What Latin America Can Teach About Political Instability

[Pictured: A group of fascists march in Brazil in 2019, with hopes of reviving Brazilian Integralism]

By Diego Viana

For a Latin American like me, a certain anxiety currently expressed by liberals and social democrats in the wealthy West is intriguing. Op-eds in the mainstream media and book titles in political science set off the alarm: democracy, often designated our democracy, is in danger. Why? Because centrist political forces are gradually losing their capacity to determine the terms of the debate and the universe of what is possible, election after election, opinion poll after opinion poll. Meanwhile, the social landscape is transformed by an increasingly aggressive far Right and the return of the Left to the streets around 2011, after a somewhat dormant decade. It is true that political, economic, and social leaderships with little esteem for a democratic veneer are clearly on the rise. It is also true that mass protests and barricades are back in the game. Yet, seen from my part of the world, these trends are remarkably familiar.

It is tempting to reduce the complexity of current political tendencies by jamming them all into the single narrative of “rising populism,” as mainstream political scientists and journalists in the West so often do. It is comfortable, but hardly elucidating, to melt such names as Marine and Jean-Marie Le Pen, Éric Zemmour, Donald Trump, Georgia Meloni, Vox, Alternative for Germany (AfD) and the United Kingdom Independence Party, but also Jean-Luc Mélenchon, Bernie Sanders, Podemos, Jeremy Corbyn, and others, into a single political concept, and then contrast them with a liberal center deemed democratic in essence. 

Comfortable, of course, for those who only aspire to lament the slow corrosion of liberal democracy, as witnessed in Eastern European countries like Poland or Hungary. The framework that delimits the trend as a rise of populism or illiberalism conveniently leaves aside the traditional Right's consistent drift further right. France is a good example. While the suburbs burn in protest against police brutality, the traditional Republicans (formerly “Union for a Popular Movement”) send out xenophobic and racist messages and policy proposals. President Emmanuel Macron, in turn, who was once a minister under socialist president François Hollande, then was elected in 2017 with a strictly neoliberal platform, places himself increasingly in the orbit of rightist ideas, hoping to keep right-wing voters within reach. In 2021, he adopted the notion that universities are dominated by “Islamo-leftism.” This year, he repeated far-right novelist Renaud Camus's diagnosis of a “decivilization” of France.

And yet, someone like Macron, who bypassed Congress to sign a pension reform into law despite overwhelming popular opposition, is considered a symbol of liberal democracy. Is it simply because, unlike Le Pen's Right or Mélenchon's Left, he remains a free market champion? Or, likewise, is the Conservative British government, which installed a prison boat to detain immigrants, liberal-democratic because they don't subscribe to the recoil of economic nationalism characteristic of their Brexiteer predecessors under Boris Johnson? If (neo)liberalism itself develops into a strict surveillance/police state, with a distinctly authoritarian horizon, are we still speaking about democracy?

I believe the Latin American experience suggests that the most significant aspect of the current political trend is neither its “populism” [1] nor its “illiberalism,” but its instability. While the usually nationalistic, sometimes ultraliberal, occasionally religious, and often openly fascist New Right has been rising relentlessly, by creating new parties or caucuses inside the traditional ones, the process has not been as steady as it might seem. In the last decade, the Right, Left, and Center have all seesawed vertiginously between victory and defeat. Think of how the AfD in Germany grew during the refugee crisis of 2016, then lost popularity in the aftermath of the pandemic, then grew again. Or how the traditional Left won the French 2012 elections, only to be practically wiped out in 2017, replaced by Mélenchon's France Insoumise, which has now become the centerpiece of the left-wing coalition NUPES (New Ecological and Social People’s Union) in Congress. Or how the Labour Party reached 40% of the vote that same year with Corbyn as leader, before the debacle [2] that led to the rise of Keir Starmer. Or even the rise of young socialists in the United States, while the obscurantist Right took over the Supreme Court. More recently, in Spain, the Right's inability to form a government with the neofascists from Vox, immediately following a significant victory in local elections, shows that the game is not as linear as is often depicted. Quite the opposite: it oscillates wildly.

Moreover, in most of these countries, opinion polls do not show a clear preference for the nationalist, xenophobic, ultraconservative ideas these groups profess. It is true that they usually don't tip towards left-wing ideas either, such as redistribution or public ownership. Nevertheless, if people in Europe and the United States tend to view the world with a more "centrist" lens, then the loss of steam by the centrist forces becomes puzzling in its own right. Which leads to the good old materialistic interpretation: the political oscillation and the ultra-conservative call may reflect economic insecurities, or, more widely, deeper anxieties concerning living conditions.

The relation between the worsening living conditions and the odd mix of nationalism, racism, bigotry, religious fanaticism, and libertarianism we are becoming used to is not immediately obvious. Sadly, structural relations are rarely obvious. But it is not hard to notice that, in the absence of factors that foster social cohesion — through common experiences, such as work relations and opportunities to consume, which give people a feeling of participation in economic life, and public services, pensions, unemployment benefits etc. — those yearning for belonging may recourse to confrontational forms of religiosity, a renewed strength of white supremacy, or the extreme demands of a neoliberal ethics as it appears in the Silicon Valley way of life, where every aspect of existence is monetized. All of these seem to be fusing as the contemporary face of fascism.

Which brings us back to Latin America, this old periphery of the Western colonial powers (the United States came up with a much cruder term: “backyard”). Here, political oscillation has been the rule in most countries, not in the sense of what in the region is usually called the “healthy alternation of power,” but violent swings between oligarchic (and, more recently, neoliberal) and progressive forces, with a constant risk of authoritarian slides. The 1990s were a nearly monolithic neoliberal period in the region, succeeded by two “red (or pink) tides,” when a series of somewhat left-wing parties took power in many countries almost simultaneously. In between, a conservative interregnum took hold, either via elections or coups — explicit or not (Honduras in 2009 [3], Paraguay in 2012, Brazil in 2016, Bolivia in 2019).

The Argentinian case is probably the most extreme, as the country is still grappling with financial asphyxiation due to the insistence on a one-to-one parity between the peso and dollar from 1991 to 2001, and the  “rescue” packages from the International Monetary Fund (IMF) that followed. In the last decade, the left-wing “Peronista” president Cristina Kirchner was followed by the businessman Mauricio Macri in 2015. Macri then fell out of favor with the electorate due to an inflationary hike intensified by yet another IMF package, and the left-leaning Peronistas [4] regained the Casa Rosada in 2019 with the current president Alberto Fernández.

This year's electoral process has a particularity. In the primaries (where voting is open to all and mandatory), the libertarian, discreetly fascist candidate, Javier Milei, received 30% of the vote, ahead of the traditional right-wing opposition (28.3%) and the governing coalition (27.3%). This means that Milei's prospects of actually becoming president by the end of the year are far from unrealistic. At the time of writing, he’s the betting favorite.

In Brazil, a decade of turmoil ended the relatively stable period associated with the post-1988 “New Republic.” This era of stability, whose hallmark is the adoption of an economic stability plan in 1994, was punctuated by the presidencies of center-right Fernando Henrique Cardoso (1995-2002) and center-left Luiz Inácio “Lula” da Silva (2003-2010), whose tenures marked a particularly optimistic time, when Brazilians genuinely felt that the country had reached a new stage of political maturity — if there is such thing. The following decade, which began hopefully and the expectation of the 2014 World Cup and 2016 Olympics in Rio de Janeiro, would turn out to be marked by a series of mass protests beginning in 2013 and political strife.

The apex of this instability came in 2016, when a poorly justified impeachment process sacked Lula's successor, Dilma Rousseff, who faced increasingly vitriolic opposition in Congress, the media, and even heavily astroturfed protests in the streets. The process, which has consistently been denounced as a coup by the Left, installed her conservative vice president, Michel Temer, in her seat. The traditional political forces of Brazil, which includes large landowners, bankers, the very few families that control the media, the high bureaucracy, the military, and what is left of the manufacturing sector, believed this would obliterate the Workers' Party (PT) and lead to many years of center-right governments.

Instead, the 2018 election brought what felt like a preordained victory for a caricatural far-right candidate who promised to “clean up” the country of leftists and, during the pandemic, mocked the victims and imitated a person suffocating to death. COVID killed more than 700.000 Brazilians. Four years later, Lula was back in office, elected by an insignificant margin of 1.8% of the vote, and riding on the widest imaginable alliance.

In the last few years, the oscillation intensified and accelerated. Peru, Paraguay, Bolivia, and Ecuador have faced protests, impeachments, jailed ex-presidents, fascist presidents, and strikes [5]. Chile — historically the most stable South American country — caught fire.

The 2019 “estallido social” (social blowup) during the presidency of neoliberal Sebastián Piñera led to the formation of a remarkably progressive constituent assembly. The 2021 election pitted the young left-wing activist Gabriel Boric against the neofascist José Antonio Kast, with a victory for Boric that may have been his last. Since then, the project of a new constitution suffered a resounding defeat and his approval rates have sunk. 

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In Colombia last year, Gustavo Petro, a former guerrilla fighter and mayor of the capital, Bogotá, was the first left-wing candidate to reach the presidency, with Francia Márquez, a black female environmentalist, as vice president. Petro's party, Humane Colombia (formerly “the Progressive Movement”), is small and had to rely on a heterogenous alliance (Historic Pact for Colombia) to achieve victory. In government, as the alliance shattered with some of the parties failing to vote with the government, Petro and Márquez came under fire from all sides: the regional agricultural elites, the traditional parties (such as ex-president Álvaro Uribe's Democratic Center) and, of course, the media — which, as in many of the neighboring countries, is highly concentrated. As usual, accusations of corruption are the first tactics employed. In Petro's case, they involve illegal drug money in the electoral campaign and spying on his enemies.

In sum, except for Uruguay, where the Left governed for 14 years and was succeeded last year by a traditional, “normal,” neoliberal president, the politics of Latin America are unstable and often nasty. Progressive, conservative, and neofascist governments have been coming and going in many of the key Latin American countries. No particular set of policies seems to be able to take hold. One group reaches power when the others have disappointed their constituencies.

Why are they disappointed? Once again, because of living conditions, which have largely stagnated for at least two generations, beginning in the early 1980s and leading to rural and urban conflicts, underemployment, and that same permeability of the middle classes to neofascist messages as we are witnessing in the West. As the social tissue increasingly frays, those with a certain level of property and wellbeing feel threatened, and it is hardly a surprise that they resort to “saviors” and “punishers.”

And what makes the Latin American case so instructive for the developed West? I would argue that Latin America, being a “fragile” satellite of the Western world, is particularly exposed to the fluctuations that reveal a crack in the edifice of liberal democracy, in the way this form of government has developed over the last half-century.

While a significant portion of humanity has been living under the aegis of neoliberalism since the late 1970s and particularly after the fall of the Soviet Union, it seems that everywhere in the world the mental model of political stability is still the social-democratic system of the post-WW2 period, particularly in Europe, and known in France as “Les Trente Glorieuses,” the three “glorious” decades of growth with distribution, well-paid manufacturing jobs, widespread unionization, and a managed form of capitalism that guaranteed a comparatively high level of social participation in policymaking. In other words, we seem to expect a kind of world, with the living conditions it implies, that belongs to a bygone era. Our grandparents took a certain political security and quality of life for granted, and we still long for that. But it is not within our reach.

Social-democratic parties promise to reconstitute this historical structure, and occasionally win with that message. But they cannot deliver and lose face, support, and credibility. Then come the conservatives, who intensify the neoliberal agenda, only to cause more precariousness and financialization. Then come the neofascists, who generate horror, social conflict, and brutality. And the cycle repeats.

The illusory character of this somewhat rosy depiction of the mid-20th century is well-documented and nowhere more evident than in what was then called the “Third World.” In Africa, Latin America, and Southeast Asia, the voracious quest for raw materials and cheap labor left a trail of civil wars, coups, and massacres. This probably reminds you of the Vietnam War, but the military dictatorships in Brazil, Argentina, Uruguay, Chile etc., all of which were supported by the CIA, are also part of the story. The colonial grip over these parts of the world far outlasted the formal colonial ownership or “protection,” as we see from the Western interventions following independence wars in African countries. To a large extent, the comfortable lifestyle that the West associates with liberal democracy was built on the exploitation of the rest of the world, in a renewed form of colonialism.

What made possible the political balance that characterized the “Trente Glorieuses,” with strong trade unions, rising manufacturing wages, and social mobility (in French again: the “ascenseur social,” or “social elevator”), was the possibility and necessity of class negotiations and agreements. Neither capital nor organized labor could expect to have their way in full — even taking into account the strong communist parties of Europe, whose revolutionary flame was kept as low as possible most of the time. Political systems could remain stable and successful due to this delicate equilibrium. However, the equilibrium in turn was maintained thanks to a fear of the Soviet bloc, an unimpeded flow of cheap oil, easy access to resources and markets in the “Third World,” and the absence of serious economic competition from non-Western countries.

As we know, this model was progressively eroded by several factors. The quick rise in productivity that accompanied the industrial advance waned off, making it harder to keep the wage increases. The rise of neoliberalism eliminated the redistributive mechanisms that could have extended the balance of power between capital and labor for a few more years. The capacity of China and other Asian countries to attract manufacturing jobs with ever higher skill profiles, in part due to the opening of markets known as globalization, broke unions' bargaining power. Neoliberalism first emerged and reached power as a response to the exhaustion of the post-war welfare state, the social-democratic model. But it never truly replaced, even among the Left, the notion of a nearly ideal state of affairs where a certain level of democracy was guaranteed by what the German philosopher Theodor Adorno called “managed capitalism” [6].

What makes Latin America a particularly relevant place to understand where the structural power relations are heading elsewhere is that many of the countries mentioned above have been experiencing a post-industrial kind of stagnation for several decades already, after an incomplete process of economic development undertaken precisely in the period of late colonialism, Cold War, and the belief that industrialization was an infallible catalyst of development. Latin America, which never quite developed the institutions of Western social democracy, has to cope with swollen cities, underemployment and informal work, capital imbalances, crumbling infrastructure, but has poor political means to respond. And it was, after all, the site of the first experiment in neoliberal governance: Augusto Pinochet's Chilean dictatorship.

As a result, neoliberal, progressive, and fascist governments replace each other continually, not always in the smooth manner one expects from the ideals of liberal democracy. Occasionally, promises of improved living conditions can be fulfilled, but only to a limited extent, which is why the success stories are quickly followed by a period of frustration and revolt, leading to power changing hands again.

In this context, it is not hard to see that the authoritarian far Right has an edge. Its advantage comes at a low cost. By promising the past over the future, the known over the unknown, the neofascists of our time are always able to delay satisfaction and simultaneously keep their position by blaming someone else. The worse it gets, the easier it is to repeat the process. While an ultraconservative government cannot provide the quality of life that subsists in people's imagination as a mark of the 20th century — the economic and even environmental conditions are incompatible — it can still renew its promise by blaming non-conforming groups for the slowly worsening conditions of life. Hence, the ghost of communism, the widespread xenophobia, the justifications of racism, misogyny, homophobia, etc. that have become so common in our time. 

The post-WW2 model tends toward utter unattainability. It should no longer be our horizon of expectations. Bleak as this may sound, it is safe to say that the edifice of multi-party democracy is crumbling before our eyes. In a world where energy is no longer abundant, manufacturing does not guarantee safe jobs for the working class, unions are busted, climate change puts crop yields at risk, and the neocolonial control over the rest of the world can no longer be expected, the social-democratic balance is hardly tenable.

The greatest risk is that the dominant classes give up the pretense of democracy and revert to a more explicit authoritarian regime. This is most certainly already underway, if we think of the Republican Party under Donald Trump, Israeli prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu's reforms, the British Conservatives, the Spanish People’s Party, or Macron. Once again, Latin America provides a clear-cut example of this choice, as the Right turns to military and religious leaders in their attempts to regain or extend control over the state.

If we can still hope for democracy, we have to accept that it will not be social democracy and certainly not liberal democracy. Whatever it will turn out to consist in, it must be built from the ground up, and the very process of construction needs to be as democratic as the expected final result. In this respect, the bright side — and it is always advisable to conclude from the bright side — of the Latin American landscape is that this part of the world is also a vibrant cluster of the grassroots political and social experimentation we must nurture. The plurinational constitution of Bolivia, the ecosocialism being developed by the Brazilian Landless Workers' Movement, the strength of solidarity economy schemes in Argentina, and the articulation of indigenous movements in many of the countries show that the authoritarian conservative turn is not a matter of necessity. New models of collective life and social organization are being forged, and this is where we should turn to find inspiration.

Diego Viana is a Brazilian economic journalist. He earned his PhD in political philosophy from the University of São Paulo and covers Brazilian politics, economy, and social conflict.

Footnotes

[1] In its contemporary form, the concept is most often used in a way that corresponds to Jan-Werner Müller's definition as pitting a “pure and unified people” against a “morally corrupt elite.” This is, of course, not a helpful definition if we are trying to understand the inherent instability of the period. I will not discuss this definition, and also leave aside the appropriation of the concept of populism by Chantal Mouffe, Ernesto Laclau, and Pierre Dardot, as the question of defining populism is beside the scope of this text.

[2] The main instrument of Corbyn's downfall was a report that accused him of not handling antisemitism accusations within the Labour Party appropriately. Later, Al Jazeera revealed that the party bureaucracy actively worked to undermine his leadership, which included drafting the antisemitism report. Corbyn was later suspended from the party.

[3] In 2009, the Honduran president Manuel Zelaya was forcefully removed from office by the army, in a traditional coup d'état. In Paraguay, President Fernando Lugo was ousted after a summary impeachment process with only two hours to prepare his defense. The cause was allegedly the insecurity in the country after a bloody conflict between landless workers and the police. This inaugurated the series of “parliamentary coups” that reached Brazilian Dilma Rousseff in 2016. The Bolivian case is different in that it involves the questionable decision by the Supreme Court to allow President Evo Morales to run for a fourth term. After he won the election, accusations of electoral irregularities emerged and the military forced him to resign.

[4] “Peronista” designates the political groups that claim the legacy of Juan Domingo Perón, president in the late 1940s and early 1950s. The reason why one must specify that these “Peronistas” are left-leaning is that there are “Peronistas” of all tendencies, including the conservative Carlos Menem, who introduced neoliberalism to the country in the 1990s. Perón himself tended to favor the right-wing Peronistas. In the 1960s, when exiled in Spain, Perón gave an interview where he was asked to explain how he saw the Argentinian political landscape. He listed the parties but did not include “Peronista” as a category. The reporter reminded him of that, to which he replied: “Oh, but they are all Peronistas.”

[5] I will leave aside the cases of Venezuela, El Salvador and Nicaragua, whose paths are outliers.

[6] A possible reason for this is that the neoliberal agenda transformed living conditions gradually — except in transitioning countries subjected to “shock doctrine” — progressively eroding labor's position in the distributive conflict, in order to uphold Western capitalism's competitive edge. The slow, but sure erosion of the Welfare State and the possibility of what the International Labour Organization names “decent work” seems to sustain the hope for a return to managed capitalism.

Dialectics of Hope

(Photo: Ekaterina Bykova/Shutterstock.com)

By Yanis Iqbal

The situation of the world is grim. Decades of neoliberalism - marked by the privatization of social life, deregulation of markets, increasing income inequality, labor flexploitation - has finally culminated in a politically regressive wave of right-wing resurgence. What we have now is “neoliberal fascism” - a new social formation in which the principles and practices of a fascist past and neoliberal present have merged, connecting the worst dimensions and excesses of neoliberal capitalism with the fascist ideals of ultra - nationalism and racial supremacy. Thus, in contradiction with the Right’s populist discourse, brutal processes of surplus-value extraction still occur; it is just that they have been politically re-packed through the use of archaic religio-cultural symbols to whip up mass hysteria against manufactured enemies.

The rise of the Right reflects the relations of forces in today’s world. With the technocratization of the state and party as mere appendages of neoliberal regulation, the scope for alternatives within electoral competition was drastically reduced. This led to an inter-party consensus on neoliberal orthodoxy. In this way, parties were reduced to different shades of the same economic policy with slightly varying promissory propagandas. Electoral competition, therefore, was exponentially abridged to signify a process through which people could choose different parties, all geared towards imposing austerity packages. Aijaz Ahmad calls this phenomenon the emergence of “mature liberal democracy in the neoliberal age” in which competing parties “function as mere factions in a managing committee of the bourgeoisie as a whole”. 

In a context like this - characterized by a shift in the balance of forces within the state in favor of the bourgeoisie and the installation of “policies without politics” - many people on the Left are understandably pessimistic about the prospects for socialism. The primary question reverberating loudly through the terrain of struggle is this: what grounds do we have for continuing the hard labor of sustaining a revolutionary movement in highly adverse conditions? Insisting on the indispensable presence of hope is perceived as playing with fire. However, hope is what we need. Without hope, there is no possibility of sustained engagement in a revolutionary movement. Moreover, hope for a radical re-constitution of existing societal conditions is present in the very movements of capital. In other words, we need to discover the material determinations of hope in its present mode of existence as a hidden potentiality and turn it into actuality through conscious revolutionary action.

The Origins of Capitalism

A highly schematic look at the origins of capitalism helps us to ground hope in a material soil. The present system we have was not a result of the operation of quasi-supernatural forces. Rather, it was the outcome of a (continuing) conflict between the logic of capitalist accumulation and other logics stemming from the resistance of social forces that suffer the effects of such economic processes. The separation of the direct producer from the means of production, the consequent transformation of labor power into a commodity, and the concentration of the means of production in the hands of the buyer of labor power were the contingent results of concrete antagonisms and social struggles. The interpretation of capitalism as a social form composed of unstable conjunctions of domination and resistance is elaborated by Etienne Balibar in his preface to “Race, Nation, Class: Ambiguous Identities”.

In the preface, Balibar writes: “The capitalist division of labor has nothing to do with a complementarity of tasks, individuals and social groups: it leads rather…to the polarization of social formations into antagonistic classes whose interests are decreasingly ‘common’ ones. How is the unity (even the conflictual unity) of a society to be based on such a division? Perhaps we should then invert our interpretation of the Marxist thesis. Instead of representing the capitalist division of labor to ourselves as what founds or institutes human societies as relatively stable ‘collectivities’, should we not conceive this as what destroys them?... If this is so, the history of social formations would be not so much a history of non-commodity communities making the transition to market society or a society of generalized exchange (including the exchange of human labor-power) - the liberal or sociological representation which has been preserved in Marxism - as a history of the reactions of the complex of ‘non-economic’ social relations, which are the binding agent of a historical collectivity of individuals, to the de-structuring with which the expansion of the value form threatens them. It is these reactions which confer upon social history an aspect that is irreducible to the simple ‘logic’ of the extended reproduction of capital or even to a ‘strategic game’ among actors defined by the division of labor and the system of states.”

Insofar that class struggle has a primacy over classes, the structure of a mode of production is constituted by the antagonisms it contains, notably the systemic contradiction between the forces and relations of production, and the contradiction internal to the relations of production between exploiters and exploited i.e. social conflicts between classes generated by antagonistic relations of production. If we extrapolate from our understanding of capitalism’s origins as one unified not by the uniformity of its components, but through their contradiction, inconsistency, and incommensurability, we are given the following general statement about the motion of history: history is not the working out of some plan imprinted in the nature/essence of humans. It is the result of the struggles between different and opposed classes. These struggles are structurally conditioned, but history leaves their result open. There is no natural necessity which decides which class will be victorious.

Understanding Capitalist Society

As in the origins of capitalism, the workings of a capitalist society are also deeply cut by the friction and tensions of class struggle. Following the schema developed by Karl Marx in his book “A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy”, we can say that a capitalist society is made up of the economic “base” and the ideological “superstructure”. It needs to be emphasized that the base-superstructure metaphor is only a heuristic device; the division of capitalist society into these two segments is only present at the analytical level. In reality, base and superstructure are inseparably intertwined; one can’t be conceptualized without the other. Can capitalism’s predatory mechanisms of exploitation survive in the absence of specific ideological codes that make human subjects accept that exploitation as being in the “nature of things”? The answer is in the negative.

The inextricable intertwinement of base and superstructure was also stressed by Marx through the conceptualization of the economy as an essentially social and historical entity, the unity of the social relations of production and the productive forces, rather than that of the technological conditions of material production. Thus, in Capital, Volume I, Marx shows how the technological development of the productive forces, rather than providing the motor for the growth of capitalism was a result of the emergence of capitalist social relations of production. The inter-imbricatedness of base and superstructure means that capitalist society is a complex totality comprising various relatively autonomous yet interrelated structural instances. The economy (which is ultimately determinant) exercises its effects indirectly, by determining the specific efficacy of other instances.

Insofar that the political and ideological instances are relatively autonomous from the economy, the formative influence exercised by the functional requirements of reproduction is neither simple nor unilateral; it is mediated by the complex, uneven and contradictory logic of the class struggle. Therefore, what we define as “structures”, namely relations that tend to be reproduced, materialized and interiorized, are also internally contradictory because of the effectivity of class antagonism and antagonistic social relations. In other words, the state and various politico-ideological apparatuses used for the reproduction of capitalism are “fields” (to use Pierre Bourdieu’s term) of conflicts. In a field, agents and institutions constantly struggle, according to the regularities constitutive of this space. Those who dominate in a given field are in a position to make it function to their advantage, but they must always contend with the resistance and contentions of the dominated.

From what we have discussed so far, it is evident that a capitalist society is a social formation of conflicting, differential, and multilayered forces constantly in flux. Furthermore, the structure of society is immanent within that uneven balance of forces, rather than transcendent on them. There are no guarantees about any practice or variation in the formation. Changes in social formations over time develop unevenly through these forces, the movements of all the combined practices and articulations of practices. Rather than a transcendent or mechanical structure imposed upon individuals and groups, the social structure in this case is tightly contained within the practices individuals and groups enact. The structure emerges. There is thus no teleogy or supervening subject in history. This view of immanent change is opposed to an understanding of capitalist society as an “expressive totality”, which involves treating the different aspects of social life as expressions of some core or basic principle. The effect is reductionism: these different aspects possess no life and movement of their own, but merely exist as indices of their underlying essence.

Marx was in favor of an immanentist theory of change. In Vol. 3 of Capital, Marx wrote: “[in] the division of…social labour and the reciprocal complementarity or metabolism of its products, subjugation to and insertion into the social mechanism, is left to the accidental and reciprocally countervailing motives of the individual capitalist producers. Since these confront one another only as commodity owners, each trying to sell his commodity as dear as possible (and seeming to be governed only by caprice even in the regulation of production), the inner law operates only by way of their competition, their reciprocal pressure on one another, which is how divergences are mutually counterbalanced. It is only as an inner law, a blind natural force vis-à-vis the individual agents, that the law of value operates here and that the social balance of production is asserted in the midst of accidental fluctuations.” Here, we can observe that structural patterns emerge not because of external regulation or command but as the result of the operation of an inner law - an immanent process. General trends, historical tendencies and regularities are not solid, law-like phenomena; they are constituted and reproduced by the daily activities of human beings. Capitalism perpetuates its existence not due to self-sustaining structures but due to the contradictory unity of myriad class-rooted practices performed by living individuals.

Reclaiming Hope

Our discussion of the origins of capitalism and nature of capitalist society should make it clear that (1) capitalism is a historically specific totality, a result of class struggle; (2) a capitalist society is a structured whole consisting of the economic base and other quasi-autonomous yet interrelated levels, with the interaction between these elements generating the matrix of the social formation. The interaction is made possible by acting individuals who reproduce structures through recursive social practices. Both these conclusions are situated in a common problematic: they emphasize the fact that history is ultimately made by individuals.

The material determinations of hope derive from this fundamental fact. Since individuals create their own history, structures can’t be considered as unsurpassable obstacles. Structures are themselves the result of social practices. To overcome structures, critical consciousness needs to be combined with revolutionary action; the glue binding them together is hope. In the current conjuncture, hope needs to be reclaimed so that the struggle to achieve socialism can be revitalized. Once this is done, the political praxis of the Left will gain the ability to appropriately problematize our structural conditionedness and pierce through the open-ended nature of history.

Reviving the Brazilian and Bolivian Left

By Yanis Iqbal

Left-wing politics has experienced a stratospheric decline in Brazil and Bolivia. In Brazil, the democratically elected president of Worker’s Party (PT) was ousted through a parliamentary coup in 2016. After this, a right-wing extremist named Jair Bolsonaro has assumed the presidency and has mercilessly blemished the healthcare through his bluff and bluster. This has led to more than 200,000 cases, 15,000 deaths and already 2 health ministers have resigned due to Bolsonaro’s adamant insistence on the use of hydroxychloroquine. Similarly, Bolivia has also seen the ouster of Evo Morales in November, 2019 through a rightist-military orchestrated coup which has led to the appointment of Jeanine Anez as the president who is an ardent catholic and racist. Anez has unleashed the “Bolsonarofication of Bolivia” in the Covid-19 crisis which has caused the erosion of the Unified Health System, the banishment of Cuban doctors and the reduction of myriad health and cash transfer programs.

The dramatic deterioration of the left in both the countries is causing an unprecedented damage to the people living in these countries. With the astronomic rise of the right-wing bloc, full-fledged neoliberalism has again dug its fiendish claws in the flesh of Brazil and Bolivia. A catastrophic situation like this necessitates the re-establishment of a new left-wing politics that is capable of waging a counter-war against the overtly barbarous and crudely capitalist right-wing camp. For this to happen, we need to critically analyze the previous structure of leftist governments and highlight its weaknesses and pro-corporate proclivities so that a truly revolutionary architecture can be built.

Throughout their existence as a prominent political-electoral force, the Brazilian and Bolivian left have been characterized by a neo-developmentalist statist agenda. This type of political project is foundationally a reformist program which fundamentally aims to reconcile antagonistic classes through the conquest of the state.

 The discursive construction of non-antagonistic class relations in a reformist leftist politics is regulated through the use of the state. State starts serving as the site of class unity where irreconcilable demands are negotiated and an unstable equilibrium is maintained through the concessions which the bourgeoisie is willing to grant to the working class. These class compromises are made to co-opt the working class into the restricted rationality of neoliberalism. The bourgeoisie not only co-opts the working class but also reformulates their demands through new anti-revolutionary perspectives and creates the intelligible terrain on which economic-political demands are made. Through the assimilation and reformulation of anti-capitalist forces, a polyclassist pact is produced which is presented by the state as a “revolutionary measure”. Therefore, the definitive role of the state in a neo-developmentalist system consists in its ability to cooperate with the capitalists and to set up itself as the mediating agent in the class struggle between the proletariat and the bourgeoisie.  

Due to its status as a moderator of class struggle, the state has to follow the rules of the global market and has to repeatedly constrict the social movements when they cross the thresholds defined by neoliberalism. Along with constriction, the state also enables a market ideology by generating a consumerist culture and encouraging possessive individualism. In this process of constriction and enablement, we need to highlight two important tactics.

(1) The first tactic of neo-developmentalist state refers to its attempts to help in the proliferation of a market-centric ideology through amorphous political lexicon. For example, the Brazilian state under the PT administration was increasingly adopting a class-insensitive political system by lumping together the working class in the category of the “poor”. This was done indiscriminately in the 2010 election campaign of Dilma Rousseff in which she was presented as the “mother of the poor”. Notions like these facilitated the erasure of the class combativeness of the working class by interpellating them as “impotent individuals” who could be rescued by the welfare policies of state. Along with the introduction of the category of the poor, the Brazilian state also added a consumerist tinge to its programme of fragmenting the working class. In a video released by PT in 2013, it was said that “college education, vacations, air travel, a home, a car, meat on the table and shopping are today a right for all”. The depiction of poverty reduction in terms of different possessions surreptitiously inserts a market logic in which economic status is measured in terms of access to specific goods and not on the basis of the ownership of means of production. The Worker’s Party has partly replaced the concept of the poor with the equally amorphous concept of nation and in a statement given by it in 2017, it said that “our experiences and formulations are not the property of the Worker’s Party; they belong to the heritage of the Brazilian people”.  This statement reflects the hesitance of PT to combatively confront the bourgeoisie of Brazil.

(2) The second tactic involves the direct efforts of the neo-developmentalist state to subvert class-based social movements. In this aspect, Bolivia serves as a paradigmatic example. In the December 2005 elections, Evo Morales had secured a majority with 54% of the votes and decided to build a constituent assembly which would encapsulate the popular will of the suppressed and indigenous people. Surprisingly, in September 2006, MAS (Movement Towards Socialism), the party to which Evo Morales belongs, decided that social movements could not send their representatives to the constituent assembly and only political organizations were allowed to do so. This decision was momentous because it came during the time of an aggressive class war in which the capitalists of the Media Luna (Half Moon) of the eastern lowlands, who owned the oil and gas industry, were belligerently trying to weaken the strength of the indigenist-leftist bloc by capturing state power. Therefore, the decision to debar social movements from joining the constituent assembly implicitly indicated the capitalistic tendencies within the Morales government. But this decision soon had to be revoked in April 2009 due to the opposition presented to it by the social movements.

Through the two statist tactics of constriction and active facilitation, the Brazilian and Bolivian states were able to contain the radicality of left-wing politics. By pursuing a regressively reformist policy stance, a newfangled marketized-welfare state was created which embroidered the unvarnished mechanism of capitalism with a left-progressive ideology. For example, Brazil was able to utilize the commodity boom of the 2000s to institute some welfare policies like the Bolsa Familia which benefitted 12 million families. There was also a 50% increase in the minimum wages and higher education was also made accessible. Along with the instauration of these programmes, there was also the concealed and simultaneous reprimarization of economy and the enhancement of a neo-extractive, agro-export economic infrastructure. This was the result of the supposed global market integration of Brazil which increased the economic dependency of Brazil on other countries. Brazil, under PT, also witnessed the construction of new dams such as the Belo Monte dam, Madeira river dams and 4 dams on the Teles Pires River. The increasingly export-oriented, environmentally damaging and extractive economy of Brazil was also obscured by the “democratization drive” in which participatory institutions such as the Participatory Budgeting (PB) was introduced. These democratic platforms actually professionalized the civil society, statified resistance movements and only allowed for “friendly dialogue” rather than serious power sharing.

A similar situation was seen in Bolivia during the question of oil nationalization. During the politically turbulent time in which the question of the nationalization of oil was gaining prominence, Morales had temporarily adopted a centrist position in which he supported Carlos Mesa’s soft-neoliberal decision to raise the level of royalties paid by oil corporations. But the adverse effects of this diluted neoliberal position were clearly shown by the mere 18% percent of vote which MAS garnered in the 2004 Municipal Elections. Morales had to reverse his position due to this electoral setback and in 2006 he announced the nationalization of Bolivia’s oil. This nationalization too was not complete because it did not expropriate these companies but increased the stakes of the state and raised the royalties and taxes. An incomplete Nationalization of oil was not the only measure which contradicted the post-neoliberalism of Bolivia. The presence of Chinese and Japanese mining companies on the salt flats of Altiplano, the increase in foreign direct investment from 278 million dollars in 2006 to 1.18 billion dollars in 2013 also questioned the growing economic independence of Bolivia.  But due to the commodity boom between 2006 and 2014, Morales’s Bolivia was able to increase its revenues and alleviate poverty from 64% of the population in 2002 to 36.3% in 2011. Extreme poverty too was reduced to approximately 17%. This compensated for its capitalistic economic edifice which remained intact despite these progressive measures.

Due to an unstable compromise which the Bolivian and Brazilian governments had to maintain between the bourgeoisie and working class, there emerged certain cracks in the thinly veiled capitalism of both these countries. In 2015, Brazil saw the neoliberal re-adjustment of the economy in which unemployment rose by 38%, extreme poverty increased from 7.9% to 9.2% and there was 4.6% increase in self-employed workers, signifying the informalization of labor. These measures were enacted due to the decline in the windfall from the commodity boom which the Lula administration had utilized by exporting some major commodities to China such as iron ore, raw sugar and soybeans. But now the Dilma government had to mould its economy according to the rules of the global market which was experiencing a contraction. Bolivia too saw the emergence of economic – political fissures in which the Morales government started diluting and de-intensifying its revolutionary proclamations. From 2006 to 2013, the percentage of primary product exports as a share of total exports increased from 89.4% to 96%. This denotes the extractivist economic structure of Bolivia in which soybean production has increasingly assumed a major role. In Santa Cruz, large landowners and soy producers represent only 2% of the farm units but own more than 70% of land. Land ownership concentration is not only restricted to Santa Cruz but is rather the integral part of Bolivian economy in which the soy complex is the most prominent. In the capitalist circuit of soy complex, agro-chemicals and machineries are imported and these are then distributed to the agribusiness oligarchy of Bolivia which exacerbates the economic existence of small soybean producers by making soybean production a capital-intensive process.

Gradually, the fissures of reformist capitalism started widening and these ultimately prepared the fertile ground for the growth of a fascistic right. The right was able to expand its social base by re-articulating the various weaknesses of the weakly socialist governments. In Bolivia, for example, the right highlighted the transition of Evo Morales from a Mallku and a supporter of cabildo abiertos (open councils) to a caudillo or strongman. By portraying Evo Morales and his socio-economic system as authoritarian, the right paved the way for an extra-institutional paradigm of mobilization which used the idiom of leftist mass-based activism to unleash violence. Brazilian right also reaped the growing discontent of the masses and this was most visible when Jair Bolsonaro was touting himself as an anti-system presidential candidate who could change everything. This anti-system position then metamorphosed into an anti-democratic agenda which countered the meek reformism of the neo-developmentalist left with cultural-symbolic combativeness.

The unpropitious circumstances in Brazil and Bolivia are politically incapacitating the left. It seems that the left-wing camp in both these countries is still not adopting a new strategy and wants to rehash its hackneyed program of weak socialism. But it should now acknowledge that its dime-store developmentalism and unimaginative cesspool of socialist state conquest is based upon a fundamental misreading of Marxism. The Bolivian and Brazilian left apprehended the state as a pivotal instrument in the entire power project of leftism and ignored what Karl Marx and Vladimir Lenin had said. In Communist Manifesto, Karl Marx had said that the state is the “committee for managing the common affairs of the whole bourgeoisie”. Similarly, Lenin had said that bourgeoisie state, “whatever their form, in the final analysis are inevitably the dictatorship of the bourgeoisie”. Bolivian and Brazilian leftists made their first fundamental mistake by misunderstanding the state as a universal apparatus which could guarantee the peaceful living of all the people. By universalizing the state and understanding it as an arbitrator above the class relations, the Bolivian and Brazilian left got ensnared in the vortex of bourgeoisie ideology which obviates the emergence of the dictatorship of the proletariat. Dictatorship of the proletariat is of utmost necessity because it involves the exterior dictatorialization of the bourgeoisie and the internal democratization of the organization of living. This internal democratization is diametrically opposed to the democratic drivel of the capitalism which is restricted to formal parliamentarianism and is fearful of genuine mass based activism. Therefore, the Brazilian and Bolivian left has to undauntingly espouse the strategy of the dictatorship of the proletariat which alone can guarantee the complete annihilation of the bourgeoisie cultural-legal state apparatus and its replacement by a new revolutionary state which in unwilling to make invisibilize class struggle.

The second mistake made by the Brazilian and Bolivian state follows from the first one. By not smashing the old state apparatus and refusing to support the dictatorship of the proletariat, the Brazilian and Bolivian state discarded the concept of communism and substituted it with socialism. Dictatorship of the proletariat is only present during the phase of socialism which Lenin defined eloquently as “a period of struggle between dying capitalism and nascent communism”. In this situation of socialism, the socialist state has to establish itself and the dictatorship of the proletariat with the objective of constantly decentralizing its power and always working towards the goal of communism or classless society. But the Bolivian and Brazilian states did not regard socialism as a goal towards communism but as a destination in-itself. Due to the erasure of communism, both the states instituted socialism not as a contradictory and tensional period of continuous class struggle in which the state is present to empower grassroots movement, but as a period of “class collaboration” in which different classes live as unified individuals under the state authority. This entrenchment of class collaboration is quite similar to the idea of the 1936 Soviet constitution in which Stalin had anointed Soviet Union as the “State of the whole people”. Brazilian and Bolivian left can navigate their way through their Stalinist embroilment by reinstating communism as the primary objective and seeing socialism as a period of intense class struggle and devolution of power.

The two remedial measures mentioned above can greatly facilitate the construction of a new revolutionary strategy which is politically potent and economically exhaustive. These stratagems can be crafted only if the reformist left of Bolivia and Brazil admits that there is no alternative to class struggle and produces a cohesive communist campaign which openly opposes the peremptory pronouncements of neoliberalism.

What Should the Left Do Now? Study.

By J.E. Karla

Everyone on the left is asking what we should be doing right now, but nobody wants to hear that we ought to be studying more. That’s tough, because strategic collective study is always one of the most valuable things we can do with our time — if it’s done right. It is a clear, concrete project that can generate real victories quicker than you might think. 

Why Study?

Can we discern how and why capitalism is a bad thing, or are its wrongdoings random and mysterious? If it is a mystery, and we can’t understand it or change it — then we can’t be revolutionaries. 

If, on the other hand, capitalism operates in understandable ways, then we could — in theory — disrupt it. In that case we need to know the system’s history, its predictable trajectories, and what has worked — and not worked — in stopping or slowing it down before. Blowing that off in the name of “pragmatism” would be like going to a dentist who thinks their high school shop class taught them everything they need to know about drilling your teeth. 

To put it another way, we can either study theory or continue to be the victim of forces we choose not to understand. 

When Should We Study?

Check out this video about Naxalite guerillas in India. See what happens at 5:30 — these comrades from one of the poorest places on the planet, with very little formal education, find the time to read Marx, Lenin, Stalin, and Mao. We should fight back against any liberal notion that poor people aren’t smart enough to study theory — workers, peasants, prisoners, and the poor have done this study for centuries now. 

One of the best guidelines revolutionaries have discovered over all those years: prioritize study following any significant defeat. 

Mao developed the theories that led to China’s liberation during and after the Long March, Lenin cracked the code of proletarian revolution while in exile, Marx and Engels spent their lives exploring the failures of the 1848 revolutions and then the Paris Commune. The US left has not had a meaningful victory in decades, and huge swaths of us got hoodwinked by the Democratic Party — again. This is the time to dig in and see what we missed, and to make sure we stop making the same mistakes over and over. 

How to Study 

First, study collectively. Communist study is not an academic exercise, it is a preparation for action. The group you study with is a ready-made nucleus for organizing. Also, studying by yourself makes it more likely that you will persist in error — the more minds you bring together, the less likely you are to end up thinking things that make organizing harder. 

Second, make accountability your highest priority. Collective study makes it easier to get through tough material, but it only works if everyone does their part. The words “I didn’t finish the reading but…” should be anathema in your study group. Help people that start falling behind, but If you don’t have the discipline to read a book, how will you ever make it through a revolution? 

Third, focus on the theorists whose ideas won. Yes, capitalism is back in power pretty much everywhere, but the Russan nobility and bourgeoisie Lenin and Stalin defeated or the Chinese comprador class destroyed by Mao did not come back — they don’t exist anymore. That’s more than any of their anti-communist critics can claim, and if we aim to defeat capitalism we should learn what's worked and what hasn’t. 

All of them were inspired by Engels, so try this. Message five trusted comrades right now and find a night you all have free three weeks from today. Send them this link and congratulations — you’ve organized a communist political project. If you need to break it up into a few sessions, that’s okay. Balancing capacity and the work that needs to be done is called strategy, and it’s how we’ll win.

Finally, remember that our study should never be aimless. Each session needs a facilitator to guide the discussion towards the most important questions of all: how does this help us understand our own conditions, and what does it suggest about possible ways to change them? Follow the study and the discussion into action, then consolidate what you learn in documents the rest of us can read. Repeat until we’ve smashed the state. 

This is How We Win

Bernie Sanders signed up one million volunteers. Imagine if 10 percent of them gave up on bourgeois politics and made revolution a real priority. 100,000 new communists could form 10,000 to 15,000 study circles, each of them sharpening their understanding of capitalism into real political weapons. 

They could go into thousands of communities and use their knowledge to organize the disorganized, to help proletarian people fight for themselves. Imagine if they shared their discoveries with one another, and through collaboration and debate created a growing, thoughtful, strategic communist movement in the heart of imperialism. Imagine if the capitalist state deepens its current crisis at the same time.

The outcomes would be unpredictable, but one becomes a real possibility: revolution. Without study, that is impossible, which is all the reason we need to focus on organized, collective study right now. There’s nothing more pragmatic we could possibly do.

Here We Go Again: Socialists, Democrats, and the Future of the Left

By Charles Wofford

In his article "Want to Elect Socialists? Run Them in Democratic Primaries," Daniel Moraff, a self-described democratic socialist, demonstrates a thoroughly liberal and pedestrian understanding of how social change occurs. There are several errors of history and of reasoning in the article which I hope to illustrate here.

Our problems begin in the first paragraph, where Moraff conflates "winning elections" and "building power." As a socialist, one would think Moraff would understand that power is in the People, in the mass movements and organization that takes place in communities by and for community members. The People provide the labor and do the dirty work upon which the political class maintains its privilege. If the People get angry and decide in sufficient number not to participate in the system anymore, then the basis of political privilege will teeter and possibly collapse, and those in power would generally rather give up what's been demanded of them rather than lose their power entirely.

In the second section Moraff references Kim Moody's article in Jacobin magazine titled, "From Realignment to Reinforcement." Moraff writes, "One cannot argue with Moody's contention that those currently in control of the party are rich, powerful and odious. They are also, as Moody points out, firmly determined to repel left challenges within the party. These same interests poured millions into the Hillary Clinton campaign, and pour millions more into incumbency protection every cycle." Moraff misses however the part where Moody says, "The party structure and establishment has been fortified against its rivals, external and internal." Moody is correct; the party structure has been fortified against its rivals. Moraff falls into an individualist fallacy when he argues that it is simply about "odious" people, as though we can simply replace the people and the whole system will work. A socialist ought to know better.

If it were merely about corrupt people, then we wouldn't need to be anti-capitalist at all. All we would need is to make sure "progressives" got into political an corporate offices. Then we could have total, unfettered capitalism, and because those with power aren't "odious," we wouldn't need to worry about exploitation, environmental destruction, war, etc.

Some basic Marxist philosophy can help to clarify the point. In "The German Ideology," Marx writes, "The way in which men produce their means of subsistence depends first of all on the nature of the actual means they find in existence and have to reproduce...the nature of individuals thus depends on the material conditions determining their production." In other words, people are born into their circumstances, not the other way around. The structures in which people live and work have greater influence on who they are as individuals than vice versa. So we cannot simply pin the problems of the Democratic Party on the "odiousness" of its leaders. Just as we condemn capitalism as a system, so must we recognize the Democratic party is part of that system which must be condemned.

Moraff asks throughout his article what alternatives there can be to running socialists as democrats. If you assume that winning elections is the same as building power (or the only way to do so) then it's hard to see an answer. But here are a few examples of progressive change in recent American history that I think illustrate the distinction between being in office and having power.

The first is the signing of the 1965 Civil Rights Act by President Lyndon Johnson. President Johnson did not sign that bill into law because he was a benevolent philanthropist and really felt for the struggle of colored folk. Remember, this was the president who escalated the Vietnam War into the hideous conflict it became. Descriptions of him by those who knew him and extant audio recordings show Johnson to be possibly the most arrogant president in American history. Yet he signed the Civil Rights Act into law. Why?

Because one of the main functions of the president is to preserve the nation. And as the demonstrations, boycotts, riots, strikes, and other forms of disobedience and popular organization and resistance began to take their toll on society, the power-that-were recognized the precariousness of the situation. The bottom was coming for the top, and the top had to do something. And, as stated above, those in power would sooner give up a little bit of their power than lose all of it. So in the end Johnson, as a representative of the power-that-were, was compelled to sign that act into law by virtue of the mass popular pressure applied to him.

A second example is Richard Nixon ending the Vietnam War. Anyone who thinks that Nixon was some peace-loving progressive has never opened a history book: Nixon's name is practically synonymous with the warmongering arch-conservative. Yet he ended the Vietnam War. Why?

Exactly the same reasons as above: the resistance at home, and the resistance of the military in Vietnam which was starting to collapse. Nixon, despite his personal wishes, was compelled to end the war because of the popular pressures placed on his administration and his duty-as defined by the structure of the institution-to preserve the nation.

Those are two recent examples, but that is how social change always happens. If we continue to divert our energies into the black hole that is the Democratic Party, then socialism will never come. You cannot elect socialism: it can only come about through a revolution that will overturn the legal fiction of private property, the protection of which the U.S. government is constitutionally predicated.

The lesson is this: We need not look to the powerful; we need only remember who the powerful truly are.

The Democratic Socialists of America seems to serve two functions: one is to be a kind of transition group for those who are gradually disconnecting from liberal ideology. The other is to act as a net to catch those who might otherwise go to actual radical organizations. There are DSAers who support democrats, and there are radicals in the DSA too. But sooner or later the DSA as an organization is going to have to choose which side it is on: the capitalists, or the revolutionaries.

Donald Trump and the Future: Where Are We Going and What Can Be Done?

By John Ripton

The victory of Donald J. Trump marks a challenging moment in the transition from fossil-fuel driven economy to sustainable energy resources. The transition to cleaner power began to take shape at the end of the last century, coinciding with gathering international scientific consensus on climate change at the Earth Rio sustainable development conference in 1992. The neoliberal agenda of international "free trade" agreements propelled by the Clinton administration, while perhaps not intended, set in motion extensive global investment that has placed greater pressure on resources and increased carbon in the atmosphere, among other environmental concerns. At the same time as scientific research demonstrated that human activity since the Industrial Revolution of the early 19th century was affecting global warming, the neoliberal "free trade" initiatives led by the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) have allowed some of the largest U.S. corporations to ignore critical environmental concerns.

The scientific reports on global warming gave impetus to new initiatives in cleaner energy production. Free trade agreements pushed toward lowering trade barriers in the interest of increasing economic growth. These two developments reflected the historical dichotomy in the perception of government's responsibility and role in the United States. Lowered trade barriers have had the effect of permitting the most well-heeled transnational corporations in finance and production to shore up their investments in traditional technologies, especially fossil fuels. To defend this position in the face of growing scientific consensus that human activity has contributed to the Earth's warming trend over the last two centuries, private interests funded "science" that would, in effect, cast doubt - or simply deny - human impact on global warming and climate change. Together, these two developments are the critical political battle ground of the 21st century. The future of the planet and humanity, moreover, are literally at stake.

The November 2016 election to the U.S. presidency of a self-professed billionaire of patently unscrupulous character and business history has turned heads all over the world. In part, it signals that the U.S. transnational corporate class wants to manage the inevitable transition to cleaner energy through dismantling important environmental gains and opening the flood gates for investments already made in future exploitation of fragile ecosystems to profit from fossil fuel production, especially oil and gas. This is likely to have two devastating consequences: slowing down the conversion to cleaner energy alternatives is one perilous result. The other is allowing fossil fuel giants to take advantage of the greater profits yet to be made in producing and consuming fossil fuels in order to gain capital advantage and establish a preponderant investment foothold in the inevitable development of cleaner energy and its distribution.

Either way it is bad news for the quality of the global environment today and into the foreseeable future. Putting off reform of the capitalist economic regime will further degrade the global ecosystem and weaken the efficacy of green technology as disastrous ecological consequences outpace it. Continuing to pump vast amounts of carbon into the atmosphere, even in the short run, can only increase the warming of the planet. Global warming now threatens to break up the Antarctica's glacial covering, contributing to rising ocean levels that will devastate island and coastal communities across the world. Perhaps even more alarming (if possible) is the thawing of the northern tundra that will release massive amounts of carbon into the atmosphere, likely advancing atmospheric feedback loops that may well speed up climate change. These developments will put our species and other fauna and flora species into greater climate jeopardy than already being experienced. Calamitous ecological events, moreover, will cost public and private treasuries enormously as they scramble to mitigate rising tolls in human deaths and suffering.

The Trump election also runs contrary to the professed democratic principles undergirding U.S. republican government. How could a country so advanced economically and scientifically, a country of such tremendous affluence and global presence, a people of democratic will, elect an anti-democratic, authoritarian megalomaniac to the U.S. presidency? Unfortunately the answer is largely due to the same forces that resist the immediate need for a fast-track conversion to cleaner energy sources. The commanding position in global finance, commerce and culture the U.S. has had over the last century has masked some of its greatest vulnerabilities. The most obvious vulnerability is that capitalism - by its need for constant growth in profits and exploitation of natural and human resources - is simply unsustainable. The skewing wealth curve testifies to this. If it were sustainable, significant portions of profits would be used by governments to meet the very real needs of people, here and abroad.

Trump's election threatens to degrade the morale of the United States' citizenry as well. He won enough electoral votes because his supporters, critically in the post-industrial states of the MidWest, believe that business moguls know how to create jobs. Trump's pressure on individual firms may deliver some jobs, but they are likely to be in unsustainable industries, such as industries dependent on fossil fuels. It is doubtful that he will do little to counter the effects of so-called "dark money" hidden from public view (remember he has not released his own tax return) or slow down time-saving automation that structures workers out of the workplace without alternative training and support. Key nominations such as the Labor Department Secretary (Andrew Puzder) and Commerce Department Secretary (Wilbur Ross) are even against the existence of a minimum wage. The corporate class - while many in that class may not admit that they supported Trump's bid for the presidency - nevertheless understands that it will benefit disproportionately from a Trump presidency. Climate change, ethics and morality aside, Trump's policy direction is good business in the minds of CEOs in the financial world.

Stock markets responded favorably to Trump's nomination of the former CEO of Exxon-Mobile (Rex Tillerson) as U.S. Secretary of State. Despite widespread popular rejection of Trump's political ideas, business representatives across industries quickly covered his back. If Trump is willing to negotiate tax and regulatory issues, the future of corporate profits looks rosy. If Trump's election fuels unsustainable growth and profits, as is predicted, then industry and commerce will be in a better short-term position to hedge against un-sustainability by acquiring stock in "greener" technologies.

This historical transition is fraught with unprecedented perilous challenges. Modern civilization is critically close to breaking down. The real challenge to our survival as a species is managing our global economic reorganization. This means that regulations need to be placed on corporations, not abandoned. Such wide-scale national economic reorganization requires public support. Only popular democratic pressure will tip the political scale toward a brighter future, jump-starting the transition from classic liberal economic thinking to genuine reform guided by humane principles and environmental consciousness. This transition can be jump-started for the welfare of the U.S. public and people across the world who look to the U.S. for such leadership. Though Trump's election has given private transnational corporations - at least as seen in Trump's rhetoric and nominations - the upper-hand in driving U.S. public policy in the immediate months and years, the need for social justice and economic sustainability will become more stark as raw capitalist motives push the world closer to conflict and degradation.

From the first urban cultures in the Fertile Crescent some eight centuries ago, the economic engines that drive civilizations have pushed humans into environmental and social crises. Some civilizations, certainly, were swept into dust by catastrophic geologic, atmospheric and astronomical events. Far more often their demise is open to question as scientific investigation in many fields reveals the complexity of social and environmental relationships. Academic and public debate continues, as it should.

But we do presently know that exploitation and degradation of natural resources often played a role in the decline of past civilizations. At least as importantly, we have known since the beginning of urban culture and record-keeping that civilizations generally have been ill-prepared for dramatic change, environmental or social. Preparation for managing the global economic reorganization without further imperiling the nation and the world requires progressives and leftists to offer the social vision and the specific agenda to mobilize society in the redesign of its productive capabilities and consumption patterns.

Capitalism - born two centuries ago - must be dramatically reformed. Public policies must push the needed reforms forward. The largest and most aggressive capitalists are well aware of how an informed and engaged U.S. public can overwhelm their recalcitrant concerns for private gain. The tough question the opponents of change face is: Can capital interests contain the broad public skepticism of its political institutions long enough to avoid the inevitable crash of a global economic system incapable of transforming itself in sustainable ways. Cynics and pessimists argue that capitalism has already caused devastating climate developments that spell doom for future generations. They seem to believe that they should profit from the capitalist system before it breaks down. Perhaps cynical millionaires and billionaires think that their wealth will enable them and their families to survive the coming global social and environmental turbulence. Whatever their motives, their regressive investment strategies stand in the way of a transition to more sustainable economic organization.

What is the basis of the logic that the corporate class uses to deter the needed economic changes? If there is a shared political motive among capital interests rallying since Donald Trump's election, Milton Friedman outlined it in his 1962 landmark book Capitalism and Freedom. Friedman's emphases on the "free market," deregulation across private industry and monetary management of the economy influenced the so-called "free trade" or neoliberal policies growing from the Reagan presidency. In the Clinton administration it "free trade" was fully embraced and a major deregulation of banking (repeal of the Glass-Steagall Act that separated commercial banking from investment banking), ramping up the global economy and fueling broad financial speculation and its attendant instability. Donald Trump is using his election to the U.S. presidency as a means to apply Friedman ideas through nominations of global and national business tycoons in fossil fuels, anti-labor corporate leaders and climate change deniers. If we scrutinize these early and most significant cabinet and presidential advisory nominations, its is quite clear that Trump plans to lead the U.S. corporate community in the direction of market deregulation and rising profits by essentially regarding his election as a conservative corporate coup.

Canadian author and activist Naomi Klein (educated at the London School of Economics) characterized Milton Friedman's ideas as they have been applied in various parts of the developing world as the "shock doctrine" ( The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism - 2007). Klein documents Friedman's plan for economic prosperity as it was instituted under Chile's Pinochet regime in the 1970s. Some economic growth was achieved but it proved a disaster for political freedom and local environments. In the meantime, foreign corporations were given greater latitude of investment in Chile and the military ensured that political dissenters were jailed or executed. It took more than a decade to find a way out from under the dictatorial regime. According to Milton Friedman's convictions that economic freedom nurtures political liberties, this shouldn't have happened. At the time of Pinochet's takeover and the wholesale imposition of market deregulation and monetary management - i.e. the 1970s - Chile was considered the most democratic of Latin American governments, with a long history of peaceful political transition as well as having the greatest percentage of its citizens in the middle class than anywhere else in Latin America.

The Friedman formula in Chile led to deadly repression in the name of law and order. It also used obfuscation and lies to dismiss its critics and pursue its nefarious goals. Some scholars argue that similar motives and disinformation appeared in the United States in the wake of the destruction of World Trade Center in 2001. The Patriot Act and, most particularly, the deliberate misleading of the public on Iraq's alleged weapons of mass destruction facilitated the invasion of Iraq and the privatization of its oil holdings under U.S. corporate management. The neoconservatives supporting this strategy, vice-president Dick Cheney most prominent among them, viewed the disintegration of the Soviet Union as an opportunity for the U.S. to advance its economic and political interests throughout the world. The invasion of Iraq set neoconservative political and economic objectives on course. Principal among these objectives was the privatization of Iraq's oil potential and pursuit of a geopolitical strategy in concert with U.S. corporate agenda.

Later in the first two decades of this century, another corporate coup arranged the bailout of financial and other investment institutions. After banking deregulation signed by Bill Clinton, Wall Street financial management put the public interest and the global economy in grave risk through phony stock instruments, irresponsible hedging strategies and heavy speculation. Pension funds, municipal governments, whole nations and a large swath of middle class homeowners in the U.S. were led into these disingenuous investment schemes. Ultimately the public had to bailout the financial industry. As the government did so under the management of presidential appointees drawn from Wall Street, corporate strength in the financial industry became more consolidated. This is part of the reason so much wealth flows to so few; that the middle class lost a third of its wealth in the Great Depression; and that many - in a country with the largest GNP in the world - continue to live at the edge of or in poverty. These are the practical results in the United States (and the world) of Nobel Laureate Milton Friedman's economic designs.

Wealth flows skewed in favor of the corporate class are only the beginning of a last ditch effort by corporations to profit and forestall inevitable reform of capitalism. Under a Trump presidency corporations stand to gain freedom from decades of regulations and social programs - inadequate as many were - that were instituted in the public interest: clean air and water standards, labor protections, voting rights, expansion of other civil rights, social security, health care, just to name a few examples. Trump's nominations to his cabinet and his closest advisors are millionaires and billionaires with backgrounds in business. They are ideologues who benefit from the popular consensus that capitalism is good for the nation. What was once good is not always good, perhaps a philosopher might have said. History charts its own paths for sure, but we can learn from where we have been as a species. It helps us to make the necessary reforms. But private corporate interests, especially those heavily invested in earlier generations of technologies, are not really interested in reform, at least not until they can convert their existing capital into profits in the newer technologies and industries.

Returning to the potential for global environmental collapse hastened by Trump's election as president, his nomination of reactionary political figures to high posts reflects a dedication to corporate growth and further environmental deterioration. One (Texas governor Rick Perry) who detests regulations of corporations will head of the Energy Department, if approved by the U.S. Senate. Another (Scott Pruitt) who doubts human activity contributes to climate change will be the leader of the Environmental Protection Agency. For Treasury Secretary Trump nominated Steve Mnuchin, an allegedly predatory finance-real estate mogul who was once a partner at Goldman Sachs. It is unlikely that Mnuchin, or the others, will advocate for government funding of greener energy initiatives.

While capitalist economic organization has been the most productive in the history of economic regimes, it has led to such concentration of wealth that it is presently a worldwide social liability. The acceptable extremes in social disparity have significantly expanded; actually the economic disparity of the last two decades has grown at the greatest pace in our nation's history. In the United States - history's most thoroughly capitalized society - institutions grudgingly accept change at best; usually they quickly justify the status quo and promote conservatism to one degree or another.

Here one needs to keep in mind the intellectual and institutional strength of liberal capitalism, the idea that the unfettered market sustains freedom, perhaps even gives birth to freedom. Its ideology fosters the notion that equal opportunity exists and that the institutions in a capitalist culture moderate change and peaceful transitions. Setting aside the unlikelihood that complete equality of opportunity could be established in a world where profits measures rule, it is easy to see that large capital interests have almost always sought "economic freedoms." The corollary to the expansion of corporate rights is the loss of popular political participation and social rights. Everyone, from the slums of Calcutta to the tony estates of South Hampton, knows that economic wealth generates political influence. At some point, when the bogus argument that it does not becomes frayed enough, people will be able to see this common equation.

Wealth concentration, as mentioned earlier, saps the public of its will and ability to manage the direction of the economy. Historically, wealth was already becoming concentrated as early as the early 19th century. The populism of Andrew Jackson in the 1830s emerged to slow down the growth of urban-based financial domination. Today similar divisions along geographic and class lines are even more entrenched from a national to a global scale. According to French economist Thomas Picketty in his 2014 critique of capitalism in the 21st century (Capital in the Twenty-First Century), this has been facilitated as profits have grown faster than gross domestic product (GNP) on a world scale. This is nowhere more fully documented than in the United States.

As a result, increasing amounts of money must be spent on commercialization, identity and branding. This development thrusts us into a future that we must carefully manage. Without a radical restructuring of our economic way of life our species is moving toward extinction. Also earlier asserted in this essay, the capitalist economic regime requires growth in economic extraction, production and consumption to sustain and justify its existence. At the same time, the increasing fragility of the planet and the predatory behavior of nativist populism for private gain will lead to opportunities to critique and ultimately re-engineer government at local, national and international levels. Moving toward extinction is the not the same as extinction. Now that we recognize that species extinction is possible it allows us opportunities to avoid it.

Yes, geological and biological events of the magnitude that lead to climate change reach a critical mass or an algorithmic convergence that disrupts the course of planetary evolution. It has happened many times in the geological record of the Earth, the most famous of which was likely of extra-terrestrial origin some 65 million years ago. This is generally thought to have ended the age of the dinosaurs, giving small mammals who subsisted on seeds the opportunity to evolve into the myriad species of animals, including humans, on the planet today.

Scientists now believe that climate change can happen more quickly than previously thought - perhaps in a matter of a few years or a decade of dramatic global environmental events. In the past humanity's great urban cultures and civilizations have encountered less extreme planetary changes but its social systems have nevertheless disintegrated or devolved into less complex ones when these challenges arose. This occurred at the end of the Roman imperial period when a series of droughts across Eurasia over a few centuries contributed to migrations of agrarian peoples outside and even inside the realm of Roman civilization. The center of the Roman civilization could not contain the forces unleashed by the environment and its social consequences.

All fallen economic regimes, furthermore, may have contributed in some way to the environmental changes that led to their own demise. These civilizations exploited too many natural resources and institutionalized so many forms of social injustice that the prevailing political economy could no longer contain the conflict of values and economic practice. The individual acquisitiveness of those in power and those who benefit from the wealth extracted from the natural environment and the labor of common working people simply overwhelmed the will of the privileged minority to do anything about the excesses and injustices. As these historical transitions unfolded into new economic organizations or regimes, the institutions of the old economic order rigidified and elites retreated to past arguments and measures to hold onto their privileges, just as they do today. The most privileged classes can almost always be expected to deploy every weapon at its disposal (e.g. propaganda, repression, even war) to maintain and even extend their privileges.

The thesis of this essay is that the old ideas of unfettered capitalism and liberal political and economic justifications of it have become obvious liabilities to the survival of the species and the planet as we know them. Intensified migrations, nationalism, nihilism, endemic war and fascist tendencies can only be mitigated by a social vision based on meeting human needs worldwide. Political tendencies will emerge from the fault lines of the present objectification and commodification of culture driven by capitalism. In addition to relying on political repression and threat of war to protect their interests, those in the corporate class will continue to employ identities of social construction (such as "race," nationality, ethnicity, religion, gender and other cultural expressions and institutions) to divide the majority and attract the public to its populist appeal.

In the United States the corporate elite - ushered in with the Trump victory - will pursue a military build-up and try to cement alliances among elite classes across nations to defeat the radicalized elements of the discontented masses. At first, only a very small minority of the masses will turn to millennial messages and movements, such as ISIS and other atavistic ideological campaigns have already done. But, as the privileged international elite target the "malcontents" with their considerable war machines, they will kill many innocent people. That war has been going on for some time, but a Trump presidency is likely to raise it to a dangerously high level. At a certain point - through a combination of failures to bring about just economic development and massive killings of innocent people - the elite will lose its moral standing.

As the moral moorings of the corporate elite strategy weaken, there will be multiple directions in which global society can move. It can become even more polarized, giving advantage to the elite to extend its privileges. Or a new paradigm can coalesce around the emerging blocks of people who reject the idea that just economic sustainability can be achieved only through market economies, trade wars and military competition and conflict. It is, at this moment, that a social vision and a materialist-based political program can rapidly gather supporters among the public.

New tendencies within existing political parties and in those outside the mainstream parties will be in a position to exploit the fault lines of conservatism and anti-progressivism. Conservative ideas and institutions will appear increasingly unjust. If an alternative socialist vision with a specific programmatic agenda emerges at this time, it will quickly gain adherents. It must address human needs and rights including health care, social security, infrastructure improvements, free education through community college, significantly higher minimum wage, jobs and job training. Climate change will need to be framed as an opportunity for new, green industry and employment as well as building a better future for our children. Studies have shown that conversion to a greener economy is possible and economically beneficial across classes. Such an appeal will be so profound that it will have the chance to renew a spiritual connection to the planet itself. As a result, there will be opportunities for masses of people to coalesce behind this new agenda and its political agencies.

In the meantime, significant protest demonstrations will occur against Trump. Progressive Americans must join in street demonstrations on a massive scale. These actions must be under the banner of opposition to the powerful elite and their corrupt institutions, not simply against Trump. These demonstrations will need to take place across the states in the United States and in the federal capital of Washington, DC. Other nations will also amplify their opposition to the global status quo and the institutions that maintains it. Mass demonstrations will likely ignite spontaneous forms of resistance to the disingenuous ideas and the failing justifications of the elite.

If the progressives and radicals do not take advantage of these opportunities, then - like other civilizations throughout history - social and environmental conditions will deteriorate and deprivation and violence will become pervasive. Intercontinental migrations will vastly increase.Violent social and economic effects will become inevitable. Perhaps smaller pockets of human beings will survive the global crises and reconstruct fragmented societies and culture. At this point the words of Irish poet William Yeats will loom more prophetic than ever:

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

(from "The Second Coming" - 1919)

It is up to us to learn from history and embrace the critical moment. These times are charged with volatility and our species and the planet are at stake. Acts of protest and massive demonstrations will multiply; it will not always be peaceful protests and demonstrations but peace must be at the center of the popular struggle. Non-violent confrontation with power brings injustice, corruption and excesses into sharp relief. The political left in the Democratic Party could play a role in this, especially at the local level, if they ally and strategize with groups on the left, including environmental activist groups like Greenpeace, socialist political groups, radical economic institutes like the Hampton Institute, and working-class organizations that support collective ownership and other community initiatives. Thus, when the brittle nature of the present capitalist economic regime and its institutions begin to crack, the political left will be ready to emerge through those fault lines with a healthier vision for ourselves and our planet.

Japan: The Next Battleground for the Left

By Emma Yorke

Anime, manga, Japanese video games. I love it all. I found Japan through my love of their art, music, and other media - I fully admit to being one of those dorky girls that's into all that stuff. Japan is a complex place; so much is nuanced, from their language to their rich, ancient history. The more you study Japan, the more questions you have...and I know I'm far from the first person to have made that observation.

But I think my most troubling question is political. Is Marx welcome in Japan? What does their current social and political landscape tell us, and how does it reflect what's going on in the U.S. right now?

On the surface, the similarities between America and Japan are striking. Japan's government is being hijacked by militant far-right nationalists, their airwaves are overrun with the shrieking of a small but really loud faction of nazi internet trolls, and tension is growing against ethnic minorities. There's a hostile current running through the Japanese working class, resentful of South Koreans for causing - or so they believe - a lot of the troubles Japanese people face. A group called Zaitokukai, short for Zainichi Tokken o Yurusanai Shimin no Kai (在日特権を許さない市民の会 - Association of Citizens Against the Special Privileges of the Zainichi), has formed with the express purpose of denying rights to Zainichi, or permanent Korean residents of Japan. They're a small fascist political action group, but they've definitely made waves since their formation in 2006, launching online harassment campaigns against prominent Korean writers and activists. It's easy to look at them and see the likes of Gamergate, Milo Yiannopoulos, and Breitbart, which is frightening because they're not afraid to inflict violence to achieve their aims (they've been arrested for fighting counter-protesters more than once). With a membership of between 9,000 and 15,000, they're hardly a mass movement. What they are, though, is loud and determined, and they're getting widespread attention...they've even got world-famous voice actresses preaching their platform. That's like One Direction campaigning for Trump.

I brought up Zaitokukai because they're a good example of grassroots ethno-nationalism in action. Fascism tends to start at the bottom, and it usually starts small, just by tapping into populist anger. What we're seeing across the world, and especially here in the U.S., is that when the working class gets swindled by big business and trade deals that only benefit the top 1%, it seems easier for so many struggling workers to look at "the other" in our society and blame them. People are discouraged and angry, and they're not looking left for the answers. Instead, the far-right seems like a more tempting solution to their problems. In Japan, angry working people are taking out their frustration on ethnic Koreans. Here in the U.S., a billionaire con man from Manhattan rode working-class rage to the White House, even as many people are still learning what the word "socialism" means. We're taking our economic anger out on Latinx people, and our police are allowed to murder black people at will.

When things get bad, it's way easier to scapegoat our minorities than it is to stop and look up to see the plutocrats sneering down at us.

A failure on the part of the U.S. Left has been for us to ignore just how deeply capitalism is entrenched in a given society. Here in America, it's easy to just look back to McCarthy and the Red Scare and blame that for American anti-left indoctrination. But it might go deeper than that. Japan has been deeply classist for centuries, and remains so today. Classism and capitalism go hand in hand, since one tends to reinforce the other. When you consider the 2012 case of Rina Bovrisse, an employee of Prada Japan, you see that misogyny is also part of the mix - a Tokyo District Court threw out her lawsuit against Prada Japan, even when CEO Davide Sesia claimed that he was "ashamed of her ugliness". Sesia once told Bovrisse that fifteen shop managers and assistant managers "needed to disappear" because they were "ugly" or "fat." Women over 30 are considered "old," and Prada outlet stores are commonly called "garbage bins for old ladies." The fact that one of the country's highest courts didn't take this woman's lawsuit seriously, forcing her to take her case to the UN, says a lot about the country's deeply reactionary culture. A patriarchal society that views women as commodities is a fertile seedbed for exploitation; capitalism thrives on inequality.

That's not to say that there isn't a vast desire for equality in Japan. At one of Zaitokukai's anti-Korean rallies, huge numbers of Otaku (anime fans) showed up as counter-protestors, holding signs condemning racism and shouting anti-racist slogans. Japan has a strong, growing feminist consciousness as well -- feminist author Mitsu Tanaka has been agitating for women's equality since the 1970's. "I realized that men only saw women as a convenience - either as mothers or 'toilets,'" Tanaka says (using the word "toilet" to refer to a repository of male bodily fluids). "While it might have been difficult (to stand up to men) as individuals, it ultimately became possible when women stood together, side by side."

Tanaka's call for female solidarity, as well as the young anti-racist crowds coming out to support their Korean friends and neighbors, seems to be a yearning for a true leftist movement in Japan. Over the last decade or so, the Japanese Communist Party (日本共産党, Nihon Kyōsan-tō) seems to have steadily gained ground; as of 2015, the JCP jumped to 21 seats in the House of Representatives, making them the world's largest non-governing communist party. As their membership surged after the financial crisis of 2008, it seems easy to see that many Japanese people are looking to the left for solutions to working-class problems. The Japanese Communist Party calls for an end to the long military alliance with the US, the removal of American bases and armed forces from Japanese soil, and forcing North Korea to the bargaining table by nonmilitary measures. On the equality front, the JCP promotes legalization of civil unions for same-sex couples. This is a highly radical stance in a country where women are still required to take a man's last name when she marries, though the measure might seem halfhearted to westerners. Josef Stalin once deeply criticized the JCP for their pacifist stance and their reluctance to fight a campaign of covert warfare against the Imperial government. The JCP's stance on the Emperor may be the most controversial; the Central Committee promises that, under their leadership, the Emperor would be allowed to remain, so long as the role of Emperor becomes purely symbolic. This position has chafed leftists for decades.

Naturally, a global working-class consciousness might be more necessary now than ever before; it's the only force that can stop the rise of fascism across the world. Whether it's through the Japanese Communist Party or a yet-unknown radical coalition, we westerners need to lend all the support we can to our leftist comrades in Japan. Socialism in action would start a brilliant chain reaction across every facet of Japanese society, and its effects would arguably be more visible there than anywhere else.

Sources

The Economist: http://www.economist.com/news/asia/21648771-communists-become-japans-strongest-political-opposition-provinces-red-revival

Japan Times: http://www.japantimes.co.jp/life/2015/10/03/lifestyle/women-japan-unite-examining-contemporary-state-feminism/#.WEHPdX3nVG0

Identity, Inc.: Liberal Multiculturalism and the Political Economy of Identity Politics

By Jacob Ertel

The Left in the United States is at a critical juncture. Then again, it has been for roughly the past 35 years. With the onset of neoliberalism and the dissolution of the class-based politics of the 1960s and 1970s, a new political framework has emerged typified by the politicization of identity. It is this discourse that has prevailed on the Left since the early 1980s, always in tension with popular currents Marxian critique but oft posited as the sole truly radical theory and practice. To be sure, identity politics comes with indisputable benefits, including the reclaiming and centering of historical narratives and a more nuanced understanding of interpersonal forms of aggression and abuse. At the same time, however, certain critical features of Marxian critique have taken a backseat to this framework, which largely abjures a substantive analysis of the material conditions central to capitalist social relations in lieu of the purported deconstruction of institutional norms. In other words, the critique of classism (the individual denigration of people not exhibiting behavior or values associated with certain social classes) has largely superseded the critique of capitalism. It is worth considering, then, whether there is anything inherent about identity politics that necessitates an abandonment of veritable anti-capitalism in lieu of a more individualized form of putative radicalism. Is it purely by chance that the rise of identity politics coincides with the imposition of neoliberalism?

Many might argue that political movements have in fact secured significant victories since the 1980s. This sentiment often hinges on the successes of mainstream gay rights movements, but is perhaps most explicitly embodied by myopic utterances of 'post-racialism' since the beginning of the Obama presidency. However, victories such as the Matthew Shepard and James Byrd Jr. Hate Crimes Prevention Act of 2009, the repeal of Don't Ask Don't Tell, and the election of Obama, do nothing to prevent state violence or the conditions that undergird it; at best they present a hyper-individualized conception of success and at worst they further legitimate the state as the supreme arbiter of rights in its capacity to promote ostensibly progressive social values, but without questioning how such rights are contingent on the state's own monopoly on violence both domestic and abroad. Perhaps most disturbing is that many self-described 'radicals' who share similar critiques of mainstream political movements maintain the central logic of identity politics while espousing a militant rhetoric that claims to challenge white bourgeois norms at the same time as it inadvertently reaffirms them. Identity politics, then, must be rooted in liberalism.

Much has been made of the deficiencies of identity politics and its cousin, liberal multiculturalism; fewer analyses actually trace the genealogy of these discourses. In moving from early liberal theorists to contemporary critics, this essay attempts to briefly sketch such a genealogy. In doing so, it examines the effects of these discourses on the potential for militant anti-capitalist organizing. It is ultimately argued that identity politics serves to further retrench the state's narrative of progress and liberal multiculturalism at the same time that economic stratification only intensifies under neoliberalism, in which appeals to a rights-based framework focused on representing a diversity of experiences do little to mitigate large-scale social upheaval. In this way, the shift from the insurgent materialist perspectives of the 1960s and early 1970s to a politics of identity often plays into same narratives that it positions itself against.

Liberalism and the Individual

The exercising of individual rights is a key tenet of civic liberalism that dates back to the 17th and 18th centuries, first articulated by theoreticians such as John Locke and John Stuart Mill. Mill in particular asserts the primacy of the self-determining liberal subject in contributing to societal progress. Through exercising individual liberties, he argues, "human life also becomes rich, diversified and animating, furnishing more abundant aliment to high thoughts and elevating feelings, and strengthening the tie to which binds every individual to the race, by making the race infinitely better worth belonging to."[1] Such liberty is not without parameters, however. In fact, Mill avers that it is precisely the necessary limits to behavior imposed on individuals through rights that enable "human beings [to] become a noble and beautiful object of contemplation" and fully cultivate themselves.[2] Law serves a paradoxical purpose here: it imposes limits on the individual at the same time as it engenders it through its very constitution. In other words, the individual, as an inherently juridical construct, cannot exist without the law and the limitations it imposes. Mill himself is acutely aware of this contradiction. "Whenever…there is definite damage, or a definite risk of damage, either to an individual or to the public," he explains, "the case is taken out of the province of liberty and placed in that of morality or law."[3] Individual self-determination can thus only be understood as such when it is circumscribed in accordance with the purview of the state's legal personality.

This facet of liberalism presents essential problems for early critics such as Marx. In "On the Jewish Question" in particular, Marx argues that the law's primary function is the maintenance of private property as the central structuring mechanism of society. For Marx, property embodies the truest expression of self-interest, "the right to enjoy one's fortune and to dispose of it as one will; without regard for other men and independently of society…this individual liberty, and it's application, form the basis of civil society."[4] Such enjoyment, however, must also be secured through legal curtailment, as an unregulated expression of self-interest could hinder others' ability to cultivate their own property and thus develop as citizens. In this sense security is a natural consequence of private property and no less foundational to civil society. This dynamic poses an immitigable tension for Marx. If society "exists only in order to guarantee for each of its members the preservation of his person, his rights and his property,"[5] and if such preservation is inherently limiting to individual expression in its truest form, then the individual-and the political community to which the individual contributes-exists as a mere means for the preservation of rights. [6] Within this framework, the bourgeois property owner becomes the symbol of authenticity as the personification of liberal rights. This is why for Marx the achievement of "political emancipation" is ultimately futile as a finite strategy: political rights entail state recognition, and thus the perpetuation of the capitalist mode of production in which rights are constituted as an indispensable precondition.

Liberal Multiculturalism as 'American-ness'

Liberalism has endured as a central philosophical strain centuries after Mill formulated his famed treatise. Indeed, liberalism's emphasis on individual liberty, unregulated market rationality, and universality characterizes both the social dynamics and capital flows that permeate society. Yet it is important to interrogate the codification of individual freedom within a given set of all encompassing, state-legitimated rights. It is easily observed that not everyone residing in liberal states receives truly equal treatment; more often than not the law may appear to operate unfairly, and its ostensible commitment to equality can undermine radically unequal material conditions. Black people in the United States, for example, have been particularly subjected to tremendous physical violence, but also legally excluded from civic participation. Many activists and scholars believe that because of this, an intuitive approach to political agitation should involve advocating for greater state recognition. This stance takes for granted that, as Will Kymlicka puts it, "accommodating ethnic and national differences is only part of a larger struggle to make a more tolerant and inclusive democracy…An adequate theory of the rights of cultural minorities must therefore be compatible with the just demands of disadvantaged social groups…." [7] Kymlicka's proposition is important because it attempts to mitigate social inequities through a multicultural and rights-based framework deemed able to accommodate historical, social, and cultural differences. Rather than emphasizing the benefits of legal universalism, Kymlicka acknowledges that a blanketed application of the law is insufficient.

His provocation is less successful in its application, however. In positioning "the fact that anyone can integrate into the common culture, regardless of race or color"[8] as the great triumph of liberal democracy, Kymlicka participates in the very mode of erasure he seeks to ameliorate by failing to interrogate the composition of the "common" (read: middle-class, white) culture into which minorities are purportedly choosing to incorporate themselves. His assertion that "…[Latino] immigrants who come to the United States with the intention to stay and become citizens…are committed to learning English and participating in the mainstream society,"[9] for example, whitewashes any semblance of difference by commending minority groups for their ability to effectively shed such difference in striving for political recognition. On the other hand, Kymlicka misunderstands the effectiveness of specific legal provisions, claiming that "…national minorities in the Unites States have a range of rights intended to reflect and protect their status as distinct cultural communities, and they have fought to retain and expand these rights."[10] Kymlicka takes this to signify the superiority of liberal democracy while characterizing integration into the US legal framework as liberalism's crowning achievement.

On the contrary, the dual subsumption and glorification of difference is foundational to US nation building. To recall Marx, it is the normalization of political emancipation-as opposed to full human emancipation-as the main form of struggle that naturalizes the capitalist social order by positing the bourgeois property owner as the telos of human progress. Reading Kymlicka through Mill in conjunction with Marx, then, illustrates that liberal multiculturalism presupposes a universal standard that both inherently limits individual expression through the incorporation of minority groups into a presumptively 'common culture' premised on specifically normative discourses and institutions. This mode of incorporation circumvents the potential for opposition to capitalism while simultaneously producing newly racialized subjects who are excluded from the political rights now propounded as the fullest actualization of freedom. Jodi Melamed explains how this dynamic has been maintained through the US' efforts to promote racial equality by espousing a formal policy of "racial liberalism" not dissimilar to Kymlicka's propositions. Writes Melamed, "…the liberal race paradigm recognizes racial inequality as a problem, and it secures a liberal symbolic framework for race reform centered in abstract equality, market individualism, and inclusive civic nationalism. Antiracism becomes a nationally recognized social value and, for the first time, gets absorbed into US governmentality." [11] Moreover, the official antiracism of the post-war period can be read as constitutive in and of itself of US nationalism, as it becomes a rationalization for transnational capitalism and foreign intervention in the name of US interests. [12] The "suturing of liberal antiracism to US nationalism, which manages, develops, and depoliticizes capitalism by collapsing it with Americanism," Melamed writes, "results in a situation where 'official' antiracist discourse and politics actually limit awareness of global capitalism."[13] In other words, a policy of racial liberalism positions the US as a fully multicultural state necessarily counterpoised to the "monoculturalism" of non-Western societies.[14]

Multiculturalism as American-ness now reflects a universal subject, construed as a victory against racism at the same time as it is repurposed to further entrench global capitalism.[15] Liberal multiculturalism here functions not only with regard to race, but all non-normative identities. A pertinent example is the enfolding of queer people into the narrative of US nationalism after the September 11, 2001 attacks. As Jasbir Puar explains, "…even as patriotism immediately after September 11 was inextricably tied to a reinvigoration of heterosexual norms for Americans, progressive sexuality was championed as a hallmark of US modernity." Despite this glorification of heteronormativity, "the United States was also portrayed as 'feminist' in relation to the Taliban's treatment of Afghani women…and gay-safe in comparison to the Middle East." [16] Puar's insight demonstrates the ease with which non-normative cultural narratives are incorporated into US nationalism under liberal multiculturalism and subsequently recast as no less normative than Marx's bourgeois property owner. Queerness is still politicized, but not as an oppositional identity; rather, capitalism, orientalism, and heteronormativity are grafted onto it and reconstitute it as the expression of truly American values.

The Political-Economy of Identity Politics

Though is crucial to identify the development of liberal multiculturalism as essential to the naturalization of capitalism, it is also worth gauging the extent to which liberal multiculturalism has been enmeshed within larger political-economic processes such as the dissolution of Fordism. As the post-war Fordist model of standardized mass production and mass consumption began to outpace more relaxed consumption patterns, Fordism's systemic rigidities began to negatively impact its ability (in tandem with a relatively strong Keynesian welfare state) to mitigate capitalism's volatility. When exogenous factors such as the OPEC oil shock of 1973 compounded this dynamic, firms attempted to deal with these increasingly unsustainable political-economic features by diversifying their production lines to spike demand, a tactical shift made possible through the flexibilization of production along with the growingly transnational character of capital flows. Many firms moved their production lines off shore and marked up prices by way of customization at the same time as production costs were drastically lowered. As Wolfgang Streeck argues, however, a new accumulation regime is not just a new accumulation regime: it engenders a new individual.[17]

Within a globalizing economy, the expression of individual autonomy increasingly rests upon the exercising of agency now inextricable from the political economy of customized consumption. Streeck refers to this dynamic as "a way for individuals to link up to others and thereby define their place in the world" in which one may "conceive an act of purchase…as an act of self-identification and self-presentation, one that sets the individual apart from some social groups while uniting him or her with others."[18] It is not as though individuals regularly defined themselves in contrast to normative identities before the neoliberal turn, through a range of practices not inherently contingent on the act of consumption; however, the development of identity politics in conjunction with neoliberalism's emergence at the very least shares an affinity with the differentiated patterns of individuation present within the flexibilized production processes explicated by Streeck, in which politics is decontextualized as "individual market choice trumps collective political choice."[19]

Fordism's demise contributed to the fundamental restructuring of the Left in the US. The class-based politics of Left movements began to erode as New Right politicians like Reagan and Thatcher grew to ascendance in the late 1970s and early 1980s and used the inflationary crisis as a means to radically restructure their respective countries' economies. Such a restructuring involved scaling back social welfare institutions, busting unions, and imposing austerity measures, all of which present grave consequences for the ability of the working class to sustain itself politically. Whereas the New Left of the 1960s and 1970s had largely foregone an analysis of cultural difference (often to a fault) in lieu of forming strong class-based alliances, Left movements arising during the 1980s began to mirror the individualized ethos and distrust of political institutions embodied by neoliberal governments. As Adolph Reed Jr. notes, within the purview of this new form of identity politics, "as in Thatcher's apothegm, there is no such thing as society, 'only individuals and their families.'"[20] With the subsequent rightward turn of the Democratic Party in the US, moreover, much of the working class "…by and large proceeded to distance itself from the New Left's agenda, no longer seeing themselves reflected in or spoken for by its politics or its electoral strategies."[21]

Originally conceived in the late 1950s as a response to the bureaucratic, top-down approach of the Old Left, the New Left had attempted to politicize identity throughout the 1960s and early 1970s in response to the Vietnam War and virulent racism on the home front. Though the movement often included significant numbers of people of color and sexual minorities, the explicit politicization of these identities was never understood as central to its functioning.[22] The emergence of identity politics, in contrast, represents "the achievement of minority public 'voice,' metaphorically speaking, an enfranchisement of black, female, gay, bisexual, and ethnic communities," both within intentional political communities and the state at large.[23] This structuring of political communities by way of politicized identity takes as its foundation that the achievement of "social and economic equality" depends on increasing "political equality." [24] Here we can begin to outline how identity politics as a contemporary iteration of Left radicalism is in fact inextricable from the regimes of racial liberalism and liberal multiculturalism.

Identity, Inc.

The aim here is not to critique identity politics in and of itself as a method of organizing, but rather to demonstrate how compatible it is with the discourse of liberal multiculturalism. Identity politics in part arose as a reaction to the New Left's inability to account for difference in its composition. At the same time, a range of political-economic factors such as the collapse of Fordism and the consequent restructuring of the welfare state dissolved the New Left's ability to maintain a veritable anti-capitalist disposition. Reed also points to the notable retreat of the Left into academia and the materialization of identity politics as a corollary of cultural studies and post-structuralist discourse characterized by the "rejection of any form of centralizing power or notion of objective truth."[25] In practice, according to Reed, this discourse translates into "a focus on the supposedly liberatory significance of communities and practices defined by their marginality in relation to systems of entrenched power or institutions, a preference for strategies of 'resistance' to imperatives of institutions and 'transgression' of conventions rather than strategies aimed at transformation of institutions and social relations," and the belief that radical political movements should be composed of "groups formed around ascriptive identities that relate to one another on a principle of recognizing and preserving the integrity of their various differences." [26] Reed opposes identity politics because he believes it uncritically accepts capitalist social relations by focusing its efforts on transgression of institutional norms rather than on institutions themselves. In recalling Puar's explication of the manipulation of queer narratives after September 11, Reed's concern is understandable because of how seamlessly difference is codified through narratives of societal progress and liberal social values that both pass implicit judgment on those who continue to reside outside the parameters of normative liberal discourse, while legitimating imperialist projects abroad in opposition to putatively less-accepting 'monocultural' states.

At the same time, activists and scholars have argued in defense of identity politics as a radical discourse that enables the "re-creation of minority histories in a public sphere that had long been hostile or indifferent to narratives of that self and community." For Grant Farred, "Identity politics…represents not only the marginal subject speaking back, but a more engaging philosophical project: the oppressed not only resisting but also negotiating the limitations of agency."[27] In other words, the reclaiming of historical narratives and the construction of intentional communities through identity politics embodies the redefining of state-imposed limitations to self-determination and can thus contribute to both radical social transformation and a more nuanced and culturally aware Left. Indeed, potential exists for identity politics to enable the construction of previously censored histories or cultural narratives. There is certainly a perennial need within the Left for more complex understandings of power, for more less dogmatic visions of emancipation, and for a more expansive formulation of class-based politics. Yet while all this may be true, Wendy Brown explains, identity politics is "partly dependent on the demise of a critique of capitalism and of bourgeois cultural and economic values," and "tethered to a formulation of justice which, ironically, reinscribes a bourgeois ideal as its measure." [28]

Discursive Dilemmas

Drawing on Foucault's theoretical contributions, Brown notes that identity itself is produced through disciplinary mechanisms that, when combined with liberalism's true inability to provide the universal protections it claims to embody, results in "the emergence of politicized identity rooted in disciplinary productions but oriented by liberal discourse toward protest against exclusion from a discursive formation of universal justice." [29] In other words, the politicization of identity is discursively ineluctable from liberalism's claim to universality. Through this form of protest, identity politics is driven by an inherent desire for incorporation into this universal framework, one that, as we have seen through Mill and Kymlicka, has come to tolerate a degree of diversity while presupposing the universal standard of the bourgeois white male property owner. Such a standard can only function when codified through the conferral of rights. Brown questions that if it is "this ideal against which many of the exclusions and privations of people of color, gays and lesbians, and women are articulated, then the political purchase of contemporary American identity politics would seem to be achieved in part through a certain discursive renaturalization of capitalism that can be said to have marked progressive discourse since the 1970s."[30]

None of this is to deride the tactics of various social and political groups, but to acknowledge how the destruction of the Fordist-Keynesian regime has made it more difficult to center an analysis of class when the already-insubstantial institutions of class-based social cohesion have been so drastically eroded since the 1970s and 1980s especially. In this way we may understand neoliberalism not solely as the political-economic reassertion of free market rationality, but also as the reconstitution of Mill's brand of civic liberalism through a multicultural discourse that, as Brown notes, "retains the real or imagined holdings of its reviled subject-in this case, the bourgeois male privileges-as objects of desire." [31] Identity politics thus necessarily "abjure[s] a critique of class power and class norms precisely because the injuries suffered by these identities are measured by bourgeois norms of social acceptance, legal protection, relative material comfort, and social acceptance."[32] The politicization of identity under neoliberalism thus arises through the exclusion of identity from liberalism's presumptively universal subjectivity, thus reinstalling the ideal of the white bourgeoisie as the base expression of such subjectivity. Politicized identity requires the maintenance of this universal subjectivity, as well as its own exclusion from it, in order to endure as identity itself.[33]

As a vehicle for protesting exclusion through the incorporation of the interests of social groups into the bourgeois power structure, identity politics inadvertently reifies it while framing rights, recognition, or (in its most militant variation) the transgression of norms as the actualization of resistance. What might an alternative political praxis to identity politics look like, then? How can the liberalism at the core of identity politics actually be contested when it seems to be so pervasive within a range of radical leftist circles? It is difficult to know for sure. Perhaps it would entail a recommitment to challenging the liberal discourse through which capitalism is legitimated. Perhaps it would include a recognition of and sensitivity towards the intersectional character of difference while seeking to destabilize the paradigm of transgression-as-revolution in lieu of a more fundamentally materialist framework that specifically prioritizes working class struggle. Perhaps it would mean a re-articulation of identity as a fluid rather than a historically and biologically fixed point while continuing to center the importance of historical and cultural narratives. These are merely provocations, however; it is ultimately up to the people to decide.

Works Cited

Brown, Wendy. "Wounded Attachments." Political Theory, Vol. 21, No. 3 (August 1993), pp. 390-410.

Farred, Grant. "Endgame Identity? Mapping the New Left Root of Identity Politics." New Literary History, Vol. 31 (2000), pp. 627-648.

Kymlicka, Will. "The Politics of Multiculturalism," in Multicultural Citizenship. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995.

Marx, Karl. "On the Jewish Question," in The Marx-Engels Reader, ed. Robert Tucker. New York: W.W. Norton and Company, 1978.

Melamed, Jodi. "From Racial Liberalism to Neoliberal Multiculturalism." Social Text 89, Vol. 24, No. 4 (Winter 2006), pp. 1-24.

Mill, John Stuart. On Liberty, in 'On Liberty' and Other Writings, ed. Stefan Collini. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989.

Puar, Jasbir. Terrorist Assemblages: Homonationalism in Queer Times. Durham: Duke University Press, 2007.

Reed Jr., Adolph. Class Notes: Posing as Politics and Other Thoughts on the American Scene. New York: The New Press, 2001.

Streeck, Wolfgang. "Citizens as Customers: Considerations on the New Politics of Consumption." New Left Review, Vol. 76 (July-August 2012), pp. 27-47.

Young, Iris Marion. "Polity and Group Difference: A Critique of the Ideal of Universal Citizenship," in Theorizing Citizenship, ed. Ronald Beiner. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1995.

Citations

[1] John Stuart Mill, On Liberty, in 'On Liberty' and Other Writings, ed. Stefan Collini (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 60.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Ibid, 80.

[4] Karl Marx, "On the Jewish Question," in The Marx-Engels Reader, ed. Robert Tucker (New York: W.W. Norton and Company, 1978), 42.

[5] Ibid, 43.

[6] Ibid.

[7] Will Kymlicka, "The Politics of Multiculturalism," in Multicultural Citizenship (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995), 10.

[8] Ibid, 15.

[9] Ibid, 8.

[10] Ibid, 4.

[11] Jodi Melamed, "From Racial Liberalism to Neoliberal Multiculturalism," Social Text 89, Vol. 24, No. 4 (Winter 2006), 2.

[12] Ibid.

[13] Ibid, 6.

[14] Ibid, 8.

[15] Ibid, 6.

[16] Jasbir Puar, Terrorist Assemblages: Homonationalism in Queer Times (Durham: Duke University Press, 2007), 41.

[17] Wolfgang Streeck, "Citizens as Customers: Considerations on the New Politics of Consumption," New Left Review, Vol. 76 (July-August 2012), 35.

[18] Ibid.

[19] Ibid, 44.

[20] Adolph Reed Jr., Class Notes: Posing as Politics and Other Thoughts on the American Scene (New York: The New Press, 2001), xxvi.

[21] Grant Farred, "Endgame Identity? Mapping the New Left Root of Identity Politics," New Literary History, Vol. 31 (2000), 634.

[22] Ibid, 636.

[23] Ibid, 631.

[24] Iris Marion Young, "Polity and Group Difference: A Critique of the Ideal of Universal Citizenship," in Theorizing Citizenship, ed. Ronald Beiner (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1995), 185.

[25] Reed, Class Notes, xiv.

[26] Ibid.

[27] Farred, "Endgame Identity? Mapping the New Left Roots of Identity Politics," 638.

[28] Wendy Brown, "Wounded Attachments," Political Theory, Vol. 21, No. 3 (August 1993), 394.

[29] Ibid, 393.

[30] Ibid, 394.

[31] Ibid.

[32] Ibid.

[33] Ibid, 398.