Archive for the ‘Socialism’ Category

In 2021, the Tories surrendered the country to the medical-socialist state – Telegraph.co.uk

Its funny: Ive done a lot this year (bought a flat, bought a dog, published a book), yet its felt like one of the worst I can remember, as if Im running hard and getting nowhere. Covids to blame, but so is the cure. The Conservatives have allowed Britain to become everything they are normally elected to oppose.

If 2020 was the heroic year of the pandemic, a year of save the NHS and Operation Moonshot, 2021 was when it sank in that the virus wasnt going away, it was just going to evolve and the restrictions along with it. No, we are not locked down yet but if we do venture out, its masks, passports and in some parts of Britain rules so silly that they seem as irrational as avoiding ladders and black cats. The broadcast media is obsessed with case numbers; you cant ride a train without being lectured by the guards on etiquette. To save the NHS, we turned the entire country into an outpatients ward.

I hate hospitals. Because you go there when youre sick, obviously, but also because they tend to have a philosophy they impose upon you, of total care, minimum risk and condescension, where professors of great wisdom and parents with six kids are spoken to like children. Where else, and this was a family members recent experience, would you be ordered in and kept waiting only to be told, sorry, we havent got your results because the consultants missed their meeting so do you mind waiting another week to find out if youre going to die? And, despite the inconvenience and worry, you still hear yourself thanking them for all their hard work.

There is no point in complaining. They have all the power. The inability, or refusal, of the Conservative Party in office to reform this institution is symptomatic of the deal with the devil that it did more than a decade ago to get into office, swallowing the basic precepts of Blairism to prove Tories were nice, not nasty, and thus worthy of your vote. This reached its apogee during Covid: ministers now worship the NHS, they will raise taxes to fund it, and theyve injected it into the lives of the perfectly healthy, creating a regime of therapeutic socialism so intrusive that the Work and Pensions Secretary advised against kissing under the mistletoe. The fear of death, tallied daily, has revived the power of experts at the expense of common sense, or even a healthy sense of the absurd.

We cant condemn the Tories for expanding the state in the middle of a life-or-death emergency, but Covid and its response has been an indictment of the bureaucracys failures (our anti-pandemic plan was for the wrong disease) and lack of adaptation (where are the anti-virals?), while the willingness of society to shut itself down, no questions asked, suggests something collectivist has happened to our culture under the Tories watch.

This was also the year that wokery and cancellation seemed at a zenith, and the polls reveal a younger generation that finds some of the fundamentals of British democracy alien. We end 2021 with Labour ahead, which is down to scandal, yes, but also because they really are the party of the NHS (my local hospital, in true-blue Kent, flies a banner with Nye Bevan on it) and this is their territory. As we edge towards higher taxes and soaring prices, its starting to look like their economy, too.

Lockdown would be tougher under Labour, comes the Tory response. Possibly, though Jeremy Corbyn voted against mandatory vaccinations and passports (I rather like him now hes no longer a threat to my decadent lifestyle), and while Britain is less restricted than much of Europe, this isnt because Boris Johnson is calling the shots its because he isnt.

The PM did not save your Christmas. Backbenchers who revolted and Lord Frost who resigned did, empowering key figures within the Cabinet to take a stand against the triumvirate of Boris, Gove and Hancock/Javid, who seem to have run the country since early 2020. I used to think that the only way to save the Government was to let Boris be Boris, but weve had three years now to decipher what that means in practice, and I worry that this is it. Beyond Covid and levelling up (ie give us all your money), last year Boriss passion was for fighting climate change. Its a worthy cause; Cop26 did mark some profound achievements. But its one more addition to the states workload, and though voters insist that they care, they might feel differently once the bills pile up.

Any drumbeat compelling us to care, like the constant advice on masks and handwashing, undermines the voluntary instinct to do the right thing. I paraphrase Caroline Lucas, the Green MP, on the ethical quagmire of mandatory vaccines: it transforms medicine from something done for the community to something done to the community.

This year has crystallised for me one of the things that most defines the conservative personality: a hatred of being told what to do. Its not crude individualism; most conservatives happily juggle loyalties, including family and faith, and carry obligations as comfortably as a tortoise does its shell. But they dont like being swept up in utopian dreams, or taking orders from people who want to change them to suit their design for life. The themes of lockdown and climate change are conservative: self-sacrifice, conservation. The methods have been anything but. The idea that we must never go back to a pre-2020 normal, that this is a wake-up call to change everything, is frightening.

All human beings have a need for security, and the state provides that, but they also require privacy some peace from political projects and freedom to mix, travel, make mistakes and occasionally pull off a crazy plan: in short, to define their future on their terms. Absent any other part of the culture being willing to promote the freedom necessary for us to flourish even business now seems more interested in equality and diversity than making good products the case for liberty will have to be made by our nominally Conservative Government.

The PM should avoid further restrictions as far as possible and policy should be reconfigured so that the way we get out of the pandemic puts us on a clear path to a smaller state. If Boris wont do this, there are other members of the Cabinet who might be willing to try. Another feature of the year was that the PM lost his political stardust. He has turned things around before, but this time itll require more than charm to do it. A dash of conservatism is needed.

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In 2021, the Tories surrendered the country to the medical-socialist state - Telegraph.co.uk

We Can Only Go Beyond Communism by Coming to Terms With Its History – Jacobin magazine

This is an extract from Enzo Traversos new book Revolution: An Intellectual History, available from Verso Books.

The legacy of the October Revolution is torn between two antipodal interpretations. The rise to power of the Bolsheviks appeared, on the one hand, as the announcement of a global socialist transformation; on the other hand, as the event that set the stage for an epoch of totalitarianism. The most radical versions of these opposed interpretations official communism and Cold War anti-communism also converge insofar as, for both of them, the Communist Party was a kind of demiurgic historical force.

Several decades after its exhaustion, the communist experience does not need to be defended, idealized, or demonized. It deserves to be critically understood as a whole, as a dialectical totality shaped by internal tensions and contradictions, presenting multiple dimensions in a vast spectrum of shades, from redemptive lans to totalitarian violence, from participatory democracy and collective deliberation to blind oppression and mass extermination, from the most utopian imagination to the most bureaucratic domination sometimes shifting from one to the other in a short span of time.

Like many other isms of our political and philosophical lexicon, communism is a polysemic and ultimately ambiguous word. Its ambiguity does not lie exclusively in the discrepancy that separates the communist idea from its historical embodiments. It lies in the extreme diversity of its expressions. Not only because Russian, Chinese, and Italian communism were different, but also because in the long run many communist movements underwent deep changes, despite keeping their leaders and their ideological references.

Considering its historical trajectory as a world phenomenon, communism appears as a mosaic of communisms. Sketching its anatomy, one can distinguish at least four broad forms, interrelated and not necessarily opposed to each other, but different enough to be recognized on their own: communism as revolution; communism as regime; communism as anti-colonialism; and finally, communism as a variant of social democracy.

It is important to remember the mood of the Russian Revolution, because it powerfully contributed to creating an iconic image that survived the misfortunes of the USSR and cast its shadow over the entire twentieth century. Its aura attracted millions of human beings across the world, and remained relatively well-preserved even when the aura of the communist regimes completely fell apart. In the 1960s and 1970s, it fuelled a new wave of political radicalization that not only claimed autonomy from the USSR and its allies, but also perceived them as enemies.

The Russian Revolution came out of the Great War. It was a product of the collapse of the long nineteenth century, and the symbiotic link between war and revolution shaped the entire trajectory of twentieth-century communism. Emerging from the Franco-Prussian War of 1870, the Paris Commune had been a forerunner of militarized politics, as many Bolshevik thinkers emphasized, but the October Revolution amplified it to an incomparably larger scale.

World War I transformed Bolshevism itself, altering many of its features: several canonical works of the communist tradition, like Lenins The Proletarian Revolution and the Renegade Kautsky (1918) or Leon Trotskys Terrorism and Communism (1920), simply could not be imagined before 1914. Just as 1789 introduced a new concept of revolution no longer defined as an astronomical rotation but rather as a social and political break October 1917 reframed it in military terms: a crisis of the old order, mass mobilization, dualism of power, armed insurrection, proletarian dictatorship, civil war, and a violent clash with counterrevolution.

Lenins State and Revolution formalized Bolshevism as both an ideology (an interpretation of Karl Marxs ideas) and a unity of strategic precepts distinguishing it from social democratic reformism, a politics belonging to the exhausted age of nineteenth-century liberalism. Bolshevism came out of a time of increasing brutalization, when war erupted into politics, changing its language and its practices. It was a product of the anthropological transformation that shaped the old continent at the end of the Great War.

This genetic code of Bolshevism was visible everywhere, from texts to languages, from iconography to songs, from symbols to rituals. It outlasted World War II and continued to fuel the rebellious movements of the 1970s, whose slogans and liturgies obsessively emphasized the idea of a violent clash with the state. Bolshevism created a military paradigm of revolution that deeply shaped communist experiences throughout the planet.

The European Resistance, as well as the socialist transformations in China, Korea, Vietnam, and Cuba reproduced a similar symbiotic link between war and revolution. The international communist movement was therefore envisioned as a revolutionary army formed by millions of combatants, and this had inevitable consequences in terms of organization, authoritarianism, discipline, division of labor, and, last but not least, gender hierarchies. In a movement of warriors, female leaders could only be exceptions.

The Bolsheviks were deeply convinced that they were acting in accordance with the laws of history. The earthquake of 1917 was born from the entanglement of many factors, some set in the longue dure of Russian history and others more temporary, abruptly synchronized by the war: an extremely violent peasant uprising against the landed aristocracy, a revolt of the urban proletariat affected by the economic crisis, and finally the dislocation of the army, formed of peasant-soldiers who were exhausted after three years of a terrible conflict, which they neither understood nor perceived as nearing an end.

If these were the premises of the Russian Revolution, it is difficult to grasp in it any supposed historical necessity. The Soviet experiment was fragile, precarious, and unstable during its first years of existence. It was constantly threatened, and its survival required both inexhaustible energies and enormous sacrifices. A witness to those years, Victor Serge, wrote that in 1919 the Bolsheviks considered the collapse of the Soviet regime likely, but instead of discouraging them, this awareness multiplied their tenacity. The victory of the counterrevolution would have been an immense bloodbath.

Maybe their resistance was possible because they were animated by the profound conviction of acting in accordance with the laws of history. But, in reality, they did not follow any natural tendency; they were inventing a new world, unable to know what would come out of their endeavor, inspired by an astonishingly powerful utopian imagination, and certainly incapable of imagining its totalitarian outcome.

Despite their usual appeal to the positivistic lexicon of historical laws, the Bolsheviks had inherited their military conception of revolution from the Great War. The Russian revolutionaries read Clausewitz and dealt with the interminable controversies about the legacy of Blanquism and the art of insurrection, but the violence of the Russian Revolution did not arise from an ideological impulse; it stemmed from a society brutalized by war.

This genetic trauma had profound consequences. The war had reshaped politics by changing its codes, introducing previously unknown forms of authoritarianism. In 1917, chaos and spontaneity still prevailed in a mass party composed mostly of new members and directed by a group of exiles, but authoritarianism quickly consolidated during the civil war. Lenin and Trotsky claimed the legacy of the Paris Commune of 1871, but Julius Martov was right when he pointed out that their true ancestor was the Jacobin Terror of 179394.

The military paradigm of the revolution should not be mistaken, however, for a cult of violence. In his History of the Russian Revolution, Trotsky put forward solid arguments against the thesis widely spread from the 1920s onward of a Bolshevik coup. Rejecting the ingenuity of the idyllic vision of the taking of the Winter Palace as a spontaneous popular uprising, he dedicated many pages to the methodical preparation of an insurrection that required, well beyond a rigorous and efficient military organization, an in-depth evaluation of its political conditions and a careful choice of its execution times.

The result was the dismissal of the interim government and the arrest of its members practically without bloodshed. The disintegration of the old state apparatus and the construction of a new one was a painful process that lasted for more than three years of civil war. Of course, the insurrection required a technical preparation and was implemented by a minority, but this did not equate to a conspiracy. In opposition to the pervasive view spread by Curzio Malaparte, a victorious insurrection, Trotsky wrote, is widely separated both in method and historical significance from a governmental overturn accomplished by conspirators acting in concealment from the masses.

There is no doubt that the taking of the Winter Palace and the dismissal of the provisional government was a major turn within the revolutionary process: Lenin called it an overthrowing or an uprising (perevorot). Nevertheless, most historians recognize that this twist took place in a period of extraordinary effervescence, characterized by a permanent mobilization of society and constant recourse to the use of force; in a paradoxical context in which Russia, while remaining involved in a world war, was a state that no longer possessed the monopoly on the legitimate use of violence.

Paradoxically, the thesis of the Bolshevik coup is the crossing point between conservative and anarchist criticisms of the October Revolution. Their reasons were certainly different not to say antipodal but their conclusions converged: Lenin and Trotsky had established a dictatorship.

Emma Goldman and Alexander Berkman, expelled from the United States in 1919 because of their enthusiastic support of the Russian Revolution, could not accept Bolshevik rule and, after the repression of the Kronstadt rebellion in March 1921, decided to leave the USSR. Goldman published My Disillusionment in Russia (1923) and Berkman The Bolshevik Myth (1925), whose conclusion expressed a bitter and severe assessment:

Gray are the passing days. One by one the embers of hope have died out. Terror and despotism have crushed the life born in October. The slogans of the Revolution are foresworn, its ideals stifled in the blood of the people. The breath of yesterday is dooming millions to death; the shadow of today hangs like a black pall over the country. Dictatorship is trampling the masses underfoot. The Revolution is dead; its spirit cries in the wilderness.

Their criticism certainly deserves attention, since it came from inside the revolution itself. Their diagnostic was pitiless: the Bolsheviks had established a party dictatorship that ruled not only in name of the soviets but sometimes as in Kronstadt against them, and whose authoritarian features had becoming more and more suffocating.

In fact, the Bolsheviks themselves did not contest this trenchant appraisal. In Year One of the Russian Revolution (1930), Victor Serge described the USSR during the Civil War in this way:

At this moment, the party fulfilled within the working class the functions of a brain and of a nervous system. It saw, it felt, it knew, it thought, it willed for and through the masses; its consciousness, its organization were a makeweight for the weakness of the individual members of the mass. Without it, the mass would have been no more than a heap of human dust, experiencing confused aspirations shot through by flashes of intelligence these, in the absence of a mechanism capable of leading to large-scale action, doomed to waste themselves and experiencing more insistently the pangs of suffering. Through its incessant agitation and propaganda, always telling the unvarnished truth, the party raised the workers above their own narrow, individual horizon, and revealed to them the vast perspectives of history. After the winter of 191819, the revolution becomes the work of the Communist party.

The Bolsheviks eulogy of party dictatorship, their defense of the militarization of work and their violent language against any left-wing criticism either social democratic or anarchist of their power, was certainly abhorrent and dangerous. It was during the Civil War that Stalinism found its premises. The fact remains that a left-wing alternative was not an easy option. As Serge himself lucidly recognized, the most probable alternative to Bolshevism was simply counterrevolutionary terror.

Without being a coup, the October Revolution meant the seizure of power by a party that represented a minority, and which remained even more isolated after its decision to dissolve the Constituent Assembly. At the end of the Russian Civil War, however, the Bolsheviks had conquered the majority, thus becoming the hegemonic force in a devastated country.

This dramatic change did not happen because of the Cheka and state terror, as pitiless as it was, but because of the division of their enemies, the support of the working class and the passing over to their side of both the peasantry and the non-Russian nationalities. If the final outcome was the dictatorship of a revolutionary party, the alternative was not a democratic regime; the only alternative was a military dictatorship of Russian nationalists, aristocratic landowners. and pogromists.

The communist regime institutionalized the military dimension of revolution. It destroyed the creative, anarchistic, and self-emancipatory spirit of 1917, but at the same time inscribed itself into the revolutionary process. The shift of the revolution toward the Soviet regime passed through different steps: the Civil War (191821), the collectivization of agriculture (193033), and the political purges of the Moscow Trials (193638).

Dissolving the Constituent Assembly, in December 1917, the Bolsheviks affirmed the superiority of Soviet democracy, but by the end of the Civil War the latter was dying. During this atrocious and bloody conflict, the USSR introduced censorship, suppressed political pluralism to the point of finally abolishing any fraction within the Communist Party itself, militarized labor and created the first forced labor camps, and instituted a new political secret police (Cheka). In March 1921, the violent repression of Kronstadt symbolized the end of Soviet democracy and the USSR emerged from the Civil War as a single-party dictatorship.

Ten years later, the collectivization of agriculture brutally ended the peasant revolution and invented new forms of totalitarian violence and bureaucratically centralized modernization of the country. In the second half of the 1930s, the political purges physically eliminated the vestiges of revolutionary Bolshevism and disciplined the entire society by establishing the rule of terror. For two decades, the USSR created a gigantic system of concentration camps.

From the mid-1930s, the USSR roughly corresponded with the classical definition of totalitarianism elaborated a few years later by many conservative political thinkers: a correlation of official ideology, charismatic leadership, single-party dictatorship, suppression of rule of law and political pluralism, monopoly of all means of communication through state propaganda, social and political terror backed by a system of concentration camps, and the suppression of free-market capitalism by a centralized economy.

This description, currently used to point out the similarities between communism and fascism, is not wrong but extremely superficial. Even if one overlooks the enormous differences that separated the communist and fascist ideologies, as well as the social and economic content of their political systems, the fact remains that such a canonical definition of totalitarianism does not grasp the internal dynamic of the Soviet regime. It is simply unable to inscribe it into the historical process of the Russian Revolution. It depicts the USSR as a static, monolithic system, whereas the advent of Stalinism meant a deep and protracted transformation of society and culture.

Equally unsatisfactory is the definition of Stalinism as a bureaucratic counterrevolution or a betrayed revolution. Stalinism certainly signified a radical departure from any idea of democracy and self-emancipation, but it was not, properly speaking, a counterrevolution. A comparison with the Napoleonic Empire is pertinent insofar as Stalinism consciously linked the transformations engendered by the Russian Revolution to both the Enlightenment and the tradition of Russian Empire, but Stalinism was not the restoration of the Old Regime, neither politically or economically, nor even culturally.

Far from restoring the power of the old aristocracy, Stalinism created a completely new economic, managerial, scientific, and intellectual elite, recruited from the lower classes of Soviet societies notably the peasantry and educated by new communist institutions. This is the key to explaining why Stalinism benefited from a social consensus, notwithstanding the Terror and mass deportations.

Interpreting Stalinism as a step in the process of the Russian Revolution does not mean sketching a linear track. The first wave of terror took place during a civil war, when the existence of the USSR itself was threatened by an international coalition. The brutality of the White counterrevolution, the extreme violence of its propaganda and of its practices pogroms and massacres pushed the Bolsheviks to establish a pitiless dictatorship.

Stalin initiated the second and third waves of terror during the 1930s collectivization and the purges in a pacified country whose borders had been internationally recognized and whose political power had been menaced neither by external nor by internal forces. Of course, the rise to power of Hitler in Germany clearly signaled the possibility of a new war in the medium term, but the massive, blind, and irrational character of Stalins violence significantly weakened the USSR instead of reinforcing and equipping it to face such dangers.

Stalinism was a revolution from above, a paradoxical mixture of modernization and social regression, whose final result was mass deportation, a system of concentration camps, an ensemble of trials exhuming the fantasies of the Inquisition, and a wave of mass executions that decapitated the state, the party, and the army. In rural areas, Stalinism meant, according to Nikolai Bukharin, the return to a feudal exploitation of the peasantry with catastrophic economic effects. At the same time as the kulaks were starving in Ukraine, the Soviet regime was transforming tens of thousands of peasants into technicians and engineers.

In short, Soviet totalitarianism merged modernism and barbarism; it was a peculiar, frightening, Promethean trend. Arno Mayer defines it as an uneven and unstable amalgam of monumental achievements and monstrous crimes. Of course, any left scholar or activist could easily share Victor Serges assessment on the moral, philosophical, and political line that radically separated Stalinism from authentic socialism, insofar as Stalins USSR had become in his words an absolute, castocratic totalitarian state, drunk with its own power, for which man does not count. But this does not change the fact, recognized by Serge himself, that this red totalitarianism unfolded in and prolonged a historical process started by the October Revolution.

Avoiding any teleological approach, one could observe that this result was neither historically ineluctable nor coherently inscribed into a Marxist ideological pattern. The origins of Stalinism, nevertheless, cannot simply be imputed, as radical functionalism suggests, to the historical circumstances of war and the social backwardness of a gigantic country with an absolutist past, a country in which building socialism inevitably required reproducing the gruesomeness of primitive capital accumulation.

Bolshevik ideology played a role during the Russian Civil War in this metamorphosis from democratic upsurge to ruthless, totalitarian dictatorship. Its normative vision of violence as the midwife of history and its culpable indifference to the juridical framework of a revolutionary state, historically transitional and doomed to extinction, certainly favored the emergence of an authoritarian, single-party regime.

Multiple threads run from revolution to Stalinism, as well as from the USSR to the communist movements acting across the world. Stalinism was both a totalitarian regime and, for several decades, the hegemonic current of the Left on an international scale.

The Bolsheviks were radical Westernizers. Bolshevik literature was full of references to the French Revolution, 1848 and the Paris Commune, but it never mentioned the Haitian Revolution or the Mexican Revolution. For Trotsky and Lenin, who loved this metaphor, the wheel of history rolled from Petrograd to Berlin, not from the boundless Russian countryside to the fields of Morelos or the Antillean plantations.

In a chapter of his History of the Russian Revolution, Trotsky deplored the fact that peasants were usually ignored by the history books, just as theater critics pay no attention to the workers who, behind the scenes, operate the curtains and change the scenery. In his own book, however, the peasants appear mostly as an anonymous mass. They are not neglected but are observed from afar, with analytical detachment rather than empathy.

The Bolsheviks had started to question their vision of the peasantry inherited from Marxs writings on French Bonapartism as a culturally backward and politically conservative class, but their proletarian tropism was too strong to complete this revision. This was done, not without theoretical and strategic confrontations, by anti-colonial communism in the years between the two world wars.

In China, the communist turn toward the peasantry resulted from both the devastating defeat of the urban revolutions of the mid-1920s and the effort to inscribe Marxism into a national history and culture. After the bloody repression inflicted by the Kuomintang (GMD), the Communist Party cells had been almost completely dismantled in the cities, and its members imprisoned and persecuted. Retreating into the country, where they found protection and could reorganize their movement, many communist leaders started looking at the peasantry with different eyes, abandoning their former Westernized gaze on Asian backwardness.

This strategic turn, the object of sharp controversies between the Communist International and its Chinese section during the 1930s, was claimed by Mao Zedong at the beginning of 1927, even before the massacres perpetrated by the GMD in Shanghai and Canton that year. Coming back to his native Hunan, Mao wrote a famous report in which he designated the peasantry instead of the urban proletariat as the driving force of the Chinese Revolution.

Against the Moscow agents who conceived of peasant militias exclusively as triggers of urban uprisings, in 1931, Mao persisted in building a Soviet republic in Jiangxi. Without believing in the rural character of the Chinese Revolution, he could not have organized the Long March in order to resist the annihilation campaign launched by the GMD. Initially considered as a tragic defeat, this epic undertaking paved the way for a successful struggle in the following decade, first against the Japanese occupation and then against the GMD itself.

The proclamation of the Peoples Republic of China in Beijing in 1949 was the result of a process that, from the uprisings of 1925 to the Long March and the anti-Japanese struggle, found one of its necessary premises in October 1917; but it was also the product of a strategic revision. There was a complex genetic link between the Chinese and the Russian Revolutions. The three major dimensions of communism revolution, regime, and anti-colonialism emblematically merged in the Chinese Revolution.

As a radical break with the traditional order, it was incontestably a revolution that heralded the end of centuries of oppression; as the conclusion of a civil war, it resulted in the conquest of power by a militarized party which, since the beginning, established its dictatorship in the most authoritarian forms. And as the conclusion of fifteen years of struggle, first against the Japanese occupation and then against the GMD a nationalist force that had become the agent of Western great powers the communist victory of 1949 marked not only the end of colonialism in China but also, on a broader scale, a significant moment in the global process of decolonization.

After the Russian Revolution, socialism crossed the boundaries of Europe and became an agenda item in the South and the colonial world. Because of its intermediary position between Europe and Asia, with a gigantic territory extending across both continents, inhabited by a variety of national, religious, and ethnic communities, the USSR became the locus of a new crossroads between the West and the colonial world. Bolshevism was able to speak equally to the proletarian classes of the industrialized countries and to the colonized peoples of the South.

During the nineteenth century, anti-colonialism was almost nonexistent in the West, with the notable exception of the anarchist movement, whose activists and ideas widely circulated between Southern and Eastern Europe, Latin America, and different Asian countries. After Marxs death, socialism based its hopes and expectations on the growing strength of the industrial working class, mostly white and male, and was concentrated in the developed (mostly Protestant) capitalist countries of the West.

Every mass socialist party included powerful currents defending the civilizing mission of Europe throughout the world. Social democratic parties particularly those located in the biggest empires postponed colonial liberation until after the socialist transformation of Europe and the United States. The Bolsheviks radically broke with such a tradition.

The second congress of the Communist International, held in Moscow in July 1920, approved a programmatic document calling for colonial revolutions against imperialism: its goal was the creation of communist parties in the colonial world and the support of national liberation movements. The congress clearly affirmed a radical turn away from the old social democratic views on colonialism.

A couple of months later, the Bolsheviks organized a Congress of the Peoples of the East in Baku, Azerbaijan Soviet Socialist Republic, which convened almost two thousand delegates from twenty-nine Asian nationalities. Grigory Zinoviev explicitly affirmed that the Communist International had broken with older social democratic attitudes, according to which civilized Europe could and must act as tutor to barbarous Asia. Revolution was no longer considered as the exclusive realm of white European and American workers, and socialism could not be imagined without the liberation of colonized peoples.

The conflicting relationships between communism and nationalism would be clarified in the following decades, but the October Revolution was the inaugural moment of global anti-colonialism. In the 1920s, anti-colonialism suddenly shifted from the realm of historical possibility to the field of political strategy and military organization. The Baku conference announced this historic change.

The alliance between communism and anti-colonialism experienced several moments of crisis and tension, related to both ideological conflicts and the imperatives of the USSRs foreign policies. At the end of World War II, the French Communist Party participated in a coalition government that violently repressed anti-colonial revolts in Algeria and Madagascar, and in the following decade it supported Prime Minister Guy Mollet at the beginning of the Algerian War. In India, the communist movement was marginalized during World War II because of its decision to suspend its anti-colonial struggle and to support the British Empires involvement in a military alliance with the USSR against the Axis powers.

If these examples clearly show the contradictions of communist anti-colonialism, they do not change the historical role played by the USSR as a rear base for many anti-colonial revolutions. The entire process of decolonization took place in the context of the Cold War, within the relations of force established by the existence of the USSR.

Retrospectively, decolonization appears as a historical experience in which the contradictory dimensions of communism previously mentioned emancipation and authoritarianism, revolution and dictatorial power permanently merged. In most cases, anti-colonial struggles were conceived and organized like military campaigns carried out by liberation armies, and the political regimes they established were, from the beginning, one-party dictatorships.

In Cambodia, at the end of a ferocious war, the military dimension of the anti-colonial struggle completely suffocated any emancipatory impulse, and the conquest of power by the Khmer Rouge immediately resulted in the establishment of a genocidal power. The happiness of insurgent Havana on the first of January 1959 and the terror of the Cambodian killing fields are the dialectical poles of communism as anti-colonialism.

The fourth dimension of twentieth-century communism is social democratic: in certain countries and periods, communism played the role traditionally fulfilled by social democracy. This happened in some Western countries, mostly in the postwar decades, thanks to a set of circumstances related to international context, the foreign policy of the USSR, and the absence or weakness of classic social democratic parties; and it also occurred in some countries born from decolonization.

The most significant examples of this peculiar phenomenon are found in the United States, at the time of the New Deal, in postwar France and Italy, as well as in India (Kerala and West Bengal). Of course, social democratic communism was geographically and chronologically more circumscribed than its other forms, but it existed nonetheless. To a certain extent, the rebirth of social democracy itself after 1945 was a by-product of the October Revolution, which had changed the balance of power on a global scale and compelled capitalism to transform significantly, adopting a human face.

Social democratic communism is an oxymoronic definition that does not ignore the links of French, Italian, or Indian communism with revolutions, Stalinism, and decolonization. It does not neglect the capacity of these movements to lead insurgencies notably during the Resistance against the Nazi occupation nor their organic connections with Moscow for several decades. Their first open criticism of the USSRs foreign policy took place only in the 1960s, first with the Sino-Soviet split, then with the invasion of Czechoslovakia by Soviet tanks.

Even their internal structure and organization was, at least until the end of the 1970s, much more Stalinist than social democratic, as well as their culture, theoretical sources, and political imagination. In spite of these clearly recognizable features, such parties played a typical social democratic role: reforming capitalism, containing social inequalities, getting accessible health care, education, and leisure to the largest number of people; in short, improving the living conditions of the laboring classes and giving them political representation.

Of course, one of the peculiar features of social democratic communism was its exclusion from political power, except for a couple of years between the end of Word War II and the breakout of the Cold War (the swan song of social democratic communism took place in France at the beginning of the 1980s, when the (French Communist Party (PCF) participated in a left coalition government under Franois Mitterrand). Unlike the British Labour Party, the German Social Democratic Party (SPD), or Scandinavias social democracies, it could not claim paternity of the welfare state.

In the United States, the Communist Party was one of the left pillars of the New Deal, along with the trade unions, but it never entered the Roosevelt administration. It did not experience power, only the purges of McCarthyism. In France and Italy, the communist parties were strongly influential in the birth of postwar social policies simply because of their strength and their capacity to put pressure on governments.

The arena of their social reformism was municipal socialism in the cities they led as hegemonic strongholds, like Bologna, or the Parisian red belt. In a much bigger country like India, the communist governments of Kerala and West Bengal could be considered equivalent forms of local, postcolonial welfare states.

In Europe, social democratic communism had two necessary premises: on the one hand, the Resistance that legitimized communist parties as democratic forces; on the other, the economic growth that followed the postwar reconstruction. By the 1980s, the time of social democratic communism was over. Therefore, the end of communism in 1989 throws a new light on the historical trajectory of social democracy itself.

An accomplished form of the social democratic welfare state only existed in Scandinavia. Elsewhere, the welfare state was much more the result of a capitalist self-reformation than a social democratic conquest. At the end of World War II, in the midst of a continent in ruins, capitalism was unable to restart without powerful state intervention. Despite its obvious and largely achieved goal of defending the principle of the free market against the Soviet economy, the Marshall Plan was, as its name indicated, a plan that assured the transition from total war to peaceful reconstruction.

Without such massive American help, many materially destroyed European countries would have been unable to recover quickly, and the United States worried that a new economic collapse might push entire countries toward communism. From this point of view, the postwar welfare state was an unexpected outcome of the complex and contradictory confrontation between communism and capitalism that had begun in 1917.

Whatever the values, convictions, and commitments of its members and even its leaders, social democracy played a rentiers role: it could defend freedom, democracy, and the welfare state in the capitalist countries simply because the USSR existed, and capitalism had been compelled to transform itself in the context of the Cold War. After 1989, capitalism recovered its savage face, rediscovered the lan of its heroic times, and dismantled the welfare state almost everywhere.

In most Western countries, social democracy turned to neoliberalism and became an essential tool of this transition. And alongside old-style social democracy, even social democratic communism disappeared. The self-dissolution of the Italian Communist Party, in 1991, was the emblematic epilogue of this process: it did not turn into a classic social democratic party but rather an advocate of center-left liberalism, with the explicitly claimed model of the American Democratic Party.

In 1989, the fall of communism closed the curtain on a play as epic as it was tragic, as exciting as it was terrifying. The time of decolonization and the welfare state was over, but the collapse of communism-as-regime also took with it communism-as-revolution. Instead of liberating new forces, the end of the USSR engendered a widespread awareness of the historical defeat of twentieth-century revolutions: paradoxically, the shipwreck of real socialism engulfed the communist utopia.

The twenty-first-century left is compelled to reinvent itself, to distance itself from previous patterns. It is creating new models, new ideas, and a new utopian imagination. This reconstruction is not an easy task, insofar as the fall of communism left the world without alternatives to capitalism and created a different mental landscape. A new generation has grown up in a neoliberal world in which capitalism has become a natural form of life.

The Left rediscovered an ensemble of revolutionary traditions that had been suppressed or marginalized over the course of a century, anarchism foremost among them, and recognized a plurality of political subjects previously ignored or relegated to a secondary position. The experiences of the alter-globalization movements, the Arab Spring, Occupy Wall Street, the Spanish Indignados, Syriza, the French Nuit debout and gilets jaunes, feminist and LGBT movements, and Black Lives Matter are steps in the process of building a new revolutionary imagination, discontinuous, nourished by memory but at the same time severed from twentieth-century history and deprived of a usable legacy.

Born as an attempt at taking heaven by storm, twentieth-century communism became, with and against fascism, an expression of the dialectic of the Enlightenment. Ultimately, the Soviet-style industrial cities, five-year plans, agricultural collectivization, spacecraft, gulags converted into factories, nuclear weapons, and ecological catastrophes, were different forms of the triumph of instrumental reason.

Was not communism the frightening face of a Promethean dream, of an idea of Progress that erased and destroyed any experience of self-emancipation? Was not Stalinism a storm piling wreckage upon wreckage, in Walter Benjamins image, and which millions of people mistakenly called Progress? Fascism merged a set of conservative values inherited from the counter-Enlightenment with a modern cult of science, technology, and mechanical strength. Stalinism combined a similar cult of technical modernity with a radical and authoritarian form of Enlightenment: socialism transformed into a cold utopia.

A new, global left will not succeed without working through this historical experience. Extracting the emancipatory core of communism from this field of ruins is not an abstract, merely intellectual operation; it will require new battles, new constellations, in which all of a sudden the past will reemerge and memory flash up. Revolutions cannot be scheduled, they always come unexpectedly.

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We Can Only Go Beyond Communism by Coming to Terms With Its History - Jacobin magazine

Socialism | Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy

Socialism is both an economic system and an ideology (in the non-pejorative sense of that term). A socialist economy features social rather than private ownership of the means of production. It also typically organizes economic activity through planning rather than market forces, and gears production towards needs satisfaction rather than profit accumulation. Socialist ideology asserts the moral and economic superiority of an economy with these features, especially as compared with capitalism. More specifically, socialists typically argue that capitalism undermines democracy, facilitates exploitation, distributes opportunities and resources unfairly, and vitiates community, stunting self-realization and human development. Socialism, by democratizing, humanizing, and rationalizing economic relations, largely eliminates these problems.

Socialist ideology thus has both critical and constructive aspects. Critically, it provides an account of whats wrong with capitalism; constructively, it provides a theory of how to transcend capitalisms flaws, namely, by transcending capitalism itself, replacing capitalisms central features (private property, markets, profits) with socialist alternatives (at a minimum social property, but typically planning and production for use as well).

How, precisely, socialist concepts like social ownership and planning should be realized in practice is a matter of dispute among socialists. One major split concerns the proper role of markets in a socialist economy. Some socialists argue that extensive reliance on markets is perfectly compatible with core socialist values. Others disagree, arguing that to be a socialist is (among other things) to reject the anarchy of the market in favor of a planned economy. But what form of planning should socialists advocate? This is a second major area of dispute, with some socialists endorsing central planning and others proposing a radically decentralized, participatory alternative.

This article explores all of these themes. It starts with definitions, then presents normative arguments for preferring socialism to capitalism, and concludes by discussing three broad socialist institutional proposals: central planning, participatory planning, and market socialism.

Two limitations should be noted at the outset. The article focuses on moral and political-philosophical issues rather than purely economic ones, discussing the latter only briefly. Second, little is said here about socialisms rich and complicated history. The article emphasizes the philosophical content of socialist ideas rather than their historical development or political instantiation.

Considered as an economic system, socialism is best understood in contrast with capitalism.

Capitalism designates an economic system with all of the following features:

An economic system is socialist only if it rejects feature 1, private ownership of the means of production in favor of public or social ownership. But must an economic system reject any of features 2-4 to count as socialist, or is rejection of private property sufficient as well as necessary?Here, socialists disagree. Some, often called market socialists, hold that socialism is compatible, in principle, with wage labor, profit-seeking firms, and extensive use of markets to organize and coordinate production and investment. Others, sometimes called orthodox or classical socialists, contend that an economic system with these features is scarcely distinguishable from capitalism; true socialism, on this view, requires not merely social ownership of the means of production but also planned production for use, as opposed to anarchic, market-driven production for profit.

This section explores the core socialist commitment to social ownership of the means of production. Other important aspects of socialismfor instance, its stance towards markets and planningare discussed in later sections (especially section 8).

Consider a societys instruments of production, its land, buildings, factories, tools, and machinery; consider also its raw materials, its oil and timber and minerals and so on. Together, these instruments and these materials comprise societys means of production. To whom should these means of production belong: to society as a whole, or to private individuals or groups of individuals? This is the central question dividing capitalists and socialists, with capitalists advocating extensive rights of private ownership of the means of production and socialists advocating extensive social or public ownership of these means.

Notice that the capitalist/socialist dispute does not concern the desirability of private property in items unrelated to production. The issue between socialists and capitalists is not whether individuals should be able to own personal property (for example, toothbrushes, houses, clothing, and other articles of everyday use) but whether they should be able to own productive property (for example, stores, factories, raw materials, and other productive assets).

But what does it mean to own something? Standardly, to own something is to enjoy a bundle of legally enforceable rights and powers over that thing. These rights and powers typically include the right to use, to control, to transfer, to alter (at the limit, even to destroy), and to generate income from the thing owned, as well as the right to exclude non-owners from interacting with the owned thing in these ways. Because these rights admit of gradations, so too does ownership, which is scalara matter of degreerather than dichotomous. In general, the wider ones rights of use, control, and so on over an object, the fewer restrictions one faces in exercising these various rights, and the wider ones ownership rights over that object. Ownership, notice, may be narrowed and restricted without ceasing to be ownership. Limited ownership is not an oxymoron.

Another important distinction here is that between legal and effective ownership. These can go together, as when a person owns her car both in law and in fact: she not only has the title, but also possesses actual powers of use, control, and so on over the vehicle. But so too can they come apart. The means of production belong to all the people, proclaimed the Soviet Unions constitution, but these were just words, for in reality democratically unaccountable bureaucrats and party officials grasped all the important economic levers. Something similar could be said of the relationship between shareholders in large capitalist corporations, on the one hand, and management and executives on the other: the former have paper ownership, but it is the latter that really exercise control. In general, it is effective rather than merely legal or formal ownership that is of interest in the present context. Capitalists and socialists alike want to realize their preferred patterns of ownership not just on paper, but also in reality.

To understand socialism, one must distinguish between three forms of ownership. Under private ownership, individuals or groups of individuals (for example, corporations) are the primary agents of ownership; it is they who enjoy the various rights of use, control, transfer, income generation, and so on discussed above. Under state ownership, the state retains for itself these rights, and is thus the primary agent of ownership. Both of these forms of ownership should be familiar to anyone who has frequented a business or driven on an interstate highway.

Much less familiar is the key socialist idea of social ownership. Social ownership of an asset means that the people have control over the disposition of that asset and its product (Roemer, A Future for Socialism 18). Social ownership of the means of production, then, obtains to the degree that the people themselves have control over these means: over their use and over the products that eventuate from that use. This is a conceptually simple idea, but it can be difficult to grasp its practical implications. How, in concrete terms, could social control over the means of production be realized?

Historically, socialists have struggled to answer this question, and for good reason: it is not at all obvious how meaningful control over something as massive and complex as a modern economy might be shared across tens or even hundreds of millions of people. Broadly speaking, socialists have identified two main strategies of socialization. The first seeks to socialize the economy by nationalizing it. The second seeks the same end by radically decentralizing and democratizing economic power. These strategies will be investigated in greater detail below (see section 8), but for now a few orienting remarks are in order.

First, regarding nationalization: state ownership functions as a vehicle for socialization only to the extent that the people are themselves in control of the state. Otherwise nationalization amounts to little more than statism, not socialism; it constitutes economic rule by state officials rather than by society as a whole. Any genuinely socialist program of nationalization, then, must adhere to a two-part recipe: nationalize the economy, but also democratize the state, thereby putting the people in control of the economy at one remove.

This second step has proven rather elusive in practice. It was not accomplishedindeed, it was not even really attemptedby the so-called socialist authoritarianisms of the 20th century such as the Soviet Union and China. And certainly considerable barriers to genuine democratization exist even in countries with longstanding liberal democratic traditions, such as the United States. These barriers include the awesome influence of special interests and concentrated wealth on the political process, corporate domination of political media, voter ignorance and apathy, and so on. Democracypopular control over the stateis, in short, an ideal easier praised than implemented, even under favorable conditions. However, these considerable practical problems aside, there seems to be nothing incoherent in principle with the idea of a genuinely socialistbecause genuinely democraticprogram of nationalization.

Or is there? Many socialists argue that state ownership can never fully realize socialisms promise, no matter how democratic the relationship between the people and the state. This is because real social ownership involves not only control-at-a-remove, so to speak, but also active involvement and participation. On this conception, it is not enough for democratically accountable politicians and bureaucrats to steer the economy in your name; rather, you must do (or at least have the real opportunity to do) some of the steering yourself. The core idea here is well expressed by Michael Harrington:

Socialization means the democratization of decision making in the everyday economy, of micro as well as macro choices. It looks primarily but not exclusively to the decentralized, face-to-face participation of the direct producers and their communities in determining the matters that shape their social lives (197).

In a socialist society, average, everyday people must be active rather than passive, empowered rather than subordinated, involved rather than excluded. But if this is what genuine socialization requires, then socialism is

not a formula or a specific legal mode of ownership, but a principle of empowering people at the base, which can animate a whole range of measures, some of which we do not yet even imagine (Harrington, 197).

The point is not that nationalization can never play a role in making socialism real, but that it cannot play the outsized role often assigned to it.

But if socialists should not rely exclusively on nationalization, to what else should they appeal instead? Different socialists will answer this question in different ways, as we will see in section 8. But most would recommend leavening democratically controlled state ownership with sizable helpings of workplace democracy (as found, for instance, in the Mondragon and La Lega cooperatives in Spain and Italy, respectively), social control over investment, and various other measures to economically empower local communities and individuals (for instance, the participatory budgeting process found in Porto Allegre, Brazil, through which citizens meet in popular assemblies to decide how the citys resources should be spent). By knitting together nationalization of major industries with these and other programs and initiatives, socialists hope to bring to fruition the truly audacious project of empowering people to take command of their everyday lives (Harrington, 197).

In principle, an economy could be wholly capitalist, statist, or socialist. An economy would be wholly capitalist just in case all its productive assets were privately controlled; wholly statist, provided all such assets were state-controlled; and wholly socialist, provided all such assets were socially-controlled. While these are coherent theoretical possibilities, they have not been implemented in practice. In reality, all economies are hybrids that blend together private, social, and state ownership. It is better, then, to think of capitalism, statism, and socialism not simply as all-or-nothing ideal types of economic structures, but also as variables (Wright, 124). According to this analysis, an economy can be more or less capitalist, socialist, or statist, depending on the particular balance it strikes between the three forms of ownership.

For example, even in the United Stateswidely seen as a bastion of capitalismthe state plays a considerable role in controlling economic activity and in distributing the proceeds thereof. Does this mean it is a statist or perhaps even a socialist economy? No. Economies should be individuated with reference to their dominant mode of ownership. Since capitalist ownership dominates the United States economymost of its productive assets being privately ownedit should be thought of as capitalist, albeit with some non-capitalist aspects. Similarly, an economy within which most productive assets are socially controlled should count as socialist, even if (as would almost certainly be the case) it also included statist or capitalist elements.

Although this article focuses on socialism rather than Marxism per se, there is an important distinction within Marxist thought that warrants mention here. This is the distinction between socialism and communism.

Both socialism and communism are forms of post-capitalism. Both feature social rather than private ownership of the means of production. Both, within Marxist orthodoxy, reject market production for profit in favor of planned production for use. But beyond these important similarities lie significant differences. In the Critique of the Gotha Progam, Marxs fullest discussion of these matters, he divides post-capitalism into two parts, a lower phase (later called socialism by followers of Marx) and a higher phase (communism). The lower phase follows immediately on the heels of capitalism, and so resembles it in certain ways. As Marx memorably puts this point, socialism is in every respect, economically, morally and intellectually still stamped with the birth marks of the old society from whose womb it emerges (Critique of the Gotha Program 614). These capitalist birth marks include:

So in all of these ways, the lower phase of post-capitalism resembles its capitalist predecessor. Over time, however, these capitalist birth marks fade, all traces of bourgeois attitudes and institutions vanish, and humanity finally achieves the higher phase of post-capitalist society, full communism.

What would full communism be like? Marx never answered this question in detailand indeed, he disparaged as utopian those socialists who focused excessively on drawing up recipes for the kitchens of the futurebut from his brief remarks about communist society certain broad outlines can be discerned. Perhaps his most famous description of communism comes in the following passage from the Critique of the Gotha Program:

In a higher phase of communist society, after the enslaving subordination of the individual to the division of labor, and therewith also the antithesis between mental and physical labor, has vanished; after labor has become not only a means of life but also lifes prime want; after the productive forces have also increased with the all-round development of the individual, and all the springs of cooperative wealth flow more abundantlyonly then can the narrow horizon of bourgeois right be crossed in its entirety and society inscribe on its banner: from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs (615):

Unpacking this passage, we see that Marx makes all of the following claims about communism:

Not only will communism (unlike socialism) do away with class, material scarcity, and occupational specialization, it will also do away with the state. As noted above, the state begins to wither away under socialism. But this process is not completed until the higher phase of full communism, for it is only in that phase that lingering class antagonisms are finally eradicated. With these antagonisms cleared away, the state has nothing to dono class conflict to manage, no further function to performand so, like a vestigial limb, it gradually atrophies from disuse. Or, as Engels famously puts this point in Socialism: Utopian and Scientific,

State interference in social relations becomes, in one domain after another, superfluous, and then dies out of itself; the government of persons is replaced by the administration of things, and by the conduct of processes of production. The state is not abolished. It withers away (91).

In sum, within Marxist theory socialism and communism are very different indeed. Although both eradicate private property and profits, only the latter also eliminates the division of labor, the state, material scarcity, and perhaps even conflict itself. It is only under communism that mankind completes its ascendance from the kingdom of necessity into the kingdom of freedom (Engels 95).

Is socialism worthy of allegiance, and if so, why?

The standard normative argument for socialism is comparative. Socialists typically single out certain moral and political values, argue that these values are poorly served under capitalism, and then support socialism by contending that these values would fare betternot necessarily perfectly, but betterunder socialism. Values drawn upon by socialists vary, but usually include democracy, non-exploitation, freedom (both formal and effective), community, and equality. Sections 47 discuss these values and their alleged connections with socialism.

But before turning to these explicitly normative arguments, a word should be said about the purely economic case for socialism. (Since this articles focus is normative rather than economic, this section will be brief.) Capitalism, many socialists hold, is wild and wasteful, prone to great booms and tremendously destructive busts. The argument goes like this: capitalist competition greatly augments societys forces of production. Each firm, merely to stay in business, must innovate. As a result, productivity soars. Ever more output can be produced for ever fewer inputs, labor included. Abundance looms.

But this very abundance, paradoxically, is an economic problem. Gluts drive down prices as supply overwhelms demand. Profits decline. Firms, forced to cut costs, sack workers and slash wages. As unemployment and economic insecurity mount, demand plummets still further: people simply dont have much money to spend. With reduced demand comes reduced opportunities for profits, hence, reduced production. What was a boom has turned into a bust, and society faces the absurd spectacle of idle farms next to hungry people; empty shoe factories beside shoeless workers; foreclosed houses alongside the homeless.

Capitalism, then, makes possible universal abundance. But its central featuresmarket competition, the pursuit of profits, and private propertyensure that this possibility will never be realized. In Marxist language, there is a deep contradiction between capitalisms forces of production and its relations of production, a contradiction that nothing short of socialist revolution can solve. Society must overthrow capitalist productive relations, replacing anarchic market production for profit with planned production for use. Only then will humanity eliminate the ridiculous concatenation of vast productive potential alongside vast unmet needs. Or so the socialist argument goes.

Socialists find further economic faults with capitalism. Capitalism misallocates resources towards producing what is profitable rather than what is needed. True, what is needed can sometime be profitable. But often the two categories come apart. Think, the socialist will say, of the vast resources spent producing luxuries for the rich, while the needy go without. Or consider the underproduction of critical, but unprofitable, antibiotics, even as lifestyle drugs (like Propecia, for baldness) roll off the production line.

Capitalism is also inefficient in its use of human labor power. Capitalism functions best when there exists a reserve army of the unemployed, in Marxs phrase. The credible threat of unemployment reduces workers salary demands and increases their work effort. But unemployment means idle workers: able bodied people, willing to work, who cannot find an outlet for their productivity. This is a waste, and it would not exist under socialism (or so it is claimed.)

Further, capitalism allows an entire segment of the (able-bodied) population to live without working: namely, the independently wealthy, who can simply live off investment income. This, again, is wasteful; were these people recruited into the labor process, labor time for the rest could decline. Finally, capitalism misdirects the labor of many of those it does employ. Just think, the socialist will say, of the legions of lawyers, advertisers, marketers, and financial workers. Such workers (and others beside) perform no real productive function. Their jobs are necessary only within the framework of capitalism itself. In a socialist economy, there is no need for marketing, financial speculation, or lawyers specializing in mergers and acquisitions. Socialism would free people currently doing these tasks to apply their talents in a more useful way. Marketers could become teachers; financiers, farmers. And we would all be the better for it.

In sum, socialists seek to upend the common sense view of capitalism. Most people take it for granted that whatever its normative flaws, at the very least capitalism delivers the goods, so to speak. Not so, replies the socialist. Because it is prone to economic crises, and is wasteful and inefficient in its use of the means of production (including human labor), capitalisms economic bona fides must be questioned.

The article turns now to the normative case against capitalism and in favor of socialism, starting with democracy.

Democracy means rule by the people, as opposed to rule by the rich, or rule by the excellent, or, more generally, rule by any part of the people over the rest. Systems plausibly claiming to be democratic can vary along at least three dimensions. They can bring a broader or a narrower range of issues under democratic jurisdiction; their members can be more or less directly involved in the exercise of political power; and they can insist upon greater or lesser equality of influence (or perhaps opportunity for influence) over political processes. Call these the scope, involvement, and influence dimensions, respectively.

Other things being equal, as involvement, scope, and equality of influence increase, so too does democracy. Thus it can make sense to say that one democratic system is more democratic than another. So too, it is possible to compare different democratic ideals in terms of their democratic-ness. A principle or ideal that insists upon maximal equality of influence, for instance, is (other things equal) more democratic than a principle or ideal that does not.

Socialists are radical democrats. They do not merely profess rule by the people; they also interpret that ideal in a highly democratic way, opting for maximalist or near-maximalist positions along all three of the just-mentioned dimensions. They want democracy to have very broad scope; they want citizens to be highly involved in democratic processes; and they want citizens to have roughly equal opportunities to influence these processes. And they typically argue, further, that the democratic ideal, understood in this rich and demanding way, militates against capitalism and in favor of socialism. This article will focus on the scope and influence dimensions.

To see this argument, consider first the scope dimension of democracy, which concerns the question: where should the boundary between public and private, between politics and civil society, be drawn? Which issues should be subject to democratic choice? Many socialists endorse something like the following principle:

All Affected Principle: People affected by a decision should enjoy a say over that decision, proportional to the degree to which they are affected.

However, it is a rather short stepor so say socialistsfrom this intuitively plausible principle to the radical conclusion that economics should be subordinated to democracy, that large swathes of economic life should be politicized and brought under popular control. All that is required to make that leap is the seemingly incontrovertible premise that many economic issues affect the public. When a local business fires 20% of its workers, this affects the public. When financiers withdraw support for a new shopping center, this affects the public. When societys productive assets are deployed to make yachts for millionaires rather than affordable housing, this affects the public. When corporations pull up roots and relocate production to greener pastures, this affects the public.

In all of these cases (and many others besides), peoples lives are affectedindeed, often profoundly affectedby economic decisions. Do they get a say in these decisions, as required by the All Affected Principle? Not under capitalism, which grants extensive control over such matters to holders of private property rights. Where private property reigns, owners rather than affected parties decide, for example, whether to hire or fire, to invest, to relocate, and so on. From the socialist point of view, this is a serious offense against democracy. Capitalism, socialists claim, depoliticizes what should remain political; it cedes far too much control over common affairs to private parties. It is, in this way, insufficiently democratic.

But if the root cause of this democratic deficit is private control over productive assets, then the solution, or so socialists argue, must be social control over the same. Social property brings into the democratic domain what private property improperly removes. What touches all must be decided by all; economic matters touch all; therefore economic matters must be decided by all. This is the simple but powerful democratic syllogism at the heart of one major argument for socialism, for social rather than private control of the economy. What might social control over the economy look like in practice? Section 8 explores competing answers to this question.

Socialists find further grounds for rejecting capitalism in democracys influence dimension. Standardly, democracy is held to require not merely that all citizens have a say, but that they have an equal say. But what does this really mean? To clarify, suppose that A and B have equal voting rights, but A, being rich, educated, and leisured, has a greater chance to influence the political process than B, who is poor, uneducated, and short on free time (he must work long hours to make ends meet). Do A and B have an equal say, in the sense required by democracy?

Nearly all socialists, and indeed, many non-socialists, would say no; they would detect a democratic deficit in this scenario, for they typically see democracy as requiring not merely formal equality of opportunity for political influence but also substantive or fair equality of opportunity for political influence. On this view, it is not enough for A and B to enjoy identical legal protections to vote, to run for office, to engage in political speech, and so on. Instead, genuine democracy requires (over and above this merely legal equality) that equally talented and motivated citizens have roughly equal prospects for winning office and/or influencing policy, regardless of their economic and social circumstancesor something along these lines.

Now, capitalism clearly can implement formal political equality. Many capitalist societies grant their citizens equal rights to vote, to run for office, and so on. But can capitalism implement substantive political equality?

Many socialists think not. Capitalism, they point out, generates steep economic inequalities, dividing society into rich and poor. But in a variety of ways, the rich can translate their economic advantages into political ones. This translation can occur relatively directly, as when the rich buy political influence through campaign contributions, or when they hire lobbyists to steer legislative priorities (sometimes going so far as to draft laws themselves). Or it can occur relatively indirectly, as when the wealthy use their ownership of media to shape public opinion (and thus the political process), or when capitalists threaten to take their money out of the country in response to disliked (usually leftist) policies, thereby limiting what government can do.

But whether moneyed interests affect politics directly or indirectly, the net result is the same: capitalism amplifies the voices of the rich, enabling their concerns to dominate the political process. Indeed, some socialists, pressing this objection to its logical conclusion, contend that democracy under capitalism is really little more than oligarchyrule by the richcovered by a democratic fig leaf. Or, as Vladimir Lenin put this point: Democracy for an insignificant minority, democracy for the richthat is the democracy of capitalist society (79).

Sophisticated defenders of capitalism respond by arguing that capitalisms democratic deficits can be repaired within a fundamentally capitalist framework. Campaign finance reform, regulation of lobbying, restrictions on corporate domination of media, even limitations on the movement of capital across borders would, together, do much to restore or preserve political equality amidst capitalist economic inequality, and yet none of them are incompatible with capitalism per se. It follows (capitalists argue) that there is no need to throw out the baby of capitalism with the bathwater of political inequality. Sufficiently reformed, capitalism can indeed realize not just formal political equality but also substantive political equality.

The question, socialists would reply, is whether these reforms would ever be chosen by political elites under capitalism. Will capitalist oligarchs willingly undercut the very basis of their rule by socializing control over mass media, installing real campaign finance reform, limiting capital flows, and so on?

Would socialism perform any better than capitalism on this influence dimension of democracy? Would it enable equally talented and motivated citizens to have roughly equal prospects for influencing politics? Socialists argue that it would. Because it eliminates class, socialism eliminates the major threat to substantive political equality. (Of course, other forms of exclusion, such as racism and sexism, must also be overcome.) Wealthy property owners will not dominate the political process at the expense of the poor and unpropertied because the latter will be an empty set. Everyone will be a wealthy property owner, in the sense that everyone will share control over the means of production and will have access to a dignified standard of living. Everyone will therefore have roughly equal economic resources to bring to bear on the political process.

Put differently, whereas capitalism attempts to secure political equality despite massive economic inequalities, socialism attempts to secure political equality in large part by eliminating these inequalities.

According to many socialists, one of capitalisms central moral failings is that it is exploitative. Socialism, by contrast, would not be exploitativeor so these socialists allegeand this is one of the main reasons for preferring it to capitalism.

But what is exploitation? Is capitalism truly exploitative? And would socialism really eliminate exploitation? This subsection explores socialist answers to these questions.

Although there is no universally accepted account of exploitation, Jeffrey Reimans Marx-inspired suggestion that exploitation is a kind of coercive prying loose of unpaid labor provides a good framework for discussion (3). On this account, a person is exploited if and only if she is forced to work for free. Feudal serfs, for example, were exploited because they were legally and physically compelled, at sword-point if necessary, to spend part of their working time toiling in the lords fields for nothing in return. This was forced, unpaid labor of the most obvious sort, and it constituted a serious form of exploitation.

But are capitalist employees exploited? At first glance, it would appear not. Workers get paid wages, so it doesnt seem as if they are working for free. Nor does it appear that workers are forced to work. Capitalism, being a system of free labor, grants workers ownership over their labor power and entitles them to sell itor notas they please. So where is the force supposedly inherent in the capital/worker relationship?

Take the issue of force first. In general, a person is forced to do something X whenever she has no reasonable alternative to doing X. Workers, then, are forced to sell their labor power to capitalists just in case they have no reasonable alternative to doing so. But of course they dont have a reasonable alternative, or so some socialists contend. Their argument is simple. Everyone must make a living. There are, under capitalist property relations, only two main ways to do this: one can live off of investment or property income, or one can live off of wages. By definition, workers cannot pick this first option; they dont own means of production, so they cant live off of income generated by such ownership. This leaves wage labor as the only acceptable option. True, workers are formally free to decline capitalist employment, but this does not represent a reasonable option since its consequences are so dire: starvation or, in more enlightened circumstances, life on the dole. Workers therefore have no minimally reasonable choice but to sell their labor power to owners of means of production.

It follows that workers are forced to work for capitalists, even if they are not so forced by capitalists (or indeed, by anyone else). The forcing in question is structural rather than agential; as Reiman explains, it is an indirect force built into the very fact that capitalists own the means of production and laborers do not. Or, as Marx puts this point, it is the the dull compulsion of economic relations rather than direct force that completes the subjection of the laborer to the capitalist (Capital Vol. I, 737).

Not all socialists accept this argument. G.A. Cohen, for example, suggests that individual workers do have a reasonable alternative to selling their labor power: they can become capitalists themselves (The Structure of Proletarian Unfreedom). Not overnight, perhaps, but with enough scrimping and saving, is it not possible for an individual worker to start a business of her own? Cohen concludes that individual workers are not forced to sell their labor power. (He also argues that workers are collectively unfreeunfree as a classsince not all, or even many, workers can escape their class at the same time; the economy can absorb only so many small business owners at any given moment. But this alleged collective unfreedom of workers, though interesting and important, is peripheral to our present topic and so must be set aside.)

In response, some socialists question whether opening a small business really represents a reasonable option for most workers. For one thing, many workers simply cant save enough to open such a business: their wages are just too small relative to the cost of living. For another, even if a worker is able, through years of thrift, to open his own business, most businesses fail, often leaving the owner much worse off financially than she would have been had she simply remained a wage laborer. Pulling together these ideas, one critic of Cohen concludes that escaping into the petty bourgeoisieis a reasonable alternative only for a tiny minority of workers. Thus the vast majority of working-class individuals are forced to sell their labor power to earn a living (Peffer, 152).

But even if Cohen is wrong, and individual workers are forced to sell their labor power, notice that it does not yet follow that workers are exploited. For forced labor alone does not exploitation make. Exploitation, as described above, involves forced, unpaid labor. Let us turn, then, to the issue of compensation, and in particular, to the question of whether workers toil (at least in part) for free.

Again, surface appearances cut against the socialist position. Wage laborers standardly receive an hourly wage. If they work, say, eight hours, they get eight hours pay. It certainly seems, then, that workers receive full compensation for their toil. Perhaps this compensation is unfairly low, but that is a different issue: the exploitation charge, standardly construed, is that workers are forced to work for no pay, not that they are forced to work for low pay.

But probe more deeply, some socialists contend, and the unpaid nature of much work under capitalism becomes clear. To see their argument, it helps to start with an easier case: feudal production. Under feudalism, serfs spent part of their working time working in their own fields and the rest working in their lords fields. They kept whatever they could grow on their own plots, and surrendered whatever they grew on the lords. Put differently, serfs received compensation for part of their working time, but no compensation at all for the rest of it. A great deal of their work, then, was wholly unpaid: a fact that was very obvious to all involved, given the physical separation between paid work (on the serfs fields) and unpaid work (on the lords).

Marxists argue that precisely the same division between paid and unpaid work exists under capitalism. Workers spend the first part of their working day working, in effect, for themselves. This is the part of the day during which they produce the equivalent of their wages. Marx calls this necessary labor time. But the working day does not stop there. Indeed, it cannot stop there, for if it did, there would be no surplus product for the capitalist to appropriate, and thus no reason for the capitalist to hire the worker in the first place. So the capitalist requires the worker to perform surplus labor, which is just labor beyond necessary labor: labor beyond what is required to produce value equivalent to the workers wage. The value produced during surplus labor time, Marx calls surplus value. Crucially, this surplus value belongs to the capitalist rather than the worker, and is the source of all profits.

To illustrate, consider a worker who produces 1 widget per hour over the course of an eight-hour shift, thus yielding eight widgets in total. Her boss takes these widgets, sells them, and then returns part of the proceeds to the worker in the form of a wage. But this wage must be less than what the capitalist reaped by selling the widgets. Otherwise the capitalist would have nothing left over as profit. To fix ideas, suppose that the workers daily wage is equivalent to the value of 2 widgets. To produce this value, she had to toil for 2 hours (at 1 widget per hour). Yet her shift lasts 8 hours. It follows that she spent 2 hours working for herself, and 6 hours working for her boss: which is to say, 6 hours working for free.

We can now appreciate Marxs remark that the secret of the self-expansion of capital [that is, the secret of profit] resolves itself into having the disposal of a definite quantity of other peoples unpaid labor (Capital Vol. I, 534). Profits, on Marxist analysis, are possible only through the extraction of unpaid surplus labor from workers. Wage workers toil gratis no less than serfs. That the division between paid and unpaid labor under capitalism is temporal rather than physical or spatial (as under serfdom) makes this division harder to see, but it does not in any way diminish its realityor so the socialist argument goes.

How exactly is socialism supposed to eliminate exploitation? Notice that it would not eliminate work itself, as Marx writes, Just as the savage must wrestle with Nature to satisfy his wants, to maintain and reproduce life, so must civilized man, and he must do so under all social formations and under all modes of production (Capital Vol. III, Ch. 48). So even under socialism, work must be done.

However, it does not follow that people must be forced to do it. Society could eliminate the compulsion to labor by partly decoupling income (or access to basic resources more broadly) from work. Philippe van Parijss unconditional basic income represents one way to achieve this decoupling. On his proposal, which has attracted significant support from socialist quarters, each citizen, no matter how rich or how poor, would be paid a monthly income, set as high as possible, and in any case sufficient to live with dignity. This income would come without any strings attached. In particular, it would not be conditional on working, seeking work, or training for future work. It would go to all members of the political community: leisured surfers off of Malibu no less than industrious steelworkers in Pittsburgh.

Perhaps the economic feasibility of such a proposal may be questioned. But for present purposes, the important thing to appreciate is the way in which a UBI (as it is known) gives each person the real freedom to drop out of the paid labor force, thereby eliminating both the compulsion to work and (therefore) exploitation.

From a socialist perspective, there are at least two potential problems with this way of eliminating exploitation.

First, a UBI enables people to live off the hard work of othersno reciprocation required. Again, surfers get the check no less than people with paid employment. But socialists complain when capitalists live off the work of others; shouldnt they complain when surfers (and so forth) behave similarly?

Second, there is nothing uniquely socialist about a UBI. Capitalist no less than socialist societies can implement a UBI, thereby enabling everyone to live decently without working. A defender of capitalism might therefore insist that when it comes to exploitation, capitalism and socialism are on all fours: both are equally susceptible to exploitation and equally able to enact the policies needed to eliminate it.

In response, socialists might point to the second necessary feature of exploitation, non-compensation. Notice that compensation takes many forms. Acquiring exclusive control over a sum of money, or over a bundle of resources, is one of them. But so too is acquiring a share of control over resources. Say that you and I work to build a tree house which we then jointly control. Neither of us has exclusive say over the tree house. And yet it would be wrong to conclude that our labors have gone uncompensated. We have been compensated; its just that our compensation comes in the form of common rather than private property.

This is precisely the sense in which all labor is compensated under socialism. Workers own the means of production together; they (therefore) own the surplus generated by these means. True, they do not own this surplus privately. They share control over its disposition and use. But shared control can be a form of compensation no less than private control.

Under capitalism, workers have private ownership over their wages (and the things these wages buy) but no ownership at all over most of what they produce. This is the sense in which most of their laboring activity goes uncompensated. Workers produce a surplus, hand it over to capitalists, and are then cut out of the picture; their bosses are free to do with the surplus whatever they like: consume it, invest it, burn it, and so forth. Under socialism, by contrast, workers have private ownership over their wages (or, in a money-less economy, over resources for personal use) and collective ownership over the social surplus they produce. They both make the surplus and share control over how to use this surplus. At no point, then, are socialist producers toiling for free, since their labors go towards building an economy that is shared and controlled by all. Its as if everyone made a gigantic tree house that everyone is then free to use and to help govern.

So, contrary to the capitalist objection raised 4 paragraphs back, it seems that socialism is uniquely well positioned to eliminate exploitation. Both socialism and capitalism could, in principle, eliminate forced labor by attenuating the link between income and work. But only socialism can ensure that all work is compensated through common ownership of the social surplus. Thus socialism expunges exploitation from economic life even absent something like a UBI, whereas the same cannot be said of capitalism.

Against this argument, critics might reply that the kind of compensation for surplus labor promised by socialism is wholly inadequate. Under capitalism, the workers surplus is appropriated by the capitalist; under socialism, the workers surplus is appropriated by society. From the workers point of view, this may seem a distinction without a difference. Both appropriations rob the worker of effective control over the fruits of her labor. True, under socialism the worker is a member of the group doing the appropriating, but, as merely one of millions of such members, her individual influence over that group is infinitesimal. Is it plausible to regard her tiny sliver of decision-making power over the surplus as compensation for her surplus labor? Arguably not, in which case socialism does not actually eliminate exploitation.

Many socialists point to considerations of freedom, broadly understood, to support socialism over capitalism.

Freedom comes in many varieties. This article will discuss two. Formal freedom involves the absence of interference. Effective freedom involves the presence of capability. A person who is unable to walk has the formal freedom to ascend a steep flight of stepsassuming that no one will interfere with her attemptbut lacks the effective freedom to do so.

It is sometimes suggested that socialism fares poorly with respect to formal freedom. There are two main grounds for this contention, one historical, the other conceptual.

Historically, many countries claiming to be socialist trampled basic liberties such as freedom of expression and religion. They imprisoned and killed political dissidents and other enemies of the people. Far from being free societies, they were deeply oppressive ones.

Some critics of socialism suggest that this historical correlation between socialism and oppression was no accident. Rather, it reflects a deep flaw in socialisms design. Socialism concentrates economic and political power in the hands of the state. Abuse is inevitable under such conditions. Milton Friedman, building off of this insight, famously posited a necessary connection between capitalism (which, unlike socialism, disperses economic power rather than concentrating it) and freedom: not all capitalist societies are free, but all durably free societies must be capitalist.

Socialists concede the heart of Friedmans point, but argue that it does not undermine their position. Friedman, they say, was right to warn against excessive centralization of power. But he was wrong to suggest that socialism necessarily requires said centralization. The contemporary socialist ideal is profoundly democratic and decentralized; it seeks to disperse economic power, not concentrate it. It aspires to an economy and a society controlled from the broad bottom, not the narrow top. So the kind of socialism that contemporary socialists embrace is simply different than the kind of socialism targeted by Friedmans critique. Put differently, Friedmans worry attacks a view held by very few socialists todayor so it might be argued.

Turning to a different objection, it is sometimes suggested that on purely conceptual grounds socialism is a more restrictive society than capitalism. The argument for this claim is simple. Capitalism permits private ownership of productive assets; socialism does not. Socialism therefore provides less formal freedom than capitalism. It interferes with various economic activities that capitalism allows. Thus, if what you value is formal freedom, then you should prefer capitalism to socialism.

The trouble with this argument, as pointed out by G.A. Cohen, is that it see[s] the freedom which is intrinsic to capitalism [but not] the unfreedom which necessarily accompanies capitalist freedom (Capitalism, Freedom, and the Proletariat 150). Capitalism does indeed allow some things that socialism forbids: for example, opening a business. But the converse is also true. To use Cohens example: I am free to pitch a tent on common land. I am not free to pitch a tent on land that you own privately. Should I try, the state will interfere, thereby reducing my formal freedom. Private propertys effects on formal freedom, then, are not uniformly positive, but mixed. Private property extends formal freedom to owners even as it withdraws it from non-owners. As Cohen writes, To think of capitalism as a realm of freedom is to overlook half its nature (Capitalism, Freedom, and the Proletariat 152)

Of course, precisely the same can and indeed must be said of socialism. All systems of property, whether capitalist or socialist, exert complex effects on formal freedom; all such systems necessarily distribute both freedom and unfreedom. But in light of this complexity, our guiding question herewhich system, capitalism or socialism, provides more formal freedom?is probably unanswerable. All we can say with confidence is that these systems provide differently shaped zones of formal freedom; each extends formal freedom in some ways while restricting it in others. However, it seems extremely difficult, perhaps impossible, to determine which of these zones is larger overall. At the very least, defenders of capitalism must say a great deal more to establish that capitalism is, a priori, a freer society than socialism.

Socialists score this particular fight a draw.

Whereas socialists tend to play defense regarding formal freedom, they go on offense when discussing effective freedom.

Effective freedom, again, involves the capacity to accomplish ones ends. This implies but goes beyond formal freedom. Say that my goal is to complete a marathon. One way I can fail to accomplish this goal is by meeting with agential interference. If you physically restrain me from participating in the race, you undermine my effective freedom by undermining my formal freedom. However, effective freedom usually requires much more than the mere absence of interference. I can actually complete a marathon, for example, only if a host of further conditions are in place. Some are broadly social: I must live in a society in which marathons occur. Others are broadly economic: I must be able to afford all the costs associated with training for the race, traveling to the race, entering the race, and so forth. And there are physical or internal factors as well. I cant finish the marathon unless I have sufficient mobility and endurance. All of which is to say that effective freedom depends upon a wide range of factors, many of which have nothing to do with human interference per se.

Now, in a good and just society, which effective freedomswhich capabilities, as they are sometimes calledwould people have? The typical socialist response runs as follows. At a minimum, everyone must have the effective freedom to meet their basic needs for food, shelter, health care, and so on. With these capabilities in place, people are able to survive. This is a crucial accomplishment, and one demanded by minimal standards of justice and decency. However, a truly good society must set its sights higher; it must enable people not merely to survive, but also to flourish.

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Kudlow: Big government socialism is not the America we love – Fox Business

Kudlow discusses Bidens leadership qualities amid crises with inflation, COVID, and Afghanistan.

This has not been a great year for our great country. We'll talk about that in a minute.

Save America, kill the bill was one of the better things that happened this year.

But I want to go back and quote President Trump's super-optimistic message for Thanksgiving, but I'm going to substitute Christmas.

Here it is:

"A very interesting time in our country, but do not worry, we will be great againand we will all do it together... America will never fail, and we will never allow it to go in the wrong direction. Too many generations of greatness are counting on us. Enjoy your Christmas - knowing that a wonderful future lies ahead!"

This is Trump at his absolute best his faith in America and its democracy and freedoms, his faith in "America first" and its resiliency against all odds or events.

FORMER TREASURY SECRETARY ISSUES GRIM WARNING ABOUT LOOMING RECESSION

Whether you agree with aspects ofMr. Trump or not, I would propose that his message is exactly the kind of optimistic leadership that this country needsright now.Instead of a "winter of severe illness and death," we need an optimistic link to the strength of the people in America throughout the country, including the so-called"deplorables" attacked by media elites with their snooty noses in the air and their snarky responses to those who don't agree with their left-wingwokeism. So count me as a Christmas optimist.

Brigg Macadam founding partner Greg Swenson discusses market volatility and the president's Build Back Better bill.

Traditional conservative values will, in the end, triumph. So will free-enterprise capitalism. So will freedom to choose. So will the importance of religion.

President Biden has had a rough year because he has gone in a completely different, extremist direction.

His polls are collapsing, but he won't listen. Afghanistan was a catastrophe. We could be on the edge of war with Russia in the Ukraine.

TRUMP IN BETTER POSITION THAN BIDEN FOR 2024 RUN, EX-CLINTON ADVISER SAYS

Catastrophic flows of illegal immigrants from an open-borders policy. The inflation rate has soared because of the massive government spending financed by huge money creation from the Fed.

Big government socialism is not the America we love. Over-regulation for state control of energy, banking, health care, and education is not the American way. Government replacing parents and families is not the American way. A radical left agenda is not the American way. Across-the-board mandates is not the American way.

GOP REP SAYS BIDEN ADMIN MADE EVERY FOOLISH DECISION POSSIBLE

The fact that we killed the bill should give Biden pause that he is on the wrong track. But he won't listen. He and his crowd are stubborn, radical lefties.

Frankly, President Trump left this country in very good shape. Tax cuts, deregulation, energy dominance, securing our southern border, tough on China and Russia, near-zero inflation, record low unemployment for minority groups, falling poverty, reducing inequality, and boosting middle-class family income.

RealClearPolitics White House reporter Phil Wegmann argues that Biden seems to be all-in to run in the 2024 race.

As I said on this show, right from its very beginning, if itain'tbroke, don't fix it. Biden has made the tragic mistake of attempting to reverse all the successful Trump policies. This was abigmistake.

Sometimes I think that Biden acted on his own Trump Derangement Syndrome without any thoughtful analysis of his policies.

But while nothing is perfect, Donald Trump handed Joe Biden a silver platter. Sadly, Joe Biden has taken that silver platter and badly tarnished, twisted, and contorted that beautiful platter almost beyond recognition.

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To return to Donald Trump's optimistic message:

"We will be great againand we will all do it together. America will never fail ... Too many generations of greatness are counting on us."

CLICK HERE TO READ MORE ON FOX BUSINESS

On that note, Merry Christmas folks. Wewillsave America, and wewillkill the bill.

This article is adapted from Larry Kudlow's opening commentary on December 23, 2021

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Kudlow: Big government socialism is not the America we love - Fox Business

The Return of the ‘Sewer Socialists’ – Progressive.org – Progressive.org

On November 3, Richie Floyd, a former middle school science teacher, was elected to the city council of St. Petersburg with 51 percent of the vote. Floyd, as a member of the Democratic Socialists of America, is now not only the only openly socialist elected official in Florida, but also the first to be elected in the state in nearly 100 years.

Floyd, like many young socialists, became more active in politics after Vermont Senator Bernie Sanderss 2016 run for President. Originally from the Florida Panhandle, Floyd moved to St. Petersburg in 2018, where he became involved in local organizing with the local DSA chapter, in labor politics, and with various progressive coalitions locally and statewide.

His work as an activist for raising Floridas minimum wage to $15which passed in 2020sometimes brought him to city hall, where he learned the importance of local politics in grassroots organizing, informing his decision to run for office. He also met his own city council member, Amy Foster, who later became one of his first major endorsements.

Floyd defined his campaign on simple, popular issues: housing, jobs, and the environment.

Floyd defined his campaign on simple, popular issues: housing, jobs, and the environment. His policy goals include expanded public housing and tenant protections, increased jobs training programs and wages, and rigorous environmental protections (an important issue for a city surrounded by rising ocean waters).

While he didnt hide it, Floyd didnt win his election by labeling himself a socialist. Instead, Floyd won his election by running on the values of democratic socialism.

It was never vote for me because Im the Democratic Socialist, he says. It was here are the issues, heres what we want to accomplish, and these are the values we have.

Be a good co-worker, and be a good neighbor, is Floyds starting point for organizing and winning as a socialist. Its a straightforward philosophy, but one that seems to be working in communities across the country.

Cities like Chicago, Minneapolis, Buffalo, Seattle, and New York City have had a groundswell of progressive politics in recent years that has projected democratic socialist candidates into city council and other local elected offices. Floyds victory puts St. Petersburg on a growing list of cities with openly socialist elected officials.

Socialisms resurgence into U.S. politics hasnt yet translated into majorities on city councils or winning the mayorship of major cities. But that doesnt mean that cant happenin fact, theres a robust historical precedent for it.

It can feel hard to imagine today, but there was a time when socialists held significant positions in local governments across the United States. One of the countrys most famed and successful experiments in socialist politics happened in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

For nearly fifty years, socialists commanded Milwaukees city council and held the highest elected city positions. In 1910, after years of corrupt governance by both the Democratic and Republican parties in Milwaukee, voters elected socialist Emil Seidel as mayor and awarded socialists a majority on the city council.

Dubbed the Sewer Socialists in jest due to their interest in public works, Milwaukees socialists came to adopt the term with pride. The Sewer Socialists shaped Milwaukees politics for decades by cracking down on corruption in local government and providing real, tangible benefits for working people.

Yes, we wanted sewers in the workers homes, wrote Seidel, reflecting at age ninety on his time as mayor and the Sewer Socialist movement he helped champion, but we wanted much . . . so very much more than sewers.

We wanted our workers to have pure air; we wanted them to have sunshine; we wanted planned homes; we wanted living wages; we wanted recreation for young and old; we wanted vocational education; we wanted a chance for every human being to be strong and live a life of happiness.

The Sewer Socialists made practical, tangible changes that improved peoples lives that enabled them to win election after election. They did, as their name suggests, improve the citys sewage system. They also passed worker protections, raised wages, and created public parks and beaches for people to enjoy. During the Sewer Socialists tenure, TIME magazine called Milwaukee one of the best run cities in the U.S.

Milwaukees socialist history provides a model for not just electoral victories, but also for good governance: Run campaigns on working-class issues, govern with honesty, and provide for the people.

Todays elected democratic socialists seem to have taken this message to heart.

The higher-profile Democratic Socialist candidates whove made it Congress have typically come from diverse, working class, urban areas, like Representatives Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York in the Bronx and Queens, Ilhan Omar in Minneapolis, and Rashida Tliab in Detroit. This is also true for socialists elected to city councils in larger, more progressive cities.

But, increasingly, socialists are winning in less expected places. Floyds story is a testament to that, but so are other elections like the case of Anita Prizio in Allegheny County, Pennsylvania, and Danny Nowell in Carrboro, South Carolina.

Floyd contends that socialists are successful when they are visible and fight for the issues that working class people care about: If you dont stand for working people, what the hell do you stand for?, he told me.

His victory supports this, as does the history of socialism in the United States. And it is a message that Democrats and other progressives across Florida and around the country would be wise to heed as the 2022 elections approach.

Floyds victory did happen in a blue city, but its a blue city in Florida, a state that increasingly befuddles Democrats.

For years now, the states Democrats have been losing ground to Republicans. Theyve lost the governorship, the state legislature, and U.S. Congressional seats. Last month, Republicans even overtook Democrats in voter registration.

The first thing you have to understand is that Florida is a Southern state. The Democratic legacy here is of the Dixiecrats and Jim Crow, Floyd says. The Democratic leadership in this state, until about twenty-five years ago, had a large contingent of conservatives.

Floyd presents an alternative model to progresive changeone that skirts past the Democratic Party as the vehicle for left politics and charts a new path.

Working class politics is good here, Floyd tells The Progressive. Theres a political base that just isnt tapped into, but it exists and you can see that in issue campaigns.

Floyds own turnout attests to this. In precincts with a larger proportion of Republicans than others, Floyd garnered a higher vote share than the Democratic candidate for mayor.

Our coalition was not a traditional Democratic coalition, he says. The people that knew us the best and voted for us were more conservative and right-leaning than you would think. We may have lost Democratic voters, but we picked up some conservative ones. We tried to set the example that socialists can win in cities that arent deep blue.

The issues that Floyd ran on are the ones that win campaigns and make real change, but theyre also not typically endorsed by either major party.

The concerns that unite most contemporary U.S. socialists are popular, and growing more popular: Medicare for All, the Green New Deal, and a $15 minimum wage all enjoy support from strong majorities of the country. Other major pieces of the DSAs political programreproductive justice, anti-militarism, public housing and rent protections, and criminal justice reformare also immensely popular.

And where socialists dont succeed, they build power for working class people.

This isnt to say socialist candidates will win every election. There are a number of barriers socialists face in getting elected: raising funds in an anti-democratic campaign finance system, resistance from the establishment in the Democratic Party, and red-baiting from both major parties and the mainstream media.

But these barriers, with good organizing and good politics, can be overcome.

Todays socialists offer an alternative to the broken status quo, and the electoral victories they do achieve suggest that voters arent so predictable and monolithic as to always be considered firmly in the grasp of one party or the other.

And where socialists dont succeed, they build power for working class people. In Buffalo, following Democratic Socialist India Waltons failed mayoral run, Starbucks employees successfully organized to become the companys first unionized caf.

In many ways, todays municipal left electoral movement can be a test for socialisms viability more broadly. If socialism can make peoples streets better, their water safer, and their parks cleaner, then perhaps it can do something positive at the federal level, too.

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The Return of the 'Sewer Socialists' - Progressive.org - Progressive.org