enlightenment of Holbach, Helvétius, and Bentham. According to Marx and Engels, Feuerbach had finally exorcised the ghost of metaphysics once and for all, and now all philosophy had to go through the “fire bath” of Feuerbach. As Marx put it once earlier, “There is no other road for you to truth and freedom except that leading through the brook of fire (the Feuerbach). Feuerbach is the purgatory of the present times.”11

But even in their criticism of Spinoza as a rationalist metaphysician, Marx and Engels maintained a materialist basis. In The Holy Family, they affirm a materialist monism, that “body, being, substance, are but different terms for the same [material] reality. It is impossible to separate thought from matter that thinks. This matter is the substratum of all changes going on in the world.”12 But, in contrast to Bauer and to Israel, Marx and Engels in The Holy Family trace the impact of John Locke’s empiricism on French materialism. It is true, as Israel has pointed out, that Spinozism was an important philosophical component of the Radical Enlightenment; nevertheless, Lockean epistemology had radical implications for philosophers on the Continent as well.13

The Holy Family criticizes the elitism of the Young Hegelians, where Bauer merely echoes the unhistorical conception of human progress that pits a disembodied reason against the spirit of reaction. For Marx, progress advances from social contradictions, and the masses themselves are the bearers of this progress. The masses are the most important factor in Enlightenment, and this process of Enlightenment is inseparable from class struggle.14 The question of the masses is central to Marx and Engels’ critique of Bauer. Bauer saw philosophical criticism as a task directed against the ignorant masses; for him, the lofty fight for self-consciousness and liberty was antagonistic to the crude material interests of the crowd. As one reviewer of The Holy Family wrote, satirizing Bauer’s own elitism, “To get rid of the French Revolution, communism, and Feuerbach, he [Bruno Bauer] shrieks “masses, masses, masses!,” and again: “masses, masses, masses!”15

For Marx and Engels, the two main sources of French materialism were Lockean epistemology and Cartesian natural science. “The two trends intersect in the course of development,” giving birth to the more refined and sophisticated materialism of Holbach and Helvétius. This materialism, however, contains a dialectic within itself, one that points beyond bourgeois society. From the philosophical claims of materialism, the authors deduce the political conclusion of communism. It is worth quoting The Holy Family at length here, since Israel argues that Marx stopped his association with Radical Enlightenment in 1844. But in 1845, Marx and Engels assert the contrary:


French materialism leads directly to socialism and communism. There is no need for any great penetration to see from the teaching of materialism on the original goodness and equal intellectual endowment of men, the omnipotence of experience, habit and education, and the influence of environment on man, the great significance of industry, the justification of enjoyment, etc., how necessarily materialism is connected with communism and socialism. If man draws all his knowledge, sensation, etc., from the world of the senses and the experience gained in it, then what has to be done is to arrange the empirical world in such a way that man experiences and becomes accustomed to what is truly human in it and that he becomes aware of himself as man. If correctly understood interest is the principle of all morality, man’s private interest must be made to coincide with the interest of humanity.16

Here, Marx and Engels take up key Enlightenment tenets, including the essential goodness of human nature (i.e., the rejection of original sin); the importance of education and environment; the “great significance” of industry; and hedonistic ethics, or what they call “the justification of enjoyment.” These are the principles that any socialism must defend for it to make philosophical sense. Again, Israel’s stark demarcation between Enlightenment and Marx’s communism is belied by such passages.

Without the backbone of these Radical Enlightenment premises, the struggle for social equality would be meaningless. Marx and Engels affirm equality as,


man’s consciousness of himself in the element of practice, i.e., therefore, man’s consciousness of other men as his equals and man’s relation to other men as his equals. Equality is the French expression for the unity of human essence, for man’s consciousness of his species and his attitude toward his species, for the practical identity of man with man, i.e., for the social or human relation of man to man.17

In other words, equality is the social expression of our common human identity. It serves as the basis for criticizing the dehumanizing economic relations that pit human beings against each other.
The German Ideology

In The German Ideology (1845-6), written shortly after The Holy Family, Marx and Engels criticize Feuerbach for being insufficiently materialist, since he, like the French materialists before him, was an idealist when it came to history. In this domain, Feuerbach still privileges ideas over material reality. The German Ideology is where the authors first clearly articulate the materialistic conception of history, which is marked by a series of different modes of production. The products of consciousness such as law, religion, and philosophy are all conditioned by material circumstances. Such a theory of history in particular explains how French materialism is a necessary outgrowth of the bourgeoisie’s struggles against feudalism.18

The German Ideology acknowledges what Hegel had already discovered in The Phenomenology: that the spirit of Enlightenment came about through emerging bourgeois conditions. The truth of Enlightenment was “utility,” and utilitarianism was the philosophy of the radical French bourgeoisie. Before the consolidation of capitalism, philosophers like Holbach and Helvétius did not carefully distinguish human flourishing from economic competition and exploitation. Bourgeois reality was assumed to be the natural order of things. According to Marx, this idealized conception was a necessary and justified illusion, without which there would be no ideological motivation for the bourgeois revolution. But there is a darker side to bourgeois Enlightenment, of what Hegel called “the spiritual animal kingdom.” Beneath the idealistic image of human flourishing lurked the dehumanized relations of commodity exchange.

In The Holy Family, Marx and Engels extracted the communist kernel from the shell of bourgeois Enlightenment, meaning a transition from Helvétius and Holbach to the utopian socialism of Gracchus Babeuf and Charles Fourier. Here, in The German Ideology, the authors focus on the illusion of bourgeois Enlightenment, which could not fulfill the promise of human flourishing. While Helvétius and Holbach represent the bourgeoisie in its heroic and more universal phase, Jeremy Bentham and John Stuart Mill represent the philosophical conscience of a cynical bourgeoisie that has resigned itself to the reality of exploitation. For the latter, human flourishing is fully identified with market relations.
The Communist Manifesto

Nonetheless, as jaded as bourgeois Enlightenment can be, there is something refreshing about its rejection of feudalism. Repeating what Hegel argued in The Phenomenology, Marx and Engels see bourgeois reality as achieving a relative kind of Enlightenment. As Marx and Engels put it famously in The Communist Manifesto (1848): “All fixed, fast-frozen relations, with their train of ancient and venerable prejudices and opinions, are swept away, all new-formed ones become antiquated before they can ossify. All that is solid melts into air, all that is holy is profaned, and man is at last compelled to face with sober senses his real conditions of life, and his relations with his kind.”19 The enlightened bourgeoisie “has drowned the most heavenly ecstasies of religious fervour, of chivalrous enthusiasm, of philistine sentimentalism, in the icy water of egotistical calculation.”20 This description of feudal culture’s demise was strongly foreshadowed in the pages of Hegel’s Phenomenology and its discussion of Rameau’s Nephew.21

In the Manifesto, Marx and Engels not only praise the bourgeoisie for uniting the world economy; they also acknowledge the democratic “representative state” as its most important political achievement. Not just the (partial) liberation of the productive forces, but liberal ideas like freedom of conscience, equality before the law, and freedom of the press are legitimate gains for humanity. Political equality, however, is insufficient without economic equality. The bourgeoisie achieved Enlightenment only halfway since it clings to a superstitious belief in private property. Thus the bourgeoisie cannot complete its own Enlightenment, since a truly human and secular society is incompatible with class relations.22

In the third chapter of the Manifesto, Marx and Engels attack what they call feudal socialism and “true socialism.” Both of these false socialisms are reactionary, insofar as they advocate romantic solutions to capitalism. The feudal socialist wants workers to return to an imagined organic aristocratic society, in which they will resubmit to their noble betters. On the other hand, the “true socialist” wants to push aside class struggle in favor of a classless humanitarianism. Such ethical idealism denounces bourgeois society in toto as sinful and irredeemable. While the “true socialists” think they are moving past bourgeois society, they inadvertently adopt the romantic critique of capitalism. For Marx and Engels, one cannot achieve socialism without presupposing the accomplishments of bourgeois society and bourgeois enlightenment.

True socialism “forgot, in the nick of time, that the French [socialist] criticism, whose silly echo it was, presupposed the existence of modern bourgeois society, with its corresponding economic conditions of existence, and the political constitution adapted thereto, the very things those attainment was the object of the pending struggle in Germany.”23 In their absolute rejection of everything progressive in bourgeois society, including constitutional law, true socialism gives aid to reaction. Presupposing the advancement of science and industry, socialism not only liberates the productive forces; it also consummates the struggle for democracy. Socialism does not simply cast off the forms of democracy and republicanism, but makes democracy real for the working class.
The Dead Dogs

As Marx matured in his economic thinking, he returned to Hegelian dialectics as the basis for his critique of capitalism. In a letter to Ludwig Kugelmann, he accuses Feuerbach, along with the rest of the German intelligentsia, of treating Hegel like a “dead dog.”24 According to Marx, one must extract the rational side of Hegel’s dialectics and discard its irrational idealism. It is no coincidence that when Marx defends Hegel in his afterword to the first volume of Capital (1867), he compares Hegel’s fate with that of Spinoza’s. If the German Enlightenment stunted itself in treating Spinoza as a “dead dog,” then the same goes for Eugen Dühring and others when they treat Hegel as a mere mystic.25

Marx’s approach to Spinoza and Hegel is itself dialectical. As he puts it in a letter to Ferdinand Lassalle, “Even in the case of philosophers who give systematic form to their work, Spinoza for instance, the true inner structure of the system is quite unlike the form in which it was consciously presented by him.”26

Spinoza is not absent in Marx’s Grundrisse (1859) and Capital. Marx wrote his critique as a “natural history,” wherein he laid bare the economic law of motion for the capitalist system. This presupposes a Spinozistic outlook of paying attention to rational causes over mere appearances: “Vulgar economy which, indeed, ‘has really learnt nothing,’ here as everywhere sticks to appearances in opposition to the law which regulates and explains them. In opposition to Spinoza, [political economy] believes that ‘ignorance is a sufficient reason.’” 27 Not only does Marx assume Spinoza’s materialism of causation; like Hegel, he also accepts Spinoza’s insight that all determination is negation; that it is not enough to negate something, but to overcome that negation in turn. Negation is determined not just by particular things, but by an overall process, or what Marx refers to as “the negation of the negation.” For Marx, Spinoza provides the philosophical basis for this dialectical logic: “This identity of production and consumption amounts to Spinoza’s thesis: determinatio est negatio.”28 Needless to say, this reemergence of Spinozism as integral to Marx’s critique refutes Israel’s argument that the later Marx abandoned Spinozism.
Marx and Engels’ Second Enlightenment

In the Grundrisse, Marx takes issue with bourgeois socialists, who merely affirm the ideals of the French Revolution, while ignoring the realities of capitalism. In pursuing liberty, equality, and fraternity one-sidedly, these socialists ironically reinforce unfreedom, inequality, and atomization. This is because they do not understand the reality of competition and exchange, and fall prey to its logic. This is certainly the case for Marx when he discusses the petty bourgeois socialism of Pierre-Joseph Proudhon and his followers.29 As Marx puts it in Capital, “There alone rule [in bourgeois society] Freedom, Equality, Property and Bentham,” where the name of Bentham signifies the crass logic of exploitation.30

Seemingly strange bedfellows, both Israel and the structuralist Marxist Louis Althusser claim that the later Marx abandoned his original humanism. But the evidence in the mature economic manuscripts is clear. Marx reaffirms that socialism will be a realm of freedom based on an advanced material economic base. The realm of necessity will not be abolished but workers will “rationally” regulate “their interchange with Nature, bringing it under their common control, instead of being ruled by it as by the blind forces of Nature.”31 The realm of freedom will “blossom forth only with this realm of necessity as its basis. The shortening of the working-day is its basic prerequisite.”32 In socialism, humanity will live “under conditions most favourable to, and worthy of, their human nature.”33

The interrelation between humanity and nature, a Spinozistic point, is an echo of what Marx and Engels previously wrote decades before in The Holy Family: “If man is shaped by his surroundings, his surroundings must be made human. If man is social by nature, he will develop his true nature only in society, and the power of his nature must be measured not by the power of separate individuals but by the power of society. This and similar propositions are to be found almost literally even in the oldest French materialists.”34 These passages from The Holy Family and Capital show continuity in Marx’s Enlightenment humanism.

In his separate works, Engels celebrates the thinkers of the Enlightenment. Diderot and Rousseau are credited for inventing modern dialectics in their respective criticisms of bourgeois society and property relations. But the entirety of the French Enlightenment comes in for special praise in his Ludwig Feuerbach and the End of Classical German Philosophy (1886): “The French materialists no less than the deists Voltaire and Rousseau held this conviction [of historical progress] to an almost fanatical degree, and often enough made the greatest personal sacrifices for it. If ever anybody dedicated his whole life to the ‘enthusiasm for truth and justice’ — using this phrase in the good sense — it was Diderot, for instance.”35

In Anti-Dühring (1877), Engels calls Spinoza “a dialectician,” and in Dialectics of Nature (1883), he affirms Spinoza’s idea of a self-caused substance as expressing the activity of matter in motion, that is, as anticipating dialectical materialism. 36 In an anecdote, Plekhanov recounts how Engels told him that “old Spinoza” was “absolutely right” to see mind and matter as two sides of one nature. In contrast to Israel, Plekhanov unequivocally states, “I am fully convinced that Marx and Engels, after the materialist turn in their development, never abandoned the standpoint of Spinoza.”37

According to Engels, it was the radical bourgeoisie that originally developed the modern idea of equality. This idea was “first formulated by Rousseau, in trenchant terms but still on behalf of all humanity.”38 The emerging proletariat, however, went deeper than the bourgeoisie in adopting equality under its revolutionary banner, and as “was the case with all demands of the bourgeoisie, so here too the proletariat cast a fateful shadow beside it and drew its own conclusions (Babeuf). This connection between bourgeois equality and the proletariat’s drawing of conclusions should be developed in greater detail.”39 Hence, we see that proletarian morality for Engels is not the total negation of bourgeois Enlightenment morality, but its dialectical negation. Political equality is insufficient and needs social equality to be made substantive and permanent.
The Critique of the Gotha Program

This leads us to Marx’s conception of equality in The Critique of the Gotha Program (1875). Under the banner of social equality, the proletariat establishes its rule. But, according to Marx, during the first phase of communism (i.e., socialism), the right to equality still presupposes inequality. How is this possible? In this initial stage, the productive forces still need to be reorganized and further developed. Socialism frees society from the domination of what Marx called “the law of value” (i.e., commodity relations), but it cannot totally do away with principles of exchange. For the sake of developing the productive forces, the first phase of communism is governed by the principle from each according to their ability, to each according to their deed. This means that “as far as the distribution of [the means of consumption] among the individual producers is concerned, the same principle prevails as in the exchange of commodity equivalents: a given amount of labor in one form is exchanged for an equal amount of labor in another form…The right of the producers is proportional to the labor they supply; the equality consists in the fact that measurement is made with an equal standard, labor.”40

Under this first phase of communism, it does not recognize class differences, but it does recognize differences when it comes to what workers can contribute. Some workers, either physically or mentally, will contribute more than others, and they may need more compensation than others because of their particular circumstances. Perhaps they have to take care of more dependents, or they have a greater skill set. Regardless, Marx is clear that a kind of exchange still exists under socialism.

Only in the upper stage of socialism, namely communism proper, does exchange value completely wither away in favor of use value. Hegel had already seen the contradictory nature of value in his analysis of the bourgeois Enlightenment. The truth of bourgeois Enlightenment for Hegel was utility, a contradictory phenomenon that expressed both the promise of human flourishing and the reality of exploitation. Utility was bound up with the commodity form, in which use-value is dominated by market exchange. But for Marx, only full communism can liberate use value from exchange value, thus resolving the main contradiction of bourgeois Enlightenment. Thus, communism is not the abstract negation, but the completion of the Enlightenment project. This completion is summed up in the slogan: “From each according to their ability, to each according to their needs!”41

Under communism, equality is understood as a law of proportion — that all human beings have a right to equal development and satisfaction of their different needs. Helen Macfarlane, the Chartist radical and first translator of The Communist Manifesto into English, put it as follows: “The Rights of one human being are precisely the same as the Rights of another human being, in virtue of their common nature.”42 Without this common human nature, Marx’s slogan for the realization of human wants is unintelligible and unachievable. This slogan is at one with Macfarlane’s translation of the Manifesto’s statement that the “old Bourgeois Society, with its classes, and class antagonisms, will be replaced by an association, wherein the free development of EACH is the free development of ALL.”43

Whether it is Spinozism, French materialism, or the ideas of the French Revolution — particularly the idea of equality — Marx and Engels were no strangers to Radical Enlightenment. On the contrary, they were its most advanced representatives. We have demonstrated that Radical Enlightenment was not just a passing phase of Marx’s youth but the consistent philosophical thread throughout his thinking.

Part V of this series on the Enlightenment will appear next Sunday.


Notes

1. ↑ “Marx’s early thought, shaped by Bauer and Feuerbach, was in a sense a variant of Spinozist materialism, naturalism, anti-providentialism, and anti-Scriptualism which, before long, became dramatically infused with zeal for democratic transformation.” Jonathan I. Israel, Enlightenment that Failed, 905.



This ignores Bauer’s explicit anti-Spinozism, which favored self-consciousness over substance, as well as Feuerbach’s empiricist critique of Spinoza as a metaphysician. Marx himself in his dissertation repeats Bauer-like criticisms of Spinoza, while in later works, such as The Holy Family, he repeats Feuerbach’s critique. Israel does not deign to comment on Marx’s criticisms of Spinoza in this early period.
2. ↑ Harrison Fluss and Sam Miller, “Subversive Beginnings,” Jacobin, June 19, 2016; Harrison Fluss and Sam Miller, “The Life of Jenny Marx,” Jacobin, February 14, 2016.
3. ↑ For more on Heinrich Marx’s opinions on the French Revolution and Napoleon, see Michael Heinrich, Karl Marx and the Birth of Modern Society: The Life of Marx and the Development of His Work, vol. 1: 1818–1841 (New York: Monthly Review, 2019), 81–82.
4. ↑ The young Marx was into dueling, drinking, and, now, Hegel. In Berlin, a group of Young Hegelians met at Hippel’s café, calling themselves the Berlin Frei. There they drank and vigorously argued, celebrating not just free thought but free spirits. When the future anarchist Mikhail Bakunin visited Berlin in its Young Hegelian heyday, he liked to play a philosophical drinking game:




In Russia, the young Bakunin became a member of a literary group so intoxicated with Hegelian idealism that even their love affairs were permeated by it, and who, volatilizing in the Russian way the portentous abstractions of the German, used to toast the Hegelian categories, proceeding through the metaphysical progression from Pure Existence to the divine Idea.

Edmund Wilson, To the Finland Station: A Study in the Writing and Acting of History (New York: New York Review of Books, 2003), 262.
5. ↑ David Leopold, The Young Karl Marx: German Philosophy, Modern Politics, and Human Flourishing (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 103.
6. ↑ Marilyn Chapin Massey, Christ Unmasked: The Meaning of the Life of Jesus in German Politics (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1983); and Friedrich Engels, Letters of the Young Engels (Moscow: Progress Publishers, 1976).
7. ↑ For Engels’s drawings, see “Die Freien by Friedrich Engels,” Wikipedia Commons.
8. ↑ “The Insolently Threatened Yet Miraculously Rescued Bible,” in MECW, vol. 2, 335.
9. ↑ “Progress of Social Reform on the Continent,” in MECW, vo. 3, 392–93.
Later in the same article, the young Engels inferred that the premises of German philosophy lead to the conclusion of communism:




Our party has to prove that either all the philosophical efforts of the German nation, from Kant to Hegel, have been useless — worse than useless; or, that they must end in Communism; that the Germans must either reject their great philosophers, whose names they hold up as the glory of their nation, or that they must adopt Communism. (Ibid., 406.)

Lenin also popularized Marxism as a synthesis of British economics, French politics, and German philosophy:


The Marxist doctrine is omnipotent because it is true. It is comprehensive and harmonious, and provides men with an integral world outlook irreconcilable with any form of superstition, reaction, or defence of bourgeois oppression. It is the legitimate successor to the best that man produced in the nineteenth century, as represented by German philosophy, English political economy and French socialism. (“The Three Sources and Three Component Parts of Marxism,” 1913, in Lenin Collected Works [henceforth LCW], vol. 19 [Moscow: Progress Publishers, 1974], 23–24.)

Before Marx and Engels, Hess was the first to conceive of this progressive trinity of England, France, and Germany in his European Triarchy (1841), wherein he claimed that Spinoza represents “the ideal foundation of modern times.” Four years before he wrote this work, Hess had announced in The Holy History of Mankind (1837) that humanity had entered into the Age of Spinoza.
10. ↑ “Critical Notes on the Article: ‘The King of Prussia and Social Reform. By a Prussian,’” in MECW, vol. 3, 202.
11. ↑ Karl Marx, “Luther as the Arbiter between Strauss and Feuerbach,” in Writings of the Young Marx on Philosophy and Society, ed. L. D. Easton and K. H. Guddat (New York: Doubleday, 1967), 95.
12. ↑ The Holy Family, in MECW, vol. 4, 129.



The relationship between Feuerbach and Spinoza is unfortunately outside the scope of this series. The scholar Marx W. Wartofsky, however, explains that Feuerbach saw himself as a legatee of Spinoza’s pantheism and materialism: “Thus, Feuerbach contrasts pantheism, as the theoretical negation of theology, with empiricism, as the practical negation of theology. But he says pantheism — that is, Spinoza’s pantheism, which accords matter divine status, albeit abstractly and metaphysically — as the legitimation and sanction of the “materialistic tendency of modern times.’” Feuerbach (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977), 370.
13. ↑ Joseph de Maistre, in his St. Petersburg Dialogues, engages in a long rant against Lockeanism. In the sixth dialogue, by denying the doctrine of innate ideas, Locke is called an enemy of Christian authority, and Maistre despairs that so many French philosophers fell under Locke’s spell. They neglected their own “Christian Plato” (Malebranche) in favor of English empiricism. Joseph de Maistre, St Petersburg Dialogues: Or Conversations on the Temporal Government of Providence (London: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1993), 187, 188.
14. ↑ According to Lukács, during the Restoration period, defenders of human progress redefined Enlightenment as inextricably bound up with mass struggle:




According to the new interpretation the reasonableness of human progress develops ever increasingly out of the inner conflict of social forces in history itself; according to this interpretation history itself is the bearer and realizer of human progress. The most important thing here is the increasing historical awareness of the decisive role played in human progress by the struggle of classes in history. The new spirit of historical writing, which is most clearly visible in the important French historians of the Restoration period, concentrates precisely on this question: on showing historically how modem bourgeois society arose out of the class struggles between nobility and bourgeoisie, out of class struggles which raged throughout the entire ‘idyllic Middle Ages’ and whose last decisive stage was the great French Revolution. These ideas produce the first attempt at a rational periodization of history, an attempt to comprehend the historical nature and origins of the present rationally and scientifically.

(Georg Lukács, The Historical Novel (London: Merlin Press, 1989), 27–28.)
15. ↑ Massimiliano Tomba, Marx’s Temporalities (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 22.
16. ↑ The Holy Family, in MECW, vol. 4, 130.
17. ↑ Ibid., 39.
18. ↑ The German Ideology is frequently described as a work that treats philosophy as a mere epiphenomenon of material class relations, or as simply bourgeois mysticism. But in their polemic against Max Stirner, Marx and Engels defend certain philosophers for their progressive contributions to humanity. This includes praise for the Stoic tradition and for Epicurus as a radical Enlightener: “Epicurus…was the true radical Enlightener of antiquity; he openly attacked the ancient religion, and it was from him, too, that the atheism of the Romans, insofar as it existed, was derived. For this reason, too, Lucretius praised Epicurus as the hero who was the first to overthrow the gods and trample religion underfoot.” The German Ideology, in MECW, vol. 5, 141–42. As we can see, Israel even ignores Marx’s own use of the phrase radical Enlightenment.
19. ↑ Manifesto of the Communist Party, in MECW, vol. 6, 487.
20. ↑ Ibid.
21. ↑ For Hegel’s discussion of Diderot, see Hegel, Enlightenment, and Revolution.
22. ↑ In On the Jewish Question (1843), Marx pointed out that abstract rights to property and religion presupposed an unequal and alienated society. Any society in which private property and religion predominate, such as in the United States, is not a truly humanized one, but still alienated. While political emancipation is certainly an achievement, it is not enough if it stays at the political level and ignores the so-called private realm of civil society. Thus, the problem is not that American society is secular, but since it rests on an alienated bourgeois reality, it is not secular enough. See “On the Jewish Question,” in MECW, vol. 3, 146–47.
23. ↑ Manifesto, 512.



Around the time of the Manifesto, Marx also wrote,


The workers know that the abolition of bourgeois property relations is not brought about by preserving those of feudalism. They know that the revolutionary movement of the bourgeoisie against the feudal estates and the absolute monarchy can only accelerate their own revolutionary movement. They know that their own struggle against the bourgeoisie can only dawn with the day when the bourgeoisie is victorious. Despite all this they do not share Herr Heinzen’s bourgeois illusions. They can and must accept the bourgeois revolution as a precondition for the workers’ revolution. However, they cannot for a moment regard it as their ultimate goal.

(“Moralising Criticism and Critical Morality,” in MECW, vol. 6, 332–33.)

We will address how Marx changes his position on the proletariat’s relationship to bourgeois revolutions in part six of this series. Suffice it to say, following the failure of the bourgeoisie to lead revolutions on the Continent in 1848, Marx argues that the proletariat cannot simply wait for the bourgeoisie to fulfill its original democratic tasks. By the 1840s, the heroic phase of bourgeois revolutions was over, and the proletariat must now play the leading revolutionary role; it must fight not only for the older tasks of democracy, but for socialism. Hence, after the failed struggles of 1848, Marx disavows a stagist conception of revolution, committing himself to a politics of permanent revolution. On the history and politics of permanent revolution, see Neil Davidson’s How Revolutionary Were the Bourgeois Revolutions?

It is interesting to note that Davidson himself uses the phrase “radicalized Enlightenment” to describe Marx and Engels’s socialist transformation of the bourgeois Enlightenment in the Manifesto: “From these doubts [about bourgeois society] came the radicalized Enlightenment at the heart of Marxism.” Neil Davidson, How Revolutionary Were the Bourgeois Revolutions? (Chicago: Haymarket Books, 2012), 655.
24. ↑ “Marx to Kugelmann. 27 June 1870,” in MECW, vol. 43, 528.
25. ↑ In the afterword to the second German edition of Capital, Marx said,




The mystifying side of Hegelian dialectic I criticised nearly thirty years ago, at a time when it was still the fashion. But just as I was working at the first volume of “Das Kapital,” it was the good pleasure of the peevish, arrogant, mediocre ‘Epigonoi who now talk large in cultured Germany, to treat Hegel in same way as the brave Moses Mendelssohn in Lessing’s time treated Spinoza, i.e., as a “dead dog.” I therefore openly avowed myself the pupil of that mighty thinker, and even here and there, in the chapter on the theory of value, coquetted with the modes of expression peculiar to him. The mystification which dialectic suffers in Hegel’s hands, by no means prevents him from being the first to present its general form of working in a comprehensive and conscious manner. With him it is standing on its head. It must be turned right side up again, if you would discover the rational kernel within the mystical shell.

(Capital: A Critique of Political Economy, vol. 1, in MECW, vol. 35, 19.)
26. ↑ “Marx to Lassalle. 31 May 1858,” in MECW, vol. 40, 316.
27. ↑ Capital, vol. 1, in MECW, vol. 35, 311.
28. ↑ Karl Marx, Grundrisse, trans. Martin Nicolaus (New York: Vintage Books, 1973), 90.
29. ↑ Ibid., 248.
30. ↑ Capital, vol. 1, in MECW, vol. 35, 186. In a footnote to Capital, Marx contrasts Bentham — that “genius of bourgeois stupidity” — unfavorably with the more sophisticated French materialists. Marx does not dismiss the category of utility but argues that one cannot derive an adequate conception of human nature from utility alone: “The principle of utility was no discovery of Bentham. He simply reproduced in his dull way what Helvétius and other Frenchmen had said with esprit in the 18th century. To know what is useful for a dog, one must study dog-nature. This nature itself is not to be deduced from the principle of utility. Applying this to man, he that would criticise all human acts, movements, relations, etc., by the principle of utility, must first deal with human nature in general, and then with human nature as modified in each historical epoch.” Ibid., 605.
31. ↑ Capital: A Critique of Political Economy, vol. 3, in MECW, vol. 37, 807.
32. ↑ Ibid.
33. ↑ Ibid.
34. ↑ The Holy Family, in MECW, vol. 4, “131.
35. ↑ Ludwig Feuerbach and the End of Classical German Philosophy, in MECW, vol. 26, 373.
36. ↑ “Reciprocal action is the first thing that we encounter when we consider matter in motion as a whole from the standpoint of modern natural science. We see a series of forms of motion, mechanical motion, heat, light, electricity, magnetism, chemical compound and decomposition, transitions of states of aggregation, organic life, all of which, if at present we still make an exception of organic life, pass into one another, mutually determine one another, are in one place cause and in another effect, the sum-total of the motion in all its changing forms remaining the same (Spinoza: substance is causa sui strikingly expresses the reciprocal action).” The Dialectics of Nature. Fragments and Notes, in MECW, vol. 25, 511.
37. ↑ Georgi Plekhanov, “Bernstein and Materialism,” Marxists Internet Archive.
38. ↑ “Preparatory Writings for Anti-Dühring,” in MECW, vol. 25, 603.
39. ↑ Ibid.
40. ↑ Critique of the Gotha Programme, in MECW, vol. 24, 86.
41. ↑ Ibid., 87. According to Eric Hobsbawm, the phrase “From each according to their ability, to each according to their needs!” was originally a Saint-Simonian one. Eric Hobsbawm, How to Change the World: Reflections on Marx and Marxism, 29–30.



While Saint-Simon himself eschewed the Jacobin Terror, he defended the achievements of the French Revolution, and his conception of history and utopian socialism built on Enlightenment ideas. According to the Marxist historian Samuel Bernstein, “Saint-Simon set himself the objective of founding the science of man. He desired to follow in the tradition of Newton, and he conceived of science as organized and directed toward the improvement of mankind. Equally with other great Utopians, he looked to those in power for the fulfillment of his dream.” Samuel Bernstein, “Saint-Simon’s Philosophy of History,” Science & Society 12, no. 1 (Winter 1948): 85.

In Louis Blanc’s speech of 1848 (“A Community of Labor”), we find an early popularization of the slogan that Marx would adopt. The French reformist said, “The ideal toward which humanity must proceed is the following: to produce according to its powers, to consume according to its needs” [authors’ translation]. The original French reads, “L’idéal vers lequel la société doit se mettre en marche est donc celui-ci: produire selon ses forces, consommer selon ses besoins.” Louis Blanc, Pages d’histoire de la Révolution de Février, 1848 (Paris: Imprimerie et Librairie de V Wouters, 1850), 217.
42. ↑ Helen Macfarlane, Red Republican (London: Unkant Press, 2014), 66–67.
43. ↑ Ibid., 139.


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Tags: History

Monday, January 17, 2022

Marx on nothingness in Buddhism

Pradip Baksi

Abstract:
Marx had made two near identical statements on the concept of nothingness

(Sanskrit:Śūnyatā;Pali:Suññatā; Vietnamese:Không) in some forms of Buddhism in two of his letters written on 18and 20 March 1866. He wrote those letters while suffering from
hidradenitis suppurativa and residing as a medical tourist in Margate, England. He arrived at his understanding of nothingness in Buddhism from the following books of his intimate friend
 Carl (Karl) Friedrich Koeppen(Köppen) (1808-1863):
Die Religion des Buddha, 2 Bde. Erster Band.
Die Religion des Buddhaund ihre Entstehung, 1857. Zweiter Band.
Die lamaische Hierarchie und Kirche, 1859; Berlin:Ferdinand Schneider.

 Marx’s personal copies of these books appear to be lost; they are not yet
indicated in the reconstructed catalog :MEGA 2 IV/32. 

The above indicated statements of Marx may be treated as the ground zero for future investigations on the interrelationships of Marxism's and Buddhism's. Many currents of Buddhism and Marxism have converged in Vietnam over many years from many directions. That has created some unique opportunities for the future emergence of scientific investigation on the teachings of Siddhartha Gautam Buddha and those of Karl Marx from within the contemporary societies there.



Engels, Dialectics and Buddhism

Ramkrishna Bhattacharya

The paper explores the sources from which Frederick Engels might have got his idea of the Buddhists of India being adepts in dialectics.

The book that has come down to us under the title Dialectics of Nature
is strictly speaking not a book but an edited version of four folders containing miscellaneous notes and jottings left unfinished by their author, Frederick Engels. The material was never published in Engels’s life time although parts of it were published in 1896 and1898 posthumously. The full text of the manuscripts was first published in the then USSR in 1925 alongside a Russian translation. Later editions and translations mostly follow the text and the arrangements of the folders made in the 1941 Russian edition. Neither Marx nor Lenin had seen the drafts that Engels had been preparing for along time. Yet Dialectics of Nature is Engels’s most significant contribution to the extension of the area of dialectics to the natural sciences.

Marx had encouraged Engels to take up this work in right earnest and Engels felt it incumbent upon him to establish dialectics in the domain of nature as in the world of man. In spite of many errors and shortcomings in the work, nuggets of wisdom as well as pregnant hypotheses make the work more valuable as a quarry of ideas rather than a finished formulation to be treated as the outcome of detailed research and analysis. Everything was in the draft stage. Engels certainly would not have published the draft without drastic revision. That there are glaring errors in the drafts has been pointed out by the Marxists themselves. 

J.B.S. Haldane, for instance, in his Preface to the first English translation of
Dialectics of Nature (1940/1946), noted: ‘In the essay on “Tidal Friction,” Engels made a serious mistake, or more accurately a mistake which would have been serious had he published it. But I very much doubt whether he would have done so. … I have little doubt that either he or one of his scientific friends such as Schorlemmer would have detected the mistake in the essay on “Tidal friction.” But even as a mistake it is interesting, because it is one of the mistakes which lead to a correct result…. Such mistakes have been extremely fruitful in the history of science

Elsewhere there are statements which are certainly untrue, for example, in the sections on stars and Protozoa. But here Engels cannot be blamed for following some of the best astronomers and zoologists of his day. The technical improvement of the telescope and microscope has of course led to great increases in our knowledge here in the last sixty years’ (xi).In spite of all this, Haldane frankly admitted: ‘Had his (sc. Engels’s) remarks on Darwinism been generally known, I for one would have been saved a certain amount of muddled thinking’ (xiv). Hence, what Sebastiano Timpanaro said about Lenin’s Materialism and Empirio-criticism – ‘the value of which is no way affected by the ten or fifty errors in physics which can be found in it’ (42) – also applies to Dialectics of Nature

Friday, April 11, 2025

 

Friedrich Engels and the theory of the labour aristocracy


Published 
Friedrich Engels

[Editor’s note: This is a slightly edited and updated version, including several missing footnotes, of an article that was first published on LINKS International Journal of Socialist Renewal in 2007. The original version can still be found here.]

The theory of the labour aristocracy argues that opportunism in the working class has a material basis. The superprofits of monopoly capital support the benefits of a stratum of relatively privileged workers, whose interests in this are expressed by class-collaborationist politics. Karl Marx and, especially, Friedrich Engels, first developed this theory. It is most closely associated with Vladimir Lenin, however, for whom it became “the pivot of the tactics in the labour movement that are dictated by the objective conditions of the imperialist era.”1

Many revolutionaries who claim Lenin as an influence nevertheless reject the theory. They deny the character of imperialism as monopoly capitalism, the existence of the labour aristocracy or the stability of opportunism. Their method mimics the empiricism of bourgeois economics, political science and sociology rather than following Marx and Engels’ injunction to study history. Their acceptance of the results of this reflects the very often dominant position of opportunism in the working-class movement.

This article considers the scope and significance of the theory and its application by Engels to understanding the politics of the English working class in the latter half of the nineteenth century. A second article will discuss Lenin’s development of the theory (using principally German and US historical examples); the strategies and tactics he proposed and controversies surrounding the theory about the source and nature of the “bribe” to the labour aristocracy; the stratum’s composition; and the relationship of the labour aristocracy to the labour bureaucracy and the rest of the class. The final article in the series will apply the theory of the labour aristocracy to an understanding of the history of the Australian working class.

The theory of the labour aristocracy

In 1913, Lenin asked how the Australian Labor Party, as the workers’ representatives, could predominate in parliament “and yet the capitalist system is in no danger?” His answer was that the ongoing formation of Australia as an independent capitalist state and the formation of the Australian working class by the migration of liberal British workers determined the liberal-bourgeois character of the ALP. The party concerned itself with what elsewhere had been done by parties representing liberal capitalists:

Naturally, when Australia is finally developed and consolidated as an independent capitalist state, the condition of the workers will change, as also will the liberal Labour Party, which will make way for a socialist workers’ party … The rule is: a socialist workers’ party in a capitalist country. The exception is: a liberal Labour Party which arises only for a short time by virtue of specific conditions that are abnormal for capitalism in general.2

When most of the parties of the Socialist International supported their own states in World War I, however, Lenin changed his view about the rule. “Certain groups of workers have already drifted away to opportunism”,3 he noted, “sacrificing the fundamental interests of the masses to the temporary interests of an insignificant minority of the workers or, in other words, an alliance between a section of the workers and the bourgeoisie, directed against the mass of the proletariat”4 through “class collaboration, repudiation of the dictatorship of the proletariat, repudiation of revolutionary action, unconditional acceptance of bourgeois legality, confidence in the bourgeoisie and lack of confidence in the proletariat.”5 He argued:

… economically, the desertion of a stratum of the labour aristocracy to the bourgeoisie has matured and become an accomplished fact; and this economic fact, this shift in class relations, will find political form, in one shape or another, without any particular “difficulty” … a “bourgeois labour party is inevitable and typical in all imperialist countries … unless a determined and relentless struggle is waged all along the line against these parties — or groups, trends, etc., it is all the same — there can be no question of a struggle against imperialism, or of Marxism, or of a socialist labour movement.6

Lenin considered that “opportunism was engendered in the course of decades by the special features in the period of the development of capitalism, when the comparatively peaceful and cultured life of a stratum of privileged workingmen ‘bourgeoisified’ them.”7 It developed, he noted elsewhere, “between 1871 and 1914 … first as a mood, then as a trend, and finally [forming] a group or stratum among the labour bureaucracy and petty-bourgeois fellow-travellers.”8 With the start of the war, opportunism matured, in the form of social-chauvinism “to such a degree that the continued existence of this bourgeois abscess within the socialist parties has become impossible.”9 For revolutionaries, in reality, this meant “a split with the social-chauvinists was inevitable” because of the “most profound connection, the economic connection, between the imperialist bourgeoisie and the opportunism which has triumphed (for long?) in the labour movement.”10

Lenin’s key collaborator at the time, Grigory Zinoviev, in a survey of the social roots of opportunism, cited Australia only as an exceptional example of the relationship between the labour aristocracy and its leadership in the labour bureaucracy, and class collaboration:

The reactionary role of the “socialist bureaucracy” appears nowhere so ostentatiously as in Australia, that veritable promised land of social reformism … the Australian labour movement has been a constant prey of leaders on the make for careers. Upon the backs of the labouring masses there arise, one after another, little bands of aristocrats of labour, from the midst of which the future labour ministers spring forth, ready to do loyal service to the bourgeoisie. All these Holmans, Cooks and Fishers were once workers. They act the part of workers even now. But in reality they are only agents of the financial plutocracy in the camp of the workers.

The caste of the “leaders” here appears quite openly as a unique type of jobs trust for functionaries …These “leaders” have proved to be the worst sort of chauvinists. The majority of the workers pronounced themselves against the introduction of conscription in Australia. But Fisher and his friends continue to represent the views of the bourgeoisie.11

Lenin’s formulation was and remains provocative. It was a theoretical foundation for the formation of the Third International and its Communist parties. Even among the revolutionary left, however, many have subsequently rejected it either wholesale, as divisive in the labour movement or referring to a historical curiosity, or so much of it that any remnant of the labour aristocracy must be insignificant. The theory that the social basis of opportunism was and is found in a relatively privileged stratum of the working class — the labour aristocracy — is controversial because it partly contradicts other elements of the discussion in historical materialism about the dynamics of working-class radicalisation and because of the political conclusions that flow from it about the strategy and tactics to fight opportunism.

The starting point of the historical materialist discussion of working-class politics and class consciousness is the material determination of ideas and especially “the conditioning of social, political and intellectual life processes in general” by the mode of production of material life. Working-class radicalisation must, therefore, “be explained … from the contradictions of material life, from the existing conflict between the social productive forces and the relations of production”, such as the fettering of the productive forces and the class antagonism and social crises of mature capitalism.12 The history of the working-class movement, however, denies all argument that revolutionary class consciousness among workers develops in lockstep with the intensification of the fundamental contradictions of the capitalist mode of production.

Much of the discussion has been concerned with explaining the separation of economic and political struggles in the working-class movement, which results in the working class not spontaneously confronting capital’s political power, concentrated in the state, and with the means for overcoming this separation.

In this discussion, “alien” social elements in the working class and its movement — workers with petty-bourgeois backgrounds or the desire to enter the ranks of the petty bourgeoisie, or intellectuals attracted to the workers' movement,13 and occupational, sexual, racial, ethnic, national, religious or other divisions — have been proposed as important barriers to the development of working-class unity in opposition to capitalism. Bourgeois ideological influence has also emerged in the discussion as a key concern, whether this has been understood to result from: the capitalist domination of the means of ideological dissemination; the structural separation in capitalism of a sphere of political and juridical equality from that of capitalist exploitation in the productive sphere;14 or workers’ experience as sellers of labour-power, which confines their perspective, through commodity fetishism, of their social relations to capitalists to that of equal or unfair exchanges of wages for labour-power, and their organisations to their sectional origins and ongoing operation within the capitalist system.

The focus of the response to these conditions of division and bourgeois ideological influence in the working class has been the view that the working class must, in order to conquer political power, carry out a social revolution and ultimately abolish classes, form a political party of its own. This strategic concept was already formulated and acted upon in the nineteenth century. It became more defined, reflecting an understanding of the impact of these conditions, however, on the basis of the experience of the Russian revolutionary movement in the first two decades of the twentieth century:

  • The party, in order to express the proletariat’s hegemonic aim of overthrowing capitalism, must organise, principally, revolutionaries, rather than the class as a whole.

  • The party needs to carry out the broadest possible political work (not restricted, for example, by the boundaries of legality). Workers’ political class consciousness involves understanding the relationships between all the various classes and strata of modern society and acting as a revolutionary socialist with regard to these. Therefore, its acquisition, through the experience of struggle, cannot occur in the sphere of relations between employers and workers alone.

The perspective of a party as the leadership of the working class, with a consciousness different from that arising spontaneously among workers, posed anew the problem of how working people can develop as revolutionaries and as a mass revolutionary movement. The solutions offered included: persistent effort to educate and train politically active workers as revolutionaries without them losing contact with their fellow workers; the role of a revolutionary situation and its resultant mass action, such as strike waves, in opening the way for the party to connect closely with a movement of the mass of the population; and the capacity of the party to reshape its theory and pose its slogans and demands so that these broader masses can see from their own experience that the political strategy and tactics of the party are correct.

This perspective, however, still considers that all parts of the working class can become revolutionary.15 The political activity of the more advanced workers is different from the rest of the class only because it is “all-sided and all-embracing political agitation … work that brings closer and merges into a single whole the elemental destructive force of the masses and the conscious destructive force of the organisation of revolutionaries.”16

Lenin argued that capitalism would necessarily find support within the labour aristocracy, however. Considering the question whether some of the opportunists could return to revolutionary socialism, he responded: “This is possible, but it is an insignificant difference in degree, if the question is regarded from its political, i.e., its mass aspect.” His theory was not concerned with the consciousnesses of individual workers from the labour aristocracy, but with how, historically, an influential part of the workers from it had reached settlements with “their” capitalists.17 He continued: “The social chauvinist or (what is the same thing) opportunist trend can neither disappear nor ‘return’ to the revolutionary proletariat … There is not the slightest reason for thinking that these parties will disappear before the social revolution.”18

Thus there are two political trends in the working class, pitted against each other in a process of struggle: the opportunist, an alliance of parts of the class with the bourgeoisie which is underpinned by the relative privileges of the labour aristocracy; and the revolutionary, rooted in the elements of the class emerging as its spontaneous movement, the starting point for the development of revolutionary consciousness.19 Lenin wrote: “In the epoch of imperialism, the proletariat has split into two international camps, one of which has been corrupted by the crumbs that fall from the table of the dominant-nation bourgeoisie.”20

Tony Cliff, in his 1957 article “Economic Roots of Reformism”, rejected Lenin’s theory, claiming it means “a small thin crust of conservatism hides the revolutionary urges of the mass of the workers.”21 He stated that, instead, in the advanced capitalist countries “reformism, a belief in the possibility of major improvement in conditions under capitalism”, had been solid and “spread throughout the working class, frustrating and largely isolating all revolutionary minorities” for the previous half century. Reformism, he said, “reflects the immediate, day-to-day, narrow, national interests of the whole of the working class in Western capitalist countries under conditions of general economic prosperity”, which include imperialist access to colonial markets. He expected the eventual withering away of this prosperity, which, he said, had already been seriously undermined in the 1930s, before it had gained a new lease of life through the imperialists’ war economy. With the removal of the foundation of reformism, which at the same time would end the basis on which the reformist labour bureaucracy could effectively discipline the working class (“the extent [to which] the economic conditions of the workers themselves are tolerable”), only the idea would linger on. He said this could then be overthrown by the conscious revolutionary action of socialists, whose main task, facilitated by sharpening social contradictions, is to “unite and generalise the lessons drawn from the day-to-day struggle.”

The period Cliff discussed, however, included both times of capitalist prosperity, with relatively high employment levels and rising living standards for workers, which were the expansionary phases of long waves of capitalist development that began at the end of the nineteenth century and soon after World War II, and the period of social crisis and stagnation spanning the two world wars and the Great Depression.22 In this last period, then, capitalism’s contradictions and social antagonisms intensified, spurring the spontaneous element of the proletarian movement. Workers came into struggle regardless of their previous consciousness. Consequently, reformism was not solid in the sense suggested in Cliff’s argument; that is, that the spontaneous movement was insufficient for a successful party intervention. Moreover, on this basis revolutionary politics did penetrate the working class in this period, although unevenly among its different strata.

Thus, the absence of successful revolutionary struggles other than the Russian Revolution cannot be explained by a lack of revolutionary situations. Lenin considered what social force, conditioned by features of the capitalist mode of production other than the erstwhile prosperity of past times, limited the workers’ class struggle and the development upon it of a political class consciousness. Cliff instead returned to the point from which Lenin had then set out — the revolutionary party intervening to overcome the separation, as confrontations with capital, of the economic and political struggle of the working class — but he turned the party’s task back to front, since the dominance of reformist consciousness in the mass of the working class must be overcome before it can struggle in a revolutionary manner.23

John Kelly, in Trade Unions and Socialist Politics, assessed Lenin’s analysis as “unsatisfactory”. Lenin, he said, was unclear about “under what conditions … well-paid workers play a reactionary role and under what conditions a progressive role.” He noted, for example, that Lenin discussed the metalworkers in the 1905 Russian revolution being not only “the best paid” but also “the most class conscious” part of the Russian proletariat.24

Kelly’s inability to discern how Lenin applied the theory of the labour aristocracy was partly a result of his view that Lenin believed “the long-term stagnation and decline of capitalism in the imperialist era … and its effects on workers’ living standards … would ultimately push them into support for socialism.”25 Lenin believed this, to a certain extent, with regard to the mass of the working class. He was confronted, however, by working-class movements, in countries such as England and Germany, which were, industrially and politically, the older and better organised ones, and yet they had united with their bourgeoisies in the war, rather than, as they had previously resolved, using this crisis “to rouse the people”, and they would go on to oppose revolutions.26 He perceived that, contrary to earlier expectations, the existence of opportunism within the working class is relatively resistant to the impact of the crises of capitalism: “The nearer the revolution approaches, the more strongly it flares up and the more sudden and violent the transitions and leaps in its progress, the greater will be the part the struggle of the revolutionary mass stream against the opportunist petty-bourgeois stream will play in the labour movement.”27

The theory of the labour aristocracy explains opportunism, not other forms of reformism. It distinguishes opportunism from the reformism of a working class that has no significant experience of struggle, is taking new steps in the class struggle, or is stepping back in the struggle in the middle of an expansionary phase of a capitalist long wave of development. It considers the effect of a common feature of all the countries where monopoly capitalism is based, rather than, for example, the peculiar (although not, in fact, absolutely distinctive) forces that Mike Davis, in his study of the political history of the US working class, observed had pulled apart the US labour movement28 and consolidated “a relationship between the American working class and American capitalism that stands in striking contrast to the balance of class forces in other capitalist states”, in which “the American working class … lacking any broad array of collective institutions or any totalizing agent of class consciousness (that is, a class party) has been increasingly integrated into American capitalism through the negativities of its internal stratification, its privatisation in consumption, and its disorganisation vis-à-vis political and trade-union bureaucracies”, instead of being politically “incorporated” through labour reformism.29 It shows that opportunism’s basis lies in the mode of production, rather than in the separation of economics and politics, but not in what are necessarily temporary periods of prosperity weakening the antagonism in the relationship between capital and wage labour. Instead, the basis of opportunism is the development, as a result of the combined and uneven development of capitalism as a whole, of monopoly relations in production among industries, regions and nations. These relations create superprofits, from which benefits for sections of workers can be supported.

The labour aristocracy, therefore, has a complex of interests. Its fundamental class interests stem from its exploitation by capital because it is part of the working class. It is also tied to its national bourgeoisie’s fortunes as monopoly capitalists because of the basis of its privileged position. Lenin summarised the economic roots and political and social significance of this in 1920:

Obviously, out of such enormous superprofits (since they are obtained over and above the profits which capitalists squeeze out of the workers of their “own” country) it is possible to bribe the labour leaders and the upper stratum of the labour aristocracy. And that is just what the capitalists of the “advanced” countries are doing: they are bribing them in a thousand different ways, direct and indirect, overt and covert.

This stratum of workers-turned-bourgeois, or the labour aristocracy, who are quite philistine in their mode of life, in the size of their earnings and in their outlook, is the principal prop of the Second International, and in our days, the principal social (not military) prop of the bourgeoisie. For they are the real agents of the bourgeoisie in the working-class movement, the labour lieutenants of the capitalist class, real vehicles of reformism and chauvinism. In the civil war between the proletariat and the bourgeoisie they inevitably, and in no small numbers, take the side of the bourgeoisie, the “Versaillais” against the “Communards.”30

According to Lenin, then, the relative privilege of the labour aristocracy is necessarily the basis for the existence of an opportunist trend in the working class. This argument does not, however, confirm Kelly’s suggestion that the theory of the labour aristocracy is, within Marxism, a “simple economic determinism”, in which the conditions of the productive sphere immediately determine other social phenomena, to which he contrasted a “complex economic determinism” of only ultimate determination by the sphere of production.31 This is only partly because the latter is involved in a conception of complex material determination in which political and ideological phenomena play their part, in particular with regard to the forms which historical struggles take, because, as Engels noted when he introduced a discussion of the “relative autonomy” of the these two spheres, “where there is division of labour on a social scale, the separate labour processes become independent of each other.” Also significant in this conception is the complementary (and necessary, because otherwise social phenomena do remain simply, if less immediately, reducible to their economic basis, with their political and ideological forms only mediating this) reason Engels gave:

History proceeds in such a way that the final result always arises from conflicts between many individual wills, and every one of them is in turn made into what it is by a host of particular conditions of life. Thus there are innumerable intersecting forces … and what emerges is something that no one intended.32

The significance of this combination is that not only is the relationship between a condition and an action not direct (Kelly elsewhere distinguishes between material interests and material practices as determinants, but does not consistently apply this33), but that the existence of various conditions of life implies the existence of various, conflicting actions, and the results of such conflict cannot be predetermined by the conditions of life and, also, in turn, affect them.

The theory of the labour aristocracy studies, in particular, the impact on that part of the working class of the interaction of two different social relations of production. This conditions a conflict of practices, including opportunism, within the stratum. The role of any particular group of these relatively privileged workers, however, is resolved only in the course of the class struggle.34

Marx and Engels on the labour aristocracy in 19th century England

Lenin found inspiration for his theory of the labour aristocracy in comments made by Marx and Engels between 1858-92 on the opportunist and revolutionary trends in the English working class.35 Engels, for example, remarked that “the English proletariat is actually becoming more and more bourgeois”.36 He found repugnant a “bourgeois ‘respectability’, which has grown deep into the bones of the workers.”37 He also described the workers’ political thinking as the same as the bourgeoisie’s.38 Marx said that “almost all” the English working-class leaders “have sold themselves.”39 They contrasted the “skilled labourers”40 and textile workers41 — with their “‘old’ conservative trade unions, rich and therefore cowardly”42 who were “an aristocratic minority”43 that engaged in “a narrow circle of strikes for higher wages and shorter hours … as the ultimate goal”, excluded “all participation in any general activity of the working class as a class” so that “no real labour movement in the Continental sense exists”,44 were “quite remote” from the socialist movement that emerged in the 1880s,45 and were recognised as “the bourgeois labour party” in their opposition to a demand for eight hour day legislation46 — with a poorer and generationally newer majority of workers47 who eventually began an “utterly different” movement, still formally of trade unions but “mostly among the hitherto stagnant lowest strata”,48 which was “shaking up society far more profoundly and putting forward much more far-reaching demands … the people regard their immediate demands as only provisional, although they themselves do not yet know toward what final goal they are working. But this vague notion has a strong enough hold on them to make them elect as leaders only downright Socialists.”49 They also suggested these circumstances were connected to England’s monopoly of the world market and colonies.50

Engels linked the histories of the general condition of the working class, the situation of its better off sections, the characteristics of the leadership of the English working-class movement and the position of English industry in an 1885 article,51 the text of which he later incorporated into prefaces, with additional comments, of editions of his 1844 book on the condition of the working class.52 This persistent argument contradicts the claim made by Kevin Corr and Andy Brown that no consistent analysis of the labour aristocracy by Marx and Engels is evident53 as well as Tom O’Lincoln’s assertion that Marx and Engels “never reformulated their original ideas [of a straightforward development of workers’ struggles from unions confronting the capitalists to political opposition] in any systematic way.”54 Marx’s and Engels’ comments, at different times, did vary the emphasis in their argument, but their analysis developed into an often repeated theme55 of the relation between England’s domination of the world market and the corruption of the English working class.

According to Engels, a sharpening social crisis in the middle of the 1840s in England was resolved, in reaction to revolutions of 1848, by the political consolidation of capitalist class rule and the disorganisation and consequent collapse of the Chartist movement. Then a revival of trade initiated a new industrial epoch involving a world market, which at first consisted of agricultural countries grouped around England as the sole manufacturing centre: the renewal of economic prosperity was attributed to the victorious manufacturing capitalists' free trade policies. These two developments turned the working-class movement politically into the tail of the manufacturers’ Liberal Party, while the manufacturers had learned, in their struggle with Chartists over the priority of free trade as a national question, that they could “never obtain full social and political power over the nation except with the help of the working class.”56

Relations between the classes then gradually changed, Engels said. The capitalists submitted to the application and extension of the Factory Acts, recognised the legitimacy of the unions, and repealed the harshest laws governing workers’ relations to their employers. The Chartist political demands were partially implemented: suffrage was extended, the secret ballot implemented, the electoral boundaries reformed and payment of members introduced.

The mass of the working class experienced “temporary improvement” in their situation in the long boom from 1850 to 1870. This was, however, subject to reversal through the impact of unemployment and industrial restructuring.

Only two “protected” sections achieved a permanent improvement in their circumstances. Factory hands, through the legal limiting of the working day, gained sustainable living conditions and “a moral superiority, enhanced by their local concentration”; their strikes were now usually provoked by the manufacturers to cut production. Unions of skilled, “grown-up men” who had resisted competition from both cheaper labour and machinery had developed good relations with their employers and “enforc[ed] … a relatively comfortable position … [which] they accept as final.”57

As for “so-called workers’ representatives”, they were, Engels said, “people who are forgiven their being members of the working class because they themselves would like to drown their quality of being workers in the ocean of their liberalism.”58

From 1876, however, English industry stagnated as it was subjected to competition by the rise of other manufacturing nations. “The manufacturing monopoly … the pivot of the present social system of England”, was on the way out, and only England’s monopoly of colonial markets served as a buffer against collapse. The working class, which had shared (very unevenly) in the benefits of the monopoly, would lose its privileged position, not excluding “the privileged and leading minority”, Engels suggested. Therefore, socialism could and was already arising in England again, but the most important movement was “New Unionism”, which did not “look upon the wages system as … once-for-all established.”59

Marx and Engels, therefore, did not consider the labour aristocracy principally as a stratum in the working class. They were concerned about it as a shift in class relations that involved a historical connection of capitalist monopoly to opportunism. Changes in the political and sociological characteristics of the working class were a consequence of that.60

Contemporary political commentators on the phenomenon of the late nineteenth century labour aristocracy generally recognised its existence,61 but among twentieth century historians this was debated. Corr and Brown reviewed this discussion, critiquing the work of Eric Hobsbawm and John Foster, both of whom argued for the existence of a labour aristocracy. They concluded the labour aristocracy was not “the crucial element in explaining the change in class struggle” in the nineteenth century from the revolutionary Chartist movement of the first half to reformist trade unionism in the second half.62 Instead, they argued that the restabilisation and reorientation of the capitalist economy, the gradual but effective seizure of political control by the capitalists, and the defeats suffered by working-class movements in Britain and Europe in the 1840s compelled an adaptive reorientation of working-class politics to forms more restricted in scope and less able to mobilise mass working-class support: “The consequences of this for working class radicalism were very marked. It made the permanence of industrial capitalism for the foreseeable future a hard fact of life.” Therefore previous radical ideologies and their political forms “lost their relevance and appeal”, some forms of industrial struggle were excluded, and struggles at work were about wages and working conditions, not formal control of the means of production. “Political challenges to the system of established industrial capitalism … required [a] reconstitution of working class politics [which] took decades.”63

Corr and Brown’s argument has a number of weaknesses. It suggested they believed the working class must acquire revolutionary consciousness before a commitment to the struggle rather than first expressing its revolutionary character in its actions.64 Also, according to the reading of Hobsbawm and Foster by Corr and Brown, the two labour aristocracy advocates did not agree with Engels on the connection between monopoly power and its creation of superprofits and the labour aristocracy as a shift in class relations. Hobsbawm sought to establish the existence of a labour aristocracy by studying differences among workers across a range of measures of living standards and social status, before concluding “the relatively favourable terms [the labour aristocracy] got were to a large extent actually achieved at the expense of their less favoured colleagues, not merely at the expense of the rest of the world.”65 Foster related the higher wages of the labour aristocrats to “authority at work”, this being his differentiating feature for the stratum, which then became socially separated from the rest of the working class by its subculture.

Most significantly, the evidence Corr and Brown presented did not sustain a view contrary to Engels’. In opposition to the view that a relatively privileged section of the working class existed as a socially and politically significant stratum, they cited: the higher general wage levels of industries which had a larger proportion of high wage earners, and increases in general wage levels, to argue no break in the gradation of earnings can be identified that separates labour aristocrats from other workers; claims of high unemployment in many skilled trades in mid-nineteenth century London;66 the determination, according to Foster, of labour aristocrats’ wages “through the markets in response to union bargaining”,67 which, they said, was “a mechanism … suspiciously like that by which all wages are paid”; the insecurity of the position of the supposed labour aristocrats, demonstrated by their need for union organisation to defend their conditions; and the insignificant differences in the voting patterns of skilled and supervisory workers and unskilled workers found in a study of two cities, one dominated by textile industries, the other by engineering.

Engels had not confined the labour aristocracy to skilled workers, however: the factory hands he included were to be found in the leading industries, of which cotton was already established in 1848 and iron, steel and machine building were rising. The relative privilege, materially, of his labour aristocrats was only that their wages had risen above poverty levels, which provided the funds not only for a generally higher standard of living but also for these workers’ membership of benefit societies, cooperatives and unions (financially still dominated by benefit payments); their average unemployment was lower than for the rest of the class and their hours of works were reduced.

Robert Clough referred to two studies, conducted after the end of this period, that suggest significant differentiation in earnings and employment had developed, contrary to the claims of Corr and Brown: one found that in 1900 average skilled workers’ wages were forty shillings per week, those of unskilled workers were 20-25s and women and agricultural workers averaged 15s, while unskilled workers could expect three times higher unemployment, and less job security, than skilled workers; the other, from 1911 estimated “30 shillings per week was the minimum to sustain an adequate family existence, but five million out of eight million manual workers earned less than this: the average for these five million workers was 22 shillings.”68 With regard to working hours, Marx shows that in the middle of the 1860s the factory owners attempted to extend the 10-hour working day, regulated by the Factory Acts, by as much as an hour a day through “snatching a few minutes”, but that in parts of industries such as lace-making, potting, match-making, wallpaper production, baking, the railways, millinery and coal-mining, the working day could extend to up to 15 hours.69

Corr and Brown especially failed to recognise the political privileges of Victorian England’s labour aristocracy. The unions could not set the framework for overall wage determination when only a very small proportion of workers were organised. Union membership was only 600,000 out of about 10 million workers in the late 1850s and 1.5 million of 14 million people employed in trade and industry in 1892. This was in spite of the replacement of a “restricted legality” for unions by “a kind of official approval” for moderate unionism — the radicals of the working-class movement continued to suffer from government persecution70 — through legislation passed in 1855 and especially from 1868 to 1875, a situation only partly reversed by adverse judicial decisions in the 1890s which culminated in the 1901 Taff Vale judgment, which briefly made unions liable for damages from strike action. At the end of this period, the unions were still mostly the old craft unions, with the exception of the miners: the membership of the new unions fell from 300,000 in 1890 to 80,000 in 1896.71 These unions tended, moreover, in their defence of their members’ interests, to pursue exclusionary approaches: a jealous defence of job rights and trade customs, by the skilled men; against the Irish; and hostility among the old unions towards the “new unions”.72

Suffrage was similarly, if not quite as sharply, restricted, as was the exercise of the right to organise. The new residential and property qualifications of the 1867 Reform Act enfranchised 3 million; in 1884 the extension of the same qualifications to the counties created an electorate of 5 million. About half this electorate of (male) heads of households was now working class, but they were generally the older, more regularly employed and better paid workers. The mass of labourers, the casually employed and the unemployed were excluded.73 An estimate that “the vote was extended [in 1867] to only a minority of the working class (that is, to rather less than three in five of the urban wage earners)” accepts the exclusion of female and younger wage earners by the gender and age requirements of the reformed suffrage.74 This restricted franchise, not a division between skilled and unskilled workers who had the vote, was one of the fault lines between the labour aristocracy and the majority of the working class.

The workers who had the vote used this as a power in pursuit of their particular interests. Gordon Philips argued that their attachment to Liberalism

… should [not] be seen simply as a displacement of radical and working class politics; it marks, equally, the adaptation of Liberalism itself to working-class opinions and moods. Those wage earners who combined radicalism with respectability, at any rate, could find here a natural home. Liberalism, in the Gladstonian period, was not so remote from Chartism as to repel its former devotees … While not, of course, a party of the working class for itself, it was capable (at its urban base) of combining a thorough and vigorous notion of democratic government, a hatred of social privilege and an objection to monopolistic wealth, a disposition to prefer civil liberties to strenuous law enforcement, a strong leaning towards land reform, and an approval of at least some collectivist legislation on questions like factory hours, workmen’s trains and the control of the drink trade.75

According to Philips, “the weakness of Liberalism, as compared to Chartism, was its failure to embrace that large mass of wage earners who remained more or less beyond the reach of union, co-operative and Friendly Society.”76 Indeed, even in its adaptation to the working class, it did not try. Clough writes, “the free speech demonstrations in London in the late 1880s and the explosion of unskilled unionism in 1889-90 … drove sections of the working class into an alliance with Marxists and revolutionaries”, but, in opposition to these movements’ revolutionary methods, George Shipton, chairman of the London Trades Council, argued “when the people were unenfranchised, were without votes, the only power left to them was the demonstration of numbers. Now, however, the workmen have votes” — which ignored the restriction of the vote to only the better off male workers.77

When Corr and Brown instead attempted to find the labour aristocracy “in the forefront of radical politics” in England from the middle of the nineteenth century,78 they tended to further substantiate Engels’ position. This began with their agreement with Engels, who in 1851 wrote that the English bourgeoisie was “making use of the prosperity or semi-prosperity to buy the proletariat”79 (and whose 1858 remark about the “bourgeois proletariat”, referred to above, is, notably, about the whole class) on the general causes of political stabilisation at the beginning of the period. The political defeat of the Chartists was matched industrially by the earlier loss of craft control by the weavers and the spinners, and then “the decisive defeat of the Amalgamated Society of Engineers in the 1851 lockout [which] smashed the artisans in the industry, replacing them once and for all by the skilled worker in an established factory system.” At the same time, a new stage of industrialisation in, for example, iron and steel production, machinery and transport, replaced the situation where cotton was the only advanced industrial sector with a decisively broadened range and increase in volume of industrial production. With the boom, “real wages rose for the whole working class, albeit unevenly … Concessions were made by capital to secure a better incorporated working class displaying a degree of consent to its position.”80

According to Corr and Brown, “small but bitter” industrial disputes culminated in the 1859 builders’ strike, the wide support for which led to the establishment of the London Trades Council to organise solidarity. Skilled workers, they also pointed out, were involved in political activity in support of the North in the US Civil War (while the cotton factory owners favoured the South), and the 1863 Polish uprising and their unions took part in the founding of the International Workingman’s Association (IWA).

At this point, however, the two fall silent.

Corr and Brown’s inability to recognise the significance of this silence stemmed from not considering the problem for the bourgeoisie that Engels perceived: “[Its] advantage, once gained, had to be perpetuated.”81 The artisanal labour aristocracy of the first half of the nineteenth century, whose social conditions Marx and Engels distinguished clearly from those of “the mass of the workers who live in truly proletarian conditions,”82 despite the claim of Corr and Brown that this contrast was a “very imprecise” identification,83 was defeated and dissolved.

The boom could not eliminate capitalism’s contradictions or class antagonisms, however. The working-class movement started to develop spontaneously again, largely where, because of the relatively favourable employment conditions resulting from a need for skills or the leading character of the industry, the working class was best placed to organise. The capitalist class responded to this change in the balance of forces in the class struggle with concessions on legal rights to organise unions and to vote and with other actions that helped to forge a new relationship between this section of the working class and the capitalist class.

The Reform League, formed in 1865 to demand universal male suffrage and the secret ballot and led by middle-class radicals and workers, including members of the General Council of the IWA, soon received support from Liberal politicians and manufacturers: it compromised its demands by a qualification that voters should be “registered and residential”. The trade union leaders in the league were then paid to mobilise the working-class vote for the Liberals in the 1868 election.

The trade union leaders also found common cause with the Liberal politicians on Ireland, defending Prime Minister Gladstone in his suppression of the Fenian movement. The IWA, meanwhile, organised mass demonstrations in support of the Fenians.84 Engels commented: “The masses are for the Irish. The organisations and labour aristocracy in general follow Gladstone and the liberal bourgeoisie.”85

Engels thus showed how those elements in the English working class that were active in the class struggle in the period after the class’s political defeat in 1848 became a new labour aristocracy, a relatively privileged section of the class that supported England’s imperial rule, adopted a political party of the bourgeoisie as its own and excluded other workers from their more protected position. In particular, he identified as the basis for this connection of the labour aristocracy to such class-collaborationist politics, the superprofits from the English industrial and colonial monopoly, which supported the benefits of the stratum.

Engels had only one, apparently temporary, example of monopoly capitalism, however. This was not sufficient to fully grasp the features of this economic form or the framework of the class struggle in the era of monopoly capitalism. This, according to Max Elbaum and Robert Seltzer, led Engels to underestimate the capacity of English capital to transform its monopoly power and also the strength of the material basis of opportunism among English workers.86 The contribution Lenin made to the theory of the labour aristocracy, after the consolidation of monopoly capitalism, was to address the transformation of the character of monopoly capitalism when it become the general form of the capitalist mode of production and the consequences of this for revolutionary politics in the working-class movement.

  • 1

    V.I. Lenin, “Imperialism and the Split in Socialism”, in Imperialism—the Highest Stage of Capitalism, Resistance Books, Sydney, 1991, p. 131.

  • 2

    V.I. Lenin, “In Australia”, Collected Works, , Vol. 19, pp. 216-17.

  • 3

    V.I. Lenin, “Imperialism and the Split in Socialism”, ibid., Vol. 23, p. 128.

  • 4

    V.I. Lenin, “The Collapse of the Second International”, LCW, Vol. 21, p. 242.

  • 5

    V.I. Lenin, “Opportunism and the Collapse of the Second International”, LCW, Vol. 22, p. 112.

  • 6

    Lenin, “Imperialism and the Split in Socialism”, pp. 132-34.

  • 7

    Lenin, “The Collapse of the Second International”, pp. 242-43.

  • 8

    Lenin, “Opportunism and the Collapse of the Second International”, p. 111. This formulation did not refer to the labour aristocracy. In relation to the European examples Lenin was discussing, however, the labour aristocracy did not exist until towards the last decade of this period. Within a few paragraphs, he pointed out that opportunism’s class basis is “the alliance of a small section of privileged workers with ‘their’ national bourgeoisie against the working-class masses” (ibid., p. 112).

  • 9

    Lenin, “The Collapse of the Second International”, p. 244.

  • 10

    Lenin, “Imperialism and the Split in Socialism”, p. 128.

  • 11

    Grigory Zinoviev, “The Social Roots of Opportunism”, in John Riddell (ed.), Lenin's Struggle for a Revolutionary International, Monad Press, New York, 1984, pp. 483-84.

  • 12

    Karl Marx, “Preface to A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy”, in Karl Marx, and Frederick Engels, Marx-Engels Selected Works, Progress Publishers, Moscow, 1977, Vol. 1, pp. 503-04.

  • 13

    Zinoviev’s survey, for example, cites the petty bourgeoisie as one of three sources of opportunism. (op. cit., pp. 475-80, 494).

  • 14

    Perry Anderson, for example, considered the “representative state … the ideological linchpin of Western capitalism” because, he argued, it generated a “belief by the masses that they exercise an ultimate self-determination within the existing social order” (“The Antinomies of Antonio Gramsci”, New Left Review, 100, 1976-77, p. 28). Ellen Meiksins Wood, alternatively, stressed an apparent depoliticisation of domination and exploitation in the relations of production (“The Separation of the Economic and the Political in Capitalism”, New Left Review, 127).

  • 15

    Max Elbaum and Robert Seltzer, “The Labor Aristocracy: The Material Basis for Opportunism in the Labor Movement”, Line of March, May-June 1982, p. 62.

  • 16

    V.I. Lenin, “What is to Be Done?”, LCW, Vol. 5, p. 512.

  • 17

    Elbaum and Seltzer, op. cit., p. 81.

  • 18

    Lenin, “Imperialism and the Split in Socialism”, pp. 134.

  • 19

    See Robert Clough, “Watchdogs of Capitalism: the Reality of the Labour Aristocracy”, Fight Racism, Fight Imperialism, 116, December1993/January 1994.

  • 20

    V.I. Lenin, “The Discussion on Self-Determination Summed Up”, LCW, Vol. 22, p. 343.

  • 21

    Tony Cliff, “Economic Roots of Reformism”, http://www.marxist.org/archive/cliff/1957/06/rootsref.htm

  • 22

    On long waves of capitalist development, see Ernest Mandel, Late Capitalism, Verso, London, 1987, Ch. 4.

  • 23

    Clough, op. cit.

  • 24

    John Kelly, Trade Unions and Socialist Politics, Verso, London, 1988, pp. 33-34. Kelly, despite the errors discussed here, provides a valuable study of Marxism’s classical ideas and contemporary debates on the relationship of the working class’s organisation for economic struggle to its political struggle and, in particular, of strike waves and workers’ political radicalisation in Britain (Ch. 5).

  • 25

    Kelly, op. cit., p. 34

  • 26

    Elbaum and Seltzer, op. cit., p. 63.

  • 27

    Lenin, “Imperialism and the Split in Socialism”, p. 135.

  • 28

    Mike Davis, Prisoners of the American Dream, Verso, London, 1988, Chs. 1-2, especially pp. 20-29.

  • 29

    Ibid., pp. 7-8.

  • 30

    V.I. Lenin, “Preface to the French and German editions: Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism”, op. cit., p. 31.

  • 31

    Kelly, op. cit., pp. 15-18.

  • 32

    Frederick Engels in a series of letters, “To Conrad Schmidt, August 5, 1890”, “To J. Bloch in Konigsberg, September 21-22, 1890”, “To Conrad Schmidt, October 27, 1890”, “To Franz Mehring, July 14, 1893” and “To W. Borgius, January 25, 1894”, all in Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, Selected Correspondence, Progress Publishers, Moscow, 1982 [hereafter MESC]. In these letters Engels refers his readers to, as accounts of the theory and examples of its application, Marx's Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte and many allusions in Capital and his own Anti-Duhring and Ludwig Feuerbach and the End of Classical German Philosophy.

  • 33

    Kelly, op. cit., pp. 165-66.

  • 34

    Elbaum and Seltzer, op. cit., pp. 80-81.

  • 35

    V.I. Lenin, “Imperialism and the Split in Socialism”, p. 129.

  • 36

    Friedrich Engels, “To Marx, October 7, 1858”, MESC, p. 103.

  • 37

    Friedrich Engels, “To Friedrich Adolph Sorge, December 7, 1889”, in MESC, p. 386

  • 38

    Friedrich Engels, “To Karl Kautsky, September 12, 1882”, MESC, p. 330.

  • 39

    Friedrich Engels, “On the Hague Congress of the International”, in Karl Marx and Frederick Engels, Collected Works [hereafter MECW], Progress Publishers, Moscow, 1988, vol. 23, p. 265. Engels is reporting Marx’s words.

  • 40

    Friedrich Engels, “To Friedrich Adolph Sorge, December 7, 1889”, MESC, p. 385.

  • 41

    Friedrich Engels, “To Friedrich Adolph Sorge, September 14, 1891”, in Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, Letters to Americans, International Publishers, New York, 1969, p. 236.

  • 42

    Friedrich Engels, “To Friedrich Adolph Sorge, March 4, 1891”, cited in Lenin, “Imperialism and the Split in Socialism”, p. 130

  • 43

    Karl Marx, “Records of Marx’s Speeches on Trade Unions: From the Minutes of the Session of the London Conference of the International Working Men’s Association on September 20, 1871”, in MECW, Vol. 22, p. 614.

  • 44

    Friedrich Engels, “To Eduard Bernstein, June 17, 1879”, MESC, p. 301. See also Friedrich Engels, “To August Bebel, August 30, 1883”, MESC, p. 343.

  • 45

    Friedrich Engels, “To August Bebel, January 18, 1884”, in MESC, p. 348.

  • 46

    Friedrich Engels, “To Friedrich Adolph Sorge, September 14, 1891”, p. 236.

  • 47

    Karl Marx, “Records of Marx’s Speeches on Trade Unions”, in MECW, Vol. 22, p. 614.

  • 48

    Friedrich Engels, “To Friedrich Adolph Sorge, April 19, 1890”, MESC, p. 390.

  • 49

    Friedrich Engels, “To Friedrich Adolph Sorge, December 7, 1889”, in MESC, p. 385.

  • 50

    Friedrich Engels, “To Karl Kautsky, September 12, 1882”, p. 331. See also Engels, “To Marx, October 7, 1858”, MESC, p. 103, and Engels, “To August Bebel, August 30, 1883”, MESC, p. 344.

  • 51

    Friedrich Engels, “England in 1845 and 1885”, in MECW, vol. 26, pp. 295-301.52. Friedrich Engels, “Preface to The Condition of the Working Class in England”, MESW, Vol. 3, pp. 440-452.

  • 52

    Frederick Engels, "Preface to The Condition of the Working Class in England", MESW, Vol. 3, pp. 440-452.

  • 53

    Kevin Corr and Andy Brown, “The Labour Aristocracy and the Roots of Reformism”, International Socialism, 59, Summer 1993, p. 39.

  • 54

    Tom O’Lincoln, “Trade Unions and Revolutionary Oppositions: a Survey of Classic Marxist Writings”, http://www.anu.edu.au/polsci/marx/intros/ol-tu.htm, n.d., p. 1. O’Lincoln tries to add weight to this assertion by reference to Engels’ view that the links he had identified giving rise to the conservative development of the unions were only temporary.

  • 55

    Corr and Brown, op. cit., p. 43.

  • 56

    MESW, Vol. 3, p. 446.

  • 57

    Ibid., p. 448.

  • 58

    Ibid., p. 452.

  • 59

    Ibid., pp. 449-51.

  • 60

    cf. Clough, “Watchdogs of Capitalism”.

  • 61

    Robert Clough, “Haunted by the Labour Aristocracy: Marx and Engels on the Split in the Working Class”, Fight Racism, Fight Imperialism, 115, October/November 1993

  • 62

    Corr and Brown, op. cit., pp. 50-51 and 54-67. The earlier part of their article, which examines the texts of Marx, Engels and Lenin on the labour aristocracy, setting the scene (particularly by attempting to differentiate Marx’s views from those of Lenin) for their substantive argument, is criticised in Clough, “Haunted by the Labour Aristocracy” and “Watchdogs of Capitalism”.

  • 63

    Ibid., pp. 67-70.

  • 64

    Clough, “Watchdogs of Capitalism”.

  • 65

    Eric Hobsbawm, Labouring Men, p. 322, cited by Corr and Brown, op. cit., p. 61.

  • 66

    Mayhew, in E.P. Thompson and E. Yeo, The Unknown Mayhew, p. 566, cited in Corr and Brown, op. cit., p. 57. This claim is unusual, at least in its emphasis. Most commentators refer to higher, “full” employment, at least for most of the boom period 1850-1870: see, for example, Gordon Phillips, “The British Labour Movement before 1914”, in Dick Geary (ed.), Labour and Socialist Movements in Europe before 1914, Berg, Providence and Oxford, 1992. Elbaum and Seltzer stress the relatively good employment situation of the labour aristocracy even after 1876 (op. cit., p. 67).

  • 67

     John Foster, “British Imperialism and the Labour Aristocracy”, in J. Skelley (ed), 1926: The General Strike, p. 18, cited in Corr and Brown, op. cit., p. 66.

  • 68

    Robert Clough, Labour, a Party Fit for Imperialism, Larkin Publications, London, 1992, pp. 12-13 and 19-20.

  • 69

    Karl Marx, Capital: A Critique of Political Economy, Progress Publishers, Moscow, 1986, vol. 1, chs. 10 and 25.

  • 70

    Phillips, op. cit., p. 39.

  • 71

    Clough, Labour, pp. 20-21, and Phillips, op. cit., pp. 36 and 38.

  • 72

    Clough, Labour, p. 21, Elbaum and Seltzer, op. cit., p. 66, and Phillips, op. cit., p. 40.

  • 73

    Clough, Labour, pp. 14, 20-21.

  • 74

    Philips, op. cit., p. 39.

  • 75

    Ibid., p. 42.

  • 76

    Ibid., p. 42. Philips then notes this was “a weakness, likewise, of socialism and of the early Labor Party” (p. 42). Likeness of result does not indicate likeness of cause, however: the socialists struggled to gain any support, while the Labor Party was supported by the labour aristocracy instead.

  • 77

    Clough, Labour, p. 21.

  • 78

    Corr and Brown, op. cit., p. 58.

  • 79

    Friedrich Engels, “To Marx, February 5, 1851”, in MECW, vol. 38, p. 281.

  • 80

    Corr and Brown, op. cit., pp. 67-68.

  • 81

    Engels, “Preface to The Condition of the Working Class in England”, p. 446.

  • 82

    Karl Marx, and Friedrich Engels, “Review: May to October [1850]”, MECW, Vol. 10, p. 514.

  • 83

    Corr and Brown, op. cit., p. 41.

  • 84

    Clough, Labour, pp. 13-14.

  • 85

    Friedrich Engels, “From an Interview with Engels Published in the New Yorker Volkszeitung”, in Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, Ireland and the Irish Question, Progress Publishers, Moscow, 1978, p. 460.

  • 86

    Elbaum and Seltzer, op. cit., pp. 66-67.