From
operaismo to ‘autonomist Marxism’
A Response
Review
article:
Storming
Heaven: Class Composition and Struggle in Italian Autonomist Marxism by Steve Wright (London:
Pluto Press, 2002)
Reading ‘Capital’ Politically (2nd edn.) by Harry Cleaver
(Leeds:
AK/Anti-thesis, 2000)
Introductory Comment by Harry Cleaver: This
article was published in issue #11 (2003) of the British Marxist journal Aufheben.
It purports to be a review of two books, one by Steve Wright on certain aspects
of post-WWII Italian Marxist thought, and one by me on reading Capital
politically. The review essentially uses these two books as foils to attack the
current of Marxist thought that I have called “autonomist Marxism”, i.e., the
various writings that have recognized and appreciated the ability of the
working class to take the initiative in struggle and act “autonomously” vis à
vis capitalist power. In the course of carrying out that attack the reviewers
ignore the bulk of the substantive material in both books, latch onto and critique
a few elements that they don’t like and generally excoriate “autonomist
Marxism.” Unfortunately, in the process they not only ignore most of the theory
in question but misrepresent and distort much of what they do deal with and
thus, inevitably, miss the mark in their attacks.
The “review”, however, does provide an
occasion for setting the record straight and elaborating on a few important
points. Therefore, I have responded to
various statements, characterizations and critiques by inserting comments in
the text.
The Italian ‘Hot Autumn’ of 1969 was one of the high
points of late 20th century revolutionary struggle, and is
associated with operaismo
(‘workerism’), a Marxian approach that focused on rank-and-file struggles in
contrast to what was seen as the politics and opportunism of the dominant
(Stalinist) left. The wave of social struggles of that year was echoed,
although with important differences, in the tumultuous ‘Movement of 1977’. Under
the banner of autonomia, the
workerists’ analysis of class struggle was extended through the actions of
groups outside the workplace. Intense street-fighting, self-reduction or
outright refusal of bills and fares, the explicit raising of radical demands
such as the abolition of wage-labour: all this hinted at a movement for which
what counts as ‘political’ had been seriously questioned by struggles around
wider desires and needs. Readers will be aware of workerism and autonomia today through the works of its
most well-known theorists, such as Negri, through the US journal Midnight Notes, and perhaps through the
aut-op-sy website and discussion list.[1] For
many of those dissatisfied with the versions of Marxism and anarchism available
to them in the UK, the notions of ‘autonomy’ and ‘autonomist’ have positive
associations. For example, the recent ‘anti-capitalist’ mobilizations of J18
and Seattle both drew on themes and language associated with autonomia, such as autonomous struggles
and diversity.[2]
However, the history and theory surrounding workerism and autonomia are not always well known. The recent publication of two books on operaismo and autonomia and their theoretical heritage testify to the continued
interest in this current. Harry Cleaver's Reading
‘Capital’ Politically was originally published in 1979, and has now been
republished, with a new preface. Cleaver’s Introduction, in particular, has
been a point of reference to many in grasping the significance of post-war
developments, including struggles that don't necessarily express themselves in
traditional forms. Steve
Wright’s Storming Heaven presents a
critical history of the Italian movement’s political and theoretical
development in relation to the struggles of the 1950s, 60s and 70s – a history
which, we argue, now supersedes the Cleaver presentation.
Comment: I should hope so! Even
in Italian there is no satisfactory history of the development of the struggles
of this period in Italy or of the innovations in theory that were part of it. I
welcomed Steve Wright’s work when it was in the dissertation stage and
encouraged him to publish it as a book. Storming Heaven provides the
most detailed history of those theoretical developments that we currently have
available - something that I sketched in only a few pages in the introduction
to my book.
The publication of these two books gives us
the opportunity for a critical reappraisal of the contributions of operaismo and autonomia, and Cleaver’s attempt to keep them alive.
Comment: Reading Capital
Politically was not an attempt to
keep those contributions “alive.” They are very much alive both in the sense
that there are many who still utilize the ideas generated during those periods
and in the sense that there has been an ongoing development of the ideas that
has taken us beyond them. The origin of the book is explained in its preface: it was
the by-product of a summer’s effort to come up with a theoretical
reinterpretation of Marx’s value theory that made sense to me. The long
introduction that situates that interpretation within the history of Marxism was
constructed later at the behest of the book’s publisher.
In particular, we will examine five issues.
First, there is the question of whether the concept of ‘autonomy’ is adequate
as a basis for a class analysis.
Comment: Right off the bat you
know that something is fishy here. No single concept could possibly be
“adequate” as a “basis for a class analysis” and therefore you know in advance
from the way the question is posed that the answer will be negative.
Second, we argue that the workerists and hence
those who have followed them suffered from a lack of an adequate critique of
leftism and nationalism.
Comment: Again a charge of
“inadequacy”. This charge is always a cheap shot because just as no single
concept could possibly be “adequate” for the analysis of any complex
phenomenon, so too every analysis is always partial and therefore can always be
judged “inadequate” for grasping everything there is to grasp. The real issue
always is, or should be, whether a theory draws our attention to something that
is important and whether it helps us understand something we didn’t understand
before. Another thing: while the meaning of “nationalism” may be fairly
unambiguous, the meaning of “leftism” is not. The term is used recurrently in
this text and what it is supposed to denote remains unclear even once it is
finally defined in footnote 31.
Third, there is the issue of the ambiguity
of those influenced by workerism in their account of the status of the ‘law of
value’.
comment: As will become apparent
below, no general characterization of the position of “those influenced by
workerism” on this subject is possible because there are dramatic
disagreements. What will be attacked here is the position of the Italian
Marxist Antonio Negri, but he has long
ago been critiqued by other “autonomist” Marxists, including myself.
Fourth, the failure of workerism and of autonomia to theorize retreat in the
class struggle can be linked to an implicit (or even explicit) satisfaction
among some theorists in this tradition with the current limits of the class
struggle.
Comment: As I hope will also
become apparent below, this charge is scurrilous. Not only has there been no
failure to theorize “retreat” (if what is meant by that is a downturn in a
cycle of struggle) but given the intense preoccupation by people in this area
with finding ways to go beyond current limits of working class power, the
affirmation that they are “satisfied” with those limits is nasty and
mean-spirited misrepresentation.
Finally, there is the question of whether
the political reading of Marx’s Capital
offered by Cleaver actually works.
Comment: The irony here is that
these “reviewers” never take up the political reading that I carry out of
Chapter 1 of Capital and therefore never have a basis for answering this
question.
We
conclude that the defeat of the movements that sustained the development of
workerism has led both to the abandonment of the project of world revolution
and the ideologization of theory among theorists in this tradition.
Comment: This conclusion flies in
the face of the explicit dedication of the people in this current to the
overthrow of capitalism as a global system and only makes sense as a statement
that their approach is different from that of the reviews and thus, in good
sectarian manner, they are denounced as betrayers of the proletariat.
1 Promise and limits of an ‘autonomist’ class analysis
To understand the workerist and the subsequent
‘autonomist Marxist’ take on class we need to go back to the emergence of the
current’s key theoretical concepts.
The origins of operaismo lie in research carried out on workers’ behaviour in the
1950s. The concern of the research was with workers’ own needs and perceptions:
their definitions of their problems on the shopfloor, and the nature of their
struggles. Wright (p. 63) cites the following as the core features of the
workerist perspective emerging from this research: the identification of the
working class with the labour subsumed to the immediate process of production;
an emphasis on the wage struggle as a key terrain of political conflict; and
the insistence that the working class was the driving force within capitalist
society.[3]
All these features were a reaction against, and the basis for a developed alternative
to, the productivist reformism and (bourgeois) politics of the traditional
(Stalinist) left, i.e. the PCI (the Italian Communist Party, by far the largest
Communist Party in Western Europe).
Comment: Not “i.e.,” but “e.g.,”. As Steve points out in Storming
Heaven, the PCI was not the only object of critique but shared that honor
with other parties of the Old Left, especially the PSI.
For the PCI, ‘politics’ was conducted
primarily through parliament (and the union bureaucracy). By contrast, in
stressing the significance of workers’ own struggles within industries, the
workerists rejected the classical Leninist distinction between ‘political’ and
‘economic’ struggles.
Through relating workerist theory to the
context of the struggles through which it emerged, Storming Heaven examines workerism’s most well-known category –
that of class composition, which
Wright (p. 49) defines as the various behaviours which arise when particular
forms of labour-power are inserted in specific processes of production. Operaismo also introduced the concept of
the mass worker, which describes the
subject identified through the research on the FIAT and Olivetti factories.
What characterizes the mass worker is its relatively simple labour; its place
at heart of immediate process of production; and its lack of the bonds which
had tied skilled workers to production (Wright, p. 107).
1.2. Workerism beyond workers
As Cleaver points out, the traditional Marxian
analysis, and political practice, understands production and work itself as
neutral. The aim is to take over the means of production, and run them ‘in the
interests of the workers’, to the ends of a fairer distribution. However, the
research on FIAT and Olivetti had shown that the division of labour, and the
definition of skills, operated as a process of domination rather than being a
technical matter. The workerists therefore proposed concepts intended to grasp
this non-neutrality of factory organization and machinery. Particularly
important here is the work of Panzieri, who had argued that, unlike the
reformist Stalinists, the working class recognized the unity of the ‘technical’
and ‘despotic’ moments of the organization of production.[4] Such concepts pointed to the limitations
of workers’ self-management which could be seen to be merely the
self-management of one’s own domination.
Tronti developed this line of analysis with
the notion of the social factory. The
idea of the factory as locus of power was extended to the wider society as a
whole which was seen to be organized around the same principles of domination
and value (re)production.[5] The implication of this was that, since
social organization in society is not neutral, then resistance outside the
factory could be a valid moment of the class struggle.
Yet the emphasis on those (factory) workers
in the immediate process of production meant that operaismo was caught in a tension if not a contradiction. Tronti
and others were unable to reconcile their notion of the social factory with the
emphasis they wanted to place on what happened in large factories: even as they
pointed beyond the mass worker, workerists continued to privilege the role of
the factory proletariat.
Comment: Tronti went back into
the PCI. Others used the notion of
social factory as a point of departure to analyse, and attempt to
coordinate, struggles within and without factories. Indeed, the very concept of
social factory meant that the “proletariat” and its struggles could be found
throughout society. The concept of class composition highlighted the importance
of grasping the complexities and interrelationships of actual struggles. This
was precisely what made it possible for many to recognize the connection
between struggles inside the big factories and those in the larger social
factory.
In both footnote #3 and in the
above paragraph, the authors of this article emphasize those who were unable to
go along with this development and continued to prioritise, a priori,
factory struggles. The caravan, as it were, passed them by.
Autonomia (the ‘area of autonomy’), a loose network
of groupings including and influenced by radical workerists, emerged in the
1970s, following the collapse of some of the workerist groups. This new
movement also saw the influx of a lot of younger people; they were often university
educated or working in small manufacturing or the service sector. They
characteristically emphasized the localized and personal over class-wide
struggle, need over duty, and difference over homogeneity (Wright, p. 197).
They thus sought to stretch the concept of class composition beyond the
immediate labour-process in the factories. They were also less committed to
totalizing concepts of class and to their workplace identities; and they had
less time for the PCI and the unions. Some of these tendencies found
theoretical expression in Bologna’s seminal ‘The tribe of moles’.[6]
The most controversial theoretical
development in this period was Toni Negri’s argument that the mass worker had
been replaced by what he called the socialized
worker (operaio sociale). Negri’s
thesis was that capital, while maintaining the firm as the heart of its
valorization process, drives toward a greater socialization of labour, going
beyond the simple extension of the immediate process of production towards a
complete redefinition of the category of productive labour. The extent of this
category, according to Negri, was now ‘relative to the level of the advancement
of the process of subsumption of labour to capital… [W]e can now say that the
concept of wage labourer and the concept of productive labourer tend towards
homogeneity’, with the resulting constitution of ‘the new social figure of a
unified proletariat’.[7] In short, all moments of the circulation
process, and even reproduction, were seen to be productive of value; the
distinction between productive and non-productive labour was obliterated.
Comment: Negri made much of the
distinction in Marx between the formal and real subsumption of
labor by capital. In Capital this distinction is between the
subordination of labor - say in factories or through the development of
technology that reorganizes the labor process in ways that give capital greater
power of command over workers. Eventually Negri argued that beyond the real
subsumption of labor came the real subsumption of society - and
thus the subordination of all of life to capital’s purposes. It has never been
clear how this vision differs, if at all, either from Tronti’s social factory
or from the vision of cultural hegemony held by critical theorists; but the
conclusions drawn for political action certainly differed markedly.
While Capital
Volume 1 assumes the reproduction of labour-power in the form of the family and
education, Negri's theoretical innovation was to focus on this as a locus of
struggle.
Comment: This was precisely NOT Negri’s
innovation but rather that of women and students in struggle - struggles which
at times pitted the women and students at the University of Padova against
Negri. Credit should be given where credit is due: the emphasis on the importance
of “reproduction” came with Mariarosa Della Costa and the Italian feminist
movement. Unfortunately, because Negri has been translated more than many other
Italian writers in this tradition he is often given credit for ideas that he
did not come up with, but adopted - sometimes extending or changing their
meaning. One would hope that Steve’s book will help people to resituate Negri
within the torrent of creative ideas and innovative actions from which he took
and to which he contributed. This review, unfortunately, by dwelling so much on
Negri contributes little to that resituating.
Negri suggested that, historically, there
had been a shift in emphasis after the end of the 1960s whereby capital adopted
a strategy to avoid exclusive dependence on the traditional working class and
to rely more heavily on the labour-power of social groups who were, at that
time, marginal and less organized.[8] Thus he and his followers looked to the
organized unemployed, the women’s movement, the practice of self-reduction and
the increasing instances of organized looting that characterised the Movement
of 1977 as valid moments of anti-capitalist practice; the revolutionary process
was understood as a pluralism of organs of proletarian self-rule (Wright, p.
173).
Comment: Right or wrong, this
analysis is an example of the attempt to grasp the process of political
recomposition, or the way the class composition is changed through workers
struggles and to draw conclusions for political strategy.
As Wright discusses, Negri’s account was
criticized as ultimately too abstract because it identified power as the
dimension linking all the social groups and practices referred to as
constituting the socialized worker; this emphasis had the effect of flattening
out differences between the different groups and practices. The redefinition of
the category of productive labour is problematic for the same reason.
Comment: There is no apriori reason to think
that Negri’s redefinition of “productive labor” involves any more of a
“flattening out” of differences than Marx’s redefinition against the classical
economists. To see how categories of labor, hitherto thought to have been
“outside” capitalism, had come to function within it does not mean to conflate
all kinds of labor that functions to reproduce and expand capital. More serious
is the issue of the degree to which
Negri, and his collaborators studied and drew useful conclusions from the
differences among various sectors of “productive labor”. His critics, such as
Sergio Bologna, argued that while recognizing such differences, their political
dimensions were often ignored and therefore important implications were not
taken into account.
Moreover, it led Negri to draw
over-optimistic conclusions as to the class composition resulting from the real
subsumption of labour to capital. The ‘socialized worker’ also seemed to change
over time. At first, the socialized worker characteristically referred to
precarious workers; later, as Negri’s perspective wavered with his
disconnection from the movement, it was embodied in the ‘immaterial worker’, as
exemplified by the computer programmer.[9]
Comment: Whatever one thinks of
the analysis Negri’s perspective did NOT “waver”. The theorization of the
immaterial worker (a term that I really dislike) was based on close study of
many sectors of work where workers were increasingly in control of their tools,
making more decisions than the mass worker - thus involved in mental labor as
well as manual labor - and finding their “off-the-job” creativity and imagination
being harnessed by capital on the job. The bulk of this kind of research by
those close to Negri was carried out during his exile in France and much of it
is published, and remains untranslated, in the journal Futur Anterieur.
The area of autonomy reached its zenith
with the Movement of 1977. However, it wasn’t just the well-documented massive
state repression, in the form of violence and imprisonment, that led to the
breaking of autonomia and the
collapse of workerism. The development of autonomia
and the emphasis on extra-workplace struggles went hand in hand with the
isolation of the radical workerists from the wider working class. It was this
isolation and hence pessimism in the possibility of a wider movement that led
many ultimately to end up back in the PCI - or to join the armed groups.
Comment: This is a highly
misleading simplification of the dynamics of the development and crisis of the
movement. Rather than pessimism there was much too much optimism - expressed in
part, but only in part, in the over-optimism mentioned in the preceding
paragraph - and a failure to deal with the issues of the armed groups, such as
the Brigada Rosa, and of the use of violence more generally. In retrospect the
BR was successful in its objective of “wiping out the middle” in the sense of
creating a public perception that the crucial political contest was one between
itself and the state. As a result, not only did the state win, hands down but
it was able to use the fear of BR terrorism to actually destroy the “middle”
including Autonomia.
The strategy of the Italian state
in using the terrorism of the armed bands to attack all of its opponents has
been more recently taken up by the US government in using fear of Islamic
terrorism to wage war abroad and to assault civil liberties at home. It remains
to be seen how successful it will be.
1.3 Cleaver’s account of the
working class
One problem often raised against the communist project
is that of the supposed disappearance of its agent – the working class. Marx’s conception of
revolution is said to be linked with a class structure that was disappearing.
This was a particularly pressing issue at the time Cleaver originally wrote Reading ‘Capital’ Politically, with
Gorz’s Farewell to the Working Class
and similar sociological analyses becoming fashionable. Cleaver offers a
response to this by suggesting that the working class is just changing shape
and is in fact everywhere.[10] For many of us, the most influential
aspect of Harry Cleaver’s Reading
‘Capital’ Politically is less his ‘political’ account of the relation
between value and struggles (which we discuss below) than his Introduction, in
which a history of movements and ideas is used to develop an ‘autonomist’
conceptualization of the working class in opposition to that of traditional
Marxism as well as to those who wanted to argue that the working class was
disappearing. (In fact, while Cleaver's book was photocopied and passed around
by loads of people, most people we know only read the Introduction!)
Comment: *Sigh* - as this
“review” attests.
Cleaver’s class analysis can be seen to
follow on from Tronti’s concept of the social factory and Bologna’s ‘The tribe
of moles’. Thus, in his account of developments in Italy, he suggests that the
struggles of non-factory workers - predominantly women in this case - both
embodied and clarified the new class composition (p. 71). ‘Community’ struggles
around the self-reduction of rents and food and utility prices, he suggests,
enabled these women participants to become more conscious of their own role in
value-production. Hence their own autonomous activity could be grasped as an
essential part of the class struggle, rather than being limited to the
auxiliary role of supporting the wage-based struggles of their menfolk. Cleaver
takes the Wages for Housework campaign as the highest expression of this
development.
In the new preface to Reading ‘Capital’ Politically, Cleaver (pp. 16-17) elaborates on
this account of the nature of class. Descriptively, an essential point here is
the extension of the category of the working class to cover not only the waged
but also the unwaged. Cleaver claims that this expanded definition is
justified by historical research (e.g. Linebaugh's The London Hanged[11])
which, it is suggested, shows in the political culture of artisans and others
that the working class predates the predominance of the wage. Conceptually, the crux of Cleaver’s
argument is in terms of a social group’s exploitation by, and hence struggles
against, capital.
Comment: Actually I don’t put it
like this because of the problem of the ambiguity of “exploitation”. The way I
put it is in terms of the capitalist imposition of work, resistance to it and
efforts to go beyond it. Waged workers are under constant pressure to work for
capital; unwaged workers are under constant pressure to work for capital. Both
struggle against that imposition and for alternative ways of being.
Moreover, the struggles of the social group
as such, rather than their subsumption within a general working class struggle,
are taken to be significant for their self-transformative potential. For
Cleaver, the ability of such social groups to re-create themselves in struggle
points to a problem with traditional (narrow) definitions of the working class,
which said nothing about this self-re-creation.[12] In line with the tradition of autonomia, Cleaver's account recognizes
resistance to capital as an inherent feature of the majority of humanity,
rather than - as in sociological and some Marxist accounts of Western class
structure - limited to the industrial proletariat.
Cleaver’s account of an ‘autonomist’
tradition of struggles and theories was important for us, as for many people
seeking an adequate account of class struggle in the 1980s and 90s. But,
re-reading Cleaver's definition of the working class now, and in particular the
social groups he seeks to include (as
social groups) within this definition, leads us to argue that his account is
not sufficient as a class analysis. The question is whether exploitation is a
feature of the social group he refers to as
such, and therefore whether resistance is inherent for the group as such.
Our argument is that there are differences and distinctions that matter within
and between the social categories that Cleaver identifies as part of the
working class.
Comment: The notion of “social
group” or “social category” which suddenly appears here is conjured up by the
reviewers. The real issue is not that of whether some (often ill-defined)
“social group” should or should not be classified as “working class” but to
recognize how a whole array of people in various unwaged situations find
themselves suffering the capitalist imposition of work and how their efforts to
resist it, and sometimes move beyond it, can rupture capitalist reproduction.
Wright argues that operaismo and autonomia
employ concepts which serve to flatten out and lose important differences and
distinctions in class analysis. Our point is that Cleaver is heir to this
tendency.
To flesh this argument out, let us consider
each of the social categories that Cleaver wants to (re-)define as part of the
working class.
Before doing so, however, we need to stress
here the inadequacy of playing the game of treating classes as categories into
which we place people. For us, class is not a form of stratification but a social relation; rather than attempting
to classify people we need to understand how class is formed, as a process,
within a relationship of antagonism.[13] It is true that individuals are situated
differently with regards the fundamental social relation of how labour is
pumped out of the direct producers (and that identities and perceptions of
interests linked with these identities can form around these situations). But
our argument with Cleaver’s (re)classifications is inadequate in its own right,
and needs to be read within a broader argument about class as a relation not
(just) a stratum.
Comment: This objection to
“classification”, to “playing the game of treating classes as categories into
which we place people” is one I share and one I have written about in
commentaries made available for many years now on the web site for my
undergraduate course on Marxian “Economics.” See in particular the commentary
on chapter two of Reading Capital Politically:
http://www.eco.utexas.edu/facstaff/Cleaver/357krcp2outline.html and the other materials on “class” at:
http://www.eco.utexas.edu/facstaff/Cleaver/357k.html
Because of this the “reviewers”
have essentially set up a straw man, and then proceed to attempt to shoot it
down. But as with all strawmen, the shooting ends up being irrelevant to the
real issues.
Cleaver states (p. 73):
The identification of the leading role of
the unwaged in the struggles of the 1960s in Italy, and the extension of the
concept [of working class political recomposition] to the peasantry, provided a
theoretical framework within which the struggles of American and European
students and housewives, the unemployed, ethnic and racial minorities, and
Third World [sic] peasants could all be grasped as moments of an international
cycle of working class struggle.
The unemployed
Organized unemployed struggles played a significant
role in the Italian experience of the 70s – the Neapolitan movement for example
was able to mobilize thousands of unemployed workers, becoming the region’s
central reference point for militant activity (Wright, p. 165). In these pages
and in other publications, we have given much attention to such struggles,
which for us are often over benefits, for the very simple reason that benefits
are the other side of the coin of the working wage[14] (and because we ourselves have relied on
benefits so much!). The unemployed are the lowest stratum of the proletariat -
the most dispossessed – and are likely to have a background in the working
class as such.
Comment: This reference to waged
workers as “the working class as such” is precisely the bias against which I
have written. A basic point of the Tronti and others’ work was to point out
that in Marx the process of reproduction includes the reproduction of the
working class both waged and unwaged. This is explicit in chapter 25 of volume
1 of Capital. in which the analysis of the expanded reproduction of
capital includes the reproduction of the “reserve army” of the unwaged.
In Capital Volume
1, Marx demonstrates that the unemployed are necessary to value-production.
Since they are defined as a category by their relationship to the wage, the
unemployed are obviously part of the working class.
comment: They are obviously part
of the working class not because of the way they are defined but because they
suffer the imposition of work: the work of looking for work, the work of
reproducing themselves and the rest of the class, and so on.
But Marx also makes clear how the unemployed function to
instil discipline in those in work and hence put ‘a curb on their pretensions’.[15] For traditional Marxism, the unemployed as
such cannot play the same role as the industrial working class; they lack both
the leverage and the potential for revolutionary class consciousness of those
in work. In this perspective, unemployed struggles must necessarily be reduced
to the role of tail-ending workers' strikes; any unemployed ‘autonomy’ could
too easily take the form of scabbing.[16]
However,
the functions of a social stratum for capital do not necessarily define the
limits of the subjectivity associated with it. Historically, it has often been
the least self-organized, or the least autonomous, among the unemployed who
have scabbed. The unemployed are, among those Cleaver cites, the social group
which can least controversially be defined as part of the working class.
‘Race’
In the case of ‘race’ and ethnicity, what is being
referred to here by Cleaver is the construction by capital of divisions within
the working class in order to create and justify competition amongst workers.
To the extent that ‘racial’ and ethnic identities are constructed, working
class organization itself is ‘racialized’ or ‘ethnicized’. In other words, it
is because racialization and ethnicity is part of way that class division is
constructed and the working class decomposed that people might use ‘racial’ and
ethnic identities as a basis for organizing against capital.
Comment: Yes & no. Yes,
capital “constructs” categories of race and ethnicity in ways designed to
divide and conquer. But “race” and “ethnicity” have realities that escape
capitalist manipulations and have formed the basis for self-definition and
self-determination against and beyond capital. It is not just because, let’s
say, Mexicans find themselves on the bottom of the wage/unwaged hierarchy in
Houston that they cluster and form “barrios” in self defence. It is also
because they speak the same language, because they come from the same villages
and because they want to craft communities within in which they feel
comfortable and can not only survive but enjoy life.
Blacks and those other ethnic minorities who organize
and resist autonomously do so because they, as a social stratum, experience
class more harshly, and are more often located at the proletarian pole of the
class relation; and this is because of the way ‘blackness’ and
‘whiteness’ have been socially constructed (in the USA). Those ethnic minorities which do not engage
in such autonomous action tend to be those that are more socially mobile; i.e. in
US terms they become ‘white’.
Comment: Once again, this
formulation ignores the positive side, or the dimension of self-valorization,
of such self-organization. It is not just such phenomena as Black Welfare
Rights Organizations - that fight back against terrible conditions of income
and reproduction - that is at issue but also the self elaboration of community
events, of specific cultural forms - blues, jazz, hip-hop, etc.
Particularly in the USA,[17] blacks are atypical of ethnic and ‘racial’
groups: always at the bottom of the pile, even in relation to other ethnic
minorities. Blacks are the prototype of the working class; and the black middle
class is the exception that proves the rule.
Women
The emergence of women as collective subjects of
social change contributed to a reassessment of operaismo’s class analysis (Wright, p. 133). In particular, women’s
demands for a universal social wage were seen to point to a solution to the
limits of the over-emphasis on the working wage (Wright, pp. 123, 135). Some in
autonomia, such as the Rosso group,
began to talk of the emergence of a ‘new female proletariat’; for them, along
with the unemployed, feminists were seen as integral components of the new
social subject – the ‘socialized worker’.
Likewise, for Cleaver, women are a key
example of a social category that, through their struggles, should be grasped
as part of the working class - in particular ‘housewives’ demanding wages for
their work of reproducing labour-power.[18]
Comment: The issue is not the
identification of “social categories” but of people in struggle. Moreover,
those housewives who demanded wages for their work have been only one
manifestation of the struggles of housewives more generally who have been
sometimes isolated and sometimes networked and sometimes coming together in
movements.
From our perspective, it is clear that it
is working class women - defined here in terms of the class position of their
family - who are more likely to be involved in such struggles. Better-off women
are less likely to need and want the ‘transitional demand’ of a wage, and can
achieve ‘autonomy’ individually (through pursuing a career) rather than needing
to organize collectively.
Comment: Given the earlier
remarks about the undesirability of “classification” this is a peculiar
statement. Here families are “classified” - assigned to some class, assigned in
an unexplained manner. What does it mean to speak of the class position of a
family? We are not told. Reference to “Better off women” suggests one approach
- classification by income. If that is the criterion then we have moved out of
Marxism into conventional sociology. Also the use of “autonomy” here it is at
the individual level, rather than at the level of movements - as in autonomy
from husbands, or autonomy from housework. There is a relationship between the
two levels of course but it is one that requires discussion and shouldn’t be
ignored. One of the main points of “autonomist” analysis is to clarify what is
meant by autonomy in various situations not to characterize all situations with
the same adjective and ignore differences. Mariarosa Della Costa and Selma
James’ book The Power of Women and the Subversion of the Community is a
good example of being specific about autonomy.
Moreover, the form through which women have
challenged exploitative gender relations has varied historically. The
identification and questioning of women’s roles that emerged in the 1960s was
part of a theorization and challenge to the reproduction of capitalist society
more broadly, and hence tended to be expressed as a movement of social change.
But, particularly since the retreat of the wider class struggle, feminism has
instead tended to be an ideology justifying either a reduction of the political
to the personal (with no link to social transformation) or a vehicle for middle
class women's careerism. Without being grounded in - rather than trying to form
the basis of - a class analysis, the emphasis of the struggles of women as
women inevitably risks this dead-end.
Comment: All struggles risk dead-ends. In the case of women’s
struggles there was a tension from the 60s on between women who were fighting
for greater career opportunities and those fighting for broader social
transformations - as well as for better income.
The notion of “the retreat of the wider class struggle” is
mystifying. What “retreat”? When? If the reference is to the end of the
“Movement” of the 1960s - then yes, that cycle ended. But did “class struggle”
“ retreat”? I don’t think so. As capitalist strategy shifted its emphasis from
counterinsurgency and cointelpro to the manipulation of money and prices,
deregulation and neoliberal economic policies more generally the character of
“class struggle” changed with it. But “retreat”? Better perhaps to speak of a
shift in initiative: from workers to capital.
The notion that it is better for women’s struggles to be “grounded
in” a class analysis rather than to be “forming the basis” for one is precisely
the kind of a priorism autonomists have written against. The point of
the analysis of class composition is to recognize changing patterns of struggle
and their implications for theory and then to use that theory within the
struggles. This is precisely what happened with the work of Mariarosa Della
Costa and her comrades and it is the reason why their theory was of interest
and of use when it was published.
Peasants
Cleaver’s inclusion of peasant struggles as part of
the working class differentiates him from statements in classical workerism.
Although the early workerists recognised that peasant struggles could
contribute to working class internationalism, they also suggested that the two
should not be confused, and that the ‘salvation’ of peasants ultimately lay
with their counterparts in the more developed parts of the world (Wright, p.
66).
To state that peasant struggles are in
effect working class struggles at least serves to convey something about the
social location of the peasant in a capitalist world and the consequences of
their actions for the broader class struggle. Despite not depending exclusively
upon a wage, peasants’ work is often commodified; the way they produce goods is
subject to the demands of the world market. Hence some peasants' attempts in
some sense to act like ‘the working class’ - i.e., collectively to resist
capital’s requirements.
Comment: Whew! Such a city boy’s
comment. The only peasants that I know of who “attempt” to “act like the
working class” (and this way of putting it shows the author doesn’t think that
they are part of the working class) are those who have learned Marxism-Leninism
(usually from urban activists).
Peasant struggles, like other
workers struggles, vary enormously with the class composition within which they
find themselves and which they struggle to transform. Where many members of a
peasant community are waged, part or full time, you will find behaviors that
used to be called those of the “agricultural proletariat”. In communities where
there are few wages of any sort and people live mostly on subsistence
production you will find different kinds of struggle. Where there are clear-cut
cultural traditions associated with particular linguistic and historical
practices you will find particular forms of struggle. Where these are lacking because
the communities were formed through migration and land seizure from diverse
communities you will find yet different forms of self-organization.
But Cleaver’s redefinition of ‘peasants’ as
part of the wider working class glosses significant differences within this
heterogeneous social category. The term ‘peasant’ covers a multitude of
economic positions: there are varying degrees of communal relations, varying
degrees of production for the market (versus for subsistence), varying extents
to which some are moving towards the capitalist class, and varying degrees to
which peasants engage in wage labour. It is for this reason that ‘peasants’ as
such do not act like and therefore cannot simply be lumped in with a broad
working class.
Comment: As my previous comment
demonstrates, and it derives from much that I have written elsewhere, this is
another attack on a strawman. I do not “gloss” over “significant differences”
among peasants anymore than I do among factory workers. The authors here
clearly accept the concept of working class although they are well aware that
“factory worker” “covers” a multitude of differences among workers. Well the
same is true with peasants and to use either term is not to gloss. To gloss
would be to ignore differences. But whether they read my stuff on, lets say
peasants in India or Chiapas, or that of my students, such as Ann Lucas de
Rouffignac’s work on Mexican peasant struggles or that of Ezielen Agbon on
Nigerian peasant struggles, or that of Ricardo Salvatore on Argentine gauchos,
it is obvious that the preoccupation is with the specificity of struggles not
with lumping them all together in some amorphous mass.
Even
if we take it that Cleaver simply means the majority of peasants who have no
chance of becoming capitalist farmers, there is nevertheless a logic to their
struggles which characteristically prevents them from constituting themselves
as the negation of capital.
Comment: this is concocted out of
the heads of the authors. Even the orthodox Marxist tradition, e.g., Lenin,
recognized the process of proletarianization, in which some peasants could not
become capitalists and fell into the category of waged labor and some could and
became agrarian capitalists. The comment about there being “a” logic to peasant
struggles shows that the authors are doing precisely what the accuse me
(falsely) of doing: providing a single glossing generalization about peasants.
The peasant is defined by a relationship to
the land, and land is characteristically the issue over which peasants
struggle. Given this, the successes of peasant struggles are also their limits.
Comment: peasants work the land,
they work their own, or they work the land of others, or they work communal
land. But they are far more than farmers. They live within communities with
specific histories, cultural practices, languages, shared mythologies, etc.
They also live in constant interaction with surrounding (often different)
communities and with the larger capitalist world. “Successes” of peasant
struggle may be won on many terrains, many of which are completely open ended.
Peasant struggles have not just persisted (against the expectations of many,
perhaps most, Marxists) because they have survived but because they have
thrived in dimensions that have escaped capitalist instrumentalization.
In the case of the wage, a quantitative success (more
money) preserves the qualitative relationship of alienation but can point to
its supersession: victory is still unsatisfactory but any setback for the
capitalist class may suggest the vulnerability of the capital relation itself.
But a victory in a struggle over land is an end in itself which thereby impels
no higher level of struggle. There is no essential imperative in land struggles
to abolish land ownership itself.
Comment: The fallacy of this
argument is clear to any who are familiar with peasant struggles. Just as a
successful wage struggle may (or may not) “point to its supersession”, so too a
successful struggle for land may (or may not) point to the supersession of capitalist
relationships. A victory in a struggle
for land is rarely “an end in itself” as the Zapatistas (and many other peasant
groups) have made clear: it is the means for many other ends. Those ends
include the ability to resist exploitation, to maintain or renew connections to
the earth and the cosmos, the ability to perpetuate/evolve social structures of
communal responsibility and rights, and so on. The reference to the absence of
an imperative to abolish land ownership can only reflect the old, general
Marxist vision of the abolition of private property. But land tenure conditions
for peasants vary enormously and peasant struggles over land often involve
efforts to preserve or re-establish communal property in land (the commons) as
well as to achieve or transform “private” land tenure relationships. I would
argue that it is much more common to find struggles over land than struggles
over wages threatening capitalist relationships but they are akin: both involve
the effort to have access to the material basis of life and of the elaboration
of that life: within or against and beyond the social factory. The old Marxist
slogan “Abolish the Wage System” was aimed at getting workers to think beyond
“more” money and more consumption to a different organization of society. It
has had a hard going because modern urban capitalist society is so thoroughly
shaped by capitalist commodification and instrumentalization (as the critical
theorists have pointed out so often and in such detail). Yet, workers have
often seen beyond (even if they never heard the slogan) and crafted new ways of
being that escape, at least temporarily, the logic of capital. And in vast
numbers of peasant communities there is a wealth of social relationships that
violate the principles of capitalism, bonds that go beyond the economic,
linkages that are dysfunctional for the subordination of those communities to
capitalist planning and are quite functional for struggles against it.
As we argued
in a previous issue of Aufheben,
while we might acknowledge the revolutionary subjectivity of peasant-based
struggles such as that of the Chiapas Indians, the peasant condition entails a
conservative stability in social relations.
Comment: The reviewers need to
study Chiapas more closely. When they do they will discover that it has more
often than not been in the new communities formed by migrants from other places
that the Zapatista movement was born and receives support. It is not some
abstract “peasant condition” (attachment to the land?) that gives rise to a
“conservative stability in social relations” but the particular political
history of particular communities. In Chiapas the greatest conservatism is to
be found in those communities most thoroughly infiltrated and dominated by the
PRIista power structure, i.e., the central political arm of Mexican capital for
the last 50 years. Moreover, even in those communities where we find a
“conservative stability” in such things as gender relations - usual in Chiapas
- we actually find intense conflict and the struggle of women against
patriarchy. The Zapatista “Revolutionary Women’s Law” originated in those
struggles and the demand by women for the Zapatistas to recognize and support
those struggles. The reviewers’ comments reflect an old view, common among anthropologists
for a long time that peasant communities are unchanging - and thus good objects
of monographic publication and career building. Today it is much more generally
recognized by those who actually interact with peasant communities (including
anthropologists) that those communities are involved in dynamic processes of
internal conflict and change.
Peasant resistance tends to reflect external threat
rather than internal class antagonism.
Comment: Again this view fails to
grasp the internal dynamics of peasant communities. It also tends to ignore the way waged worker struggles “reflect
external threats” - such as those by multinational corporations to move their
plants elsewhere, or state and national government policies that reduce workers
ability to struggle.
Consequently, the form of that resistance may often
entail alliances between small private farmers and those who depend on communal
landholdings – or even between a peasant mass and a leftist-nationalist and
urban-based leadership.[19] Thus, we do not see the resolution of ‘the
agrarian (i.e., peasant) problem’ simply in ‘autonomous’ peasant struggles,
nor, obviously, in the proletarianization of the peasantry; rather, with Marx[20] (and Camatte),[21] we might look to a revolution in which
peasant communal possibilities are aided by a wider proletarian uprising at the
heart of capitalist power.
Comment: Here is another
strawman. Those of us who insist on the autonomy of peasant struggles have
never, to my knowledge, argued that peasants can “win” - either in the sense of
overthrowing capitalism or even just surviving - all by themselves in isolation
from the rest of workers struggles! What much of my writing for the last few
years has emphasized is how the success of the Zapatistas in mobilizing support,
in Mexico and without, has enabled them to survive the vicious attacks of the
Mexican government and local large landowners and their goons. The same is true
with any other identifiable group of people in struggle. The power to resist
and supersede capitalism depends on the circulation of struggle among all of
those in struggle.
The notion, suggested above, that
there is a “heart” of capitalist power - presumably located in the developed
industrial heartland of the North - smacks of the old Trotskyist line put
forward by Ernest Mandell in debate with Maoist Martin Nicolas some decades
back. Nicolas’ “Third Worldism” that privileged the struggles of workers in the
South vs Mandell’s orthodoxy that privileged workers in the North - as these
authors seem to do. My work, and that of many others within the autonomist
tradition has sought to move beyond such privileging to study, and contribute
to, processes of a mutually reinforcing circulation of struggle across such
dividing lines. The Zapatistas have survived because of massive international
opposition to their repression by the Mexican government; the
anti-globalization movement was set in motion by the Zapatista Intercontinental
Encounter of 1996 and nourished on the Zapatista vision of “One No, Many Yeses!”
etc. The issue should not be “which struggles are the key (the vanguard?)” but
rather “how can we accelerate the circulation of struggles so as to strengthen
them all?”
Students
For workerist groups such as Potere Operaio (Workers’ Power), student struggles had to be
subordinated to those of factory workers. But student movements were a part of
both the Hot Autumn of 1969 and the Movement of 1977, and were important for
workerism’s attempt to theorize the proletarianization of intellectual labour.[22] One of the interesting developments of the
Hot Autumn was the appropriation of a faculty building at the Turin Medical
College for the purpose of a permanent general assembly.[23] The 1977 Movement involved practical
attempts to link workers and students both organizationally and in terms of
demands such as the generalized wage, which was seen as a way of enabling more
working class young people access to university.
Cleaver’s categorization of students as
part of the working class might be seen as somewhat prescient since the gulf
between university students and others in the labour market has narrowed in
recent years. As more students gain degrees, so the value of the degree
decreases and the jobs that graduates go into may often be no more privileged
or well-paid than those of their more basically-educated counterparts. Graduate
unemployment is higher now than ever.
Comment: Here the working class
status of students is made dependent on the wage and employment prospects of
students after graduation. My analysis - and that of some other “autonomists’”
- of the working class status of students is quite differently based. We argue
that students are part of the working class because of the work they do
producing and reproducing labor power (and to a lesser degree research and its
commodity products). Whether they are
unwaged (and in the absurd position of paying to work) or partially waged
(teaching assistants) or fully waged (fellowship recipients) they are all doing
the work of producing labor power. It is secondary that they are preparing to
do the work of making the labor market function by looking for jobs and then
the work of those jobs themselves.
However,
these are only tendencies. Students are overwhelmingly middle class in terms of
their family background (income, values and expectations) and their
destinations. In line with the notion of the social factory, Cleaver deals with
such considerations by defining students’ education as work to reproduce the
commodity of labour-power.[24] But
their work as students is more than, and different from, the simple
reproduction of just any labour-power.
Comment: There is no such things as “the simple reproduction of just
any labor power”. Not in schoolwork, not in housework, not in job market
search. The work of reproduction is as varied and complex as the work of
producing all the other (secondary) commodities of capitalism and involves all
kinds of manual and intellectual and emotional labor.
In the first
place, the end product of the work of the university student isn’t necessarily
skills at all but rather a qualification, the point of which is just to provide
access to more privileged occupations. What is being reproduced, therefore, is
hierarchy within the workforce – a division of labour to enhance competition.
Comment: Of course! And this is also true within waged labor of
commodity production. Waged workers don’t “just produce commodities” they also
produce and reproduce the hierarchical relations of work where they work - and
beyond. Those hierarchical relations are not maintained from the “outside” but
from the very structuring of work itself - that is much of what “management” is
all about.
This process is
also ideological to the extent that its beneficiaries internalize and identify
with the resultant hierarchical division – believing that they deserve their
privilege, and that only a talented and hard-working minority can achieve their
kind of status. Second, the ‘skills’ that are
reproduced through university education are not only those of supervision and
management, but also (for those graduating in the humanities and social
sciences) those of classifying, bullshitting and playing a role – all of which
don’t make sense outside of alienated social relations.
Comment: Again, the same is true within waged labor. Job hierarchies
are structured, and corporate culture maintains, an ideological dimension
designed to convince people that they belong where they are - until they prove
otherwise through job performance - and those who are promoted deserve it, etc.
Bad management is precisely that which maintains hierarchy in ways that violate
such ideology, e.g., favouritism, nepotism, etc.
The “reviewers” have a glorified idea of those who graduate from the
university. In the United States where a very high percentage of each age
cohort go to “higher” education, very few find themselves with significant
roles as supervisors and managers after they graduate. Most will be supervised
far more than they supervise and managed far more than they manage. The main
“skill” that is fostered at all levels of education -and is ignored in this
article - is that of being managed, of accepting discipline, of accepting
either to suppress one’s creativity and imagination or to channel it into
designated work tasks, of accepting a “life sentence at hard labor” whether
that labor be manual or mental, and thus a life of alienation.
In focusing on autonomy and its possible
consequences for capital, Cleaver's redefinition of student struggles as
working class therefore loses some important features of this social category.[25] It is an overly cynical point of view,
perhaps, to state that ‘student radicals’ mostly end up pursuing the same
well-paid establishment careers as their parents; but the moment of truth in
such a claim lies in the fact that there is no equivalent expectation for young
working class radicals mostly to end up becoming managers! Unlike students, the
young working class (in working class jobs) don't usually have the same choice.
Comment: Not only does my
analysis not lose anything that is mentioned here but it includes much that is
ignored. The curious reader can examine both the discussion of syllogistic
mediation in Reading Capital Politically and my various commentaries for
my courses. Moreover, as any of my students will be happy to explain, in the
classroom I spend far more time applying Marx’s analysis to school-as-factory
and students-as-workers than I do dealing with manufacturing factories that
most of my students have never seen or experienced and therefore in lectures -
dealing with virtually every aspect of Marx’s analysis of working class
struggles in the case of students. For a taste of this see my elaboration on
this subject at the end of this article and compare it with the reviewer’s
cynical dismissal of student struggle on the basis of their so-called “middle
class” origins.
It is an overly cynical point of view, perhaps, to
state that ‘student radicals’ mostly end up pursuing the same well-paid
establishment careers as their parents; but the moment of truth in such a claim
lies in the fact that there is no equivalent expectation for young working
class radicals mostly to end up becoming managers! Unlike students, the young
working class (in working class jobs) don't usually have the same choice.
Comment: The comments (not
cynical but snide) above about university students moving into higher paying
jobs does not constitute an argument against seeing students as workers. That
the struggles of the student movement created some jobs for activists as
professors doesn’t change the fact that as both students and professors they
were working, at least in part, for capital and are thus part of the working
class. What is implicit in these remarks by the authors is the old prejudice
that only poorly paid blue collar workers are really part of the working
class. This is borne out below.
Whatever happened to the
middle class ?
The ‘middle class’ is a label largely absent from Reading ‘Capital’ Politically, which is
because for Cleaver it largely doesn't exist, except perhaps sociologically. The
‘autonomist Marxist’ argument seems to be that, in conditions of the ‘social
factory’, the middle classes are just a sector of the working class.
On
the one hand, Cleaver's analysis again reflects real tendencies. In a number of
domains, middle class work has been de-skilled and proletarianized.
Casualization, once limited only to working class jobs, has now come to many in
the middle classes. Moreover, many salaries, particularly in the public sector,
have increasingly lost value over the past 20 years or so. At the same time,
the salaries of those at the top end of the middle classes, and particularly in
the private sector (e.g., accountants, lawyers and the various types of
‘consultant’), have continued to rise. Hence, as a shared identity assumed by
people whose conditions vary widely - from white-collar workers in insecure
jobs with salaries lower than their blue-collar counterparts, to executives and
senior managers - the ‘middle class’ as a whole is to say the least a problematic
category if not a mystification. In the USA, Cleaver’s home country, the term
is even more problematic due to the (self)description of large sections of the
(white) working class as ‘middle class’.
On
the other hand, to take these disjunctions, anomalies and tendencies to mean
that the category ‘middle class’ can be dispensed with is one-sided. The
analytic subsumption of most of the middle classes within the working class is
one-sided because it loses the explanatory power of the middle class as a category.
Comment: The preoccupation with
identity and self-perception in the above paragraphs reflects, I’m afraid, the
old preoccupation with “class consciousness”. The recognition of the changing
structure of work and of the existence of wage hierarchies does not. I have no
problem with dealing with concept of “middle class” as embraced by people who
think they belong to it; but for all the reasons given above it is more than
problematic, it is an ideological category and not useful for the analysis of class
composition - which is why I didn’t employ it in my book.
Here again, we would argue, Cleaver’s
analysis reflects the limits of the approach he is heir to. As Wright argues,
for all its vital contributions to our understanding of struggle, one of the problems
with autonomia and operaismo more broadly is the way it
misrepresents one tendency as standing for the totality. In the same way,
Cleaver misrepresents a particular tendency as a characteristic of the class
situation as a whole.
While
tendencies to proletarianization might push many of the middle classes toward
throwing in their lot with the working class, there are other features of the
middle class condition as such which operate in the other direction.
Comment: It is the authors here
who identify the working class with the results of the process of
proletarianization. I do not. I don’t talk about the tendency, nor do I
generalize it to the whole. It is an old concept associated with an old view:
that the real working class are waged factory workers.
What is absent from Cleaver's class analysis is an
acknowledgement of the ties that bind the middle class individual to his role
or class position and hence to the alienated world that gives rise to that role
and class position.
Comments: This is correct. I did not dwell on this in Reading
Capital Politically, nor have I dwelt on it elsewhere. And the reason why I
have not is because, in general, I have eschewed the discussion of “class
consciousness” in favour of an analysis of behaviour: of people’s struggles -
wherever they may be located within the wage/unwaged hierarchy.
One
feature which distinguishes the middle class from the working class, and which
has consequences for the possibility of revolutionary practice and
subjectivity, is the presence or absence of a career structure. While wages in
working class occupations typically rise to a relatively early peak and then
plateau off, middle class salaries more typically develop in continual
increments within which the middle class individual can foresee a future of
continually rising income and enhanced status. In effect, the longer she
carries on and sticks to the job, the relatively less interest the middle class
individual has in escaping since the greater comfort the job provides him or her.
Because the working class job typically provides no such prospect, the
imperative to escape remains a lifespan constant.
Comment: Even assuming the
correctness of these characterizations of the distribution over working lives
of income and expectations, I don’t see how they constitute an argument that
the “middle class” tends to be happy and (real) “workers” tend to be
dissatisfied (and thus more likely to be revolutionary). The argument assumes
an easy correlation between income and satisfaction that doesn’t hold up once
you factor in all the rest of what we know about alienation under capitalism.
Among other things the fact that higher income workers with the possibility
(but no guarantee) of promotion up a job ladder results in much more intense competition
and alienation among competing workers than that among lower income workers
with no prospects for promotion. Yes, such studies as Eli Chinoy’s of American
automobile workers show that they want “out” - to self-employment where they
can manage their own affairs - but that “out” is neither outside of capitalism
nor revolutionary per se, and moreover most fail and return to standard
waged jobs. The description of the “middle class” job prospects is also dated -
and recognized earlier in this article by the authors. Today there are few job
ladders, many more footstools and greater precariousness and insecurity and
anxiety. Ever since the “downsizing” movement in US industry in the 1980s it
has been clear, even to middle level managers, that jobs are not secure in the
higher reaches of the wage hierarchy. Hierarchy? Yes. Differentiate among
situations in the hierarchy? Yes. “Middle class”? No.
Second,
while pride in one's role can arise in many types of occupation, middle class
jobs often engender an identification of a type which is characteristically
absent in the case of working class jobs. Such middle class identification has
consequences for the form taken by resistance – and for whether resistance
takes place at all. The academic, social worker, lawyer etc. may wish to attack
capital but they characteristically do so by premising their resistance on the
continued existence of their own role in a way unthinkable to the working class
individual. Thus there are radical psychologists, radical philosophers, radical
lawyers and so on,[26] but not radical bricklayers or radical
roadsweepers! The latter are simply radical people
who wish to escape their condition.
Comment: I think this is romantic
fantasy, not to mention ignorance of working class history. That history
includes not only politically radical individuals but groups of workers whose
idea of revolution was taking over their means of production. Taking them over
and operating them! They were very much “radical” whatever-their-employment-was
workers. It also ignores the way in which radical psychologists, philosophers,
etc. have reconceptualized their jobs and their roles in society. An obvious
case is Ivan Illich’s work on “deschooling society” which involved the
diffusion of learning out of the school-as-factory throughout the society. Then
there is the anti-psychiatry movement with its extensive critique of the
institutions (and thus the jobs) of its profession. As a “radical professor” I
can testify to repeated discussion with students on alternative ways of
organizing learning that do NOT involve the preservation of my job. The
distinction drawn, I think, just doesn’t hold up. Sure you can find individuals
that embody the qualities described -academics who just want a higher place in
the academy - automobile workers who want out of work entirely. But you can
also easily find austomobile workers who just want higher wages; and academics
who work steadily at undermining the educational institutions in which they
work. (For more on this see my comments at the end of the article.)
By contrast, the former wish to engage in the struggle
while at the same time retaining their middle class identities, including their
specialized skills and roles. As such, their participation presupposes rather
than fundamentally challenges the institutions and social relations that
provide the basis of these identities.[27] It is no coincidence, it seems to us, that
the leading figures of a post-autonomia
scene which rejects (or at least neglects) the situationists' critique of roles
and academia, and which redefines all areas of life - including academia - as
working class, are themselves academics.[28]
Comment: More snide remarks, more
anti-intellectualism of classic vintage. It is the authors here who impute a
desire “to retain their middle class identities” to those they define as
“middle class.” That individuals may wish to continue to carry out the kind of
work they have been doing after the revolution (so to speak) is not confined to
“professionals”. Neither is the desire to do something else confined to blue
collar workers. All workers who struggle may or may not challenge the
institutions and social relationships within which they find themselves. The
category of middle class is not helpful here. What is helpful would be an
analysis of the existence and nature of critiques that have been made of
various jobs by the people who hold them. A survey of such critiques would
reveal, I think, that there are far more produced by people higher up the
wage/unwaged hierarchy than by those lower down. The reason is clear. It is not
that they are smarter, but just that they have more resources, including time,
to elaborate such critiques.
Some
groups, such as the professionals – doctors, lawyers, academics – who retain
control of entry into their profession, should obviously be defined as middle
class.
Comment: Why is this obvious?
Should we therefore define dockers who run hiring halls, or any closed shop
union situation “middle class”? I think not. Those who control entry do so to
defend their wage and position in the wage hierarchy. They do so for their
profession the same way workers in general have fought for, and sometimes
achieved, controls over immigration to limit competition and keep wages up in
the national labor force as a whole. These “professionals” play a dual role of
worker and manager within their own segment of the hierarchy. We need to
understand that dual role, but labelling it “middle class” does nothing to help
us understand it. Moreover, the power of academics and doctors is much more
limited than this description suggests. University bureaucracies make the final
determination of hiring and firing. Hospitals increasingly control in a similar
manner the income and job prospects of doctors (as they do of nurses and everyone
else in the “health” industry).
But there are other groups for which the situation is
less clear-cut. For the most part dealing with the thorny issue of class, and
in particular the status of the middle classes, is inevitable messy. This is
because class is a process not a box
into which we can simply categorize people, as in sociology.[29] In Argentina, for example, we are seeing a
process where middle class identity breaks down; but to understand this it is
necessary to recognise that such an identity exists and has a material basis.
As we see it, the problem with the way Cleaver flattens out everything into the
working class is precisely the absence of class composition and decomposition
as a process. Class (composition) involves a constant dynamic of
proletarianization and ‘embourgeoisment’. But if these poles are not recognized
– and if the middle classes are understood as already working class - class
composition appears only as a static given.
Comment: This is a gross
misrepresentation of what I have written. Not only have I opposed precisely the
kind of “classification” that the authors are here engaged in, but in my sketch
of the theory of class composition I have made it quite clear that the theory
includes both moments of political recomposition (workers struggles changing
the structure of power relationship in their favor) and decomposition
(capitalist power being exercised to change the structure of power in its
favour), i.e., as a dynamic process. The assertion here that “class composition”
involves a dynamic of “proletarianization” and “emboureoisment” is just the
same old orthodox Marxist formula for the gradual dissolution of the middle
class (peasants included traditionally) into waged workers or capitalists. If
such comments are not intellectually dishonest then they can only reflect
either a careless reading of what I have written - or not having read it at
all. Although the reviewers cite, in footnote 12, my article on “The Inversion
of Class Perspective” they seem oblivious here to the extensive discussion in
that article of the dynamics of the processes of working class political
recomposition and capitalist decomposition. They also ignore the discussion in
introduction to Reading Capital Politically - that they claim to have
read - of the Italian work on class composition, how it changed and the
implications for changes in working class organization.
1.4 Autonomy as basis or
function of working class composition?
As we have seen, Cleaver's fundamental point is that
the unwaged, and hence the other social categories he refers to, are part of
the working class only insofar as capital has sought to exploit and alienate
their unwaged labour or particular condition, and since these unwaged and other categories are now fighting back
against capital. It is their struggle
not their social category membership as such that makes them part of the
working class. Thus the key for Cleaver is autonomous action against capital.
As such, Cleaver is again consistent with
the tradition that has come out of workerism, which sought to distinguish
itself and go beyond the poverty of traditional Marxism through focusing on
precisely the independent or autonomous activity of workers in struggle; their
collective activity and organization of resistance was shown to occur without
the mediation of the party or union – or even in opposition to them. Antagonism
itself, in the form of autonomy, was thus the basis of class analysis.
Comment: This is unduly restrictive.
Although the reason I have characterized autonomist Marxism as “autonomist” is
because of the recognition and appreciation of the way workers can act
autonomously, that by no means implies that those who have had this
appreciation have believed that workers always act in this manner or that the
assumption of autonomy is the basis of class analysis. It has always been
obvious that in many instances workers have only reacted to capitalist
attacks and not taken any kind of autonomous initiative. “Class analysis” needs to recognize both kinds of
behaviour and understand when the one obtains and when the other, and why.
In the sixties, the workerists subsumed the
specificity of different working class locations and experiences to those of
the mass worker.
Comment: No. What was done was to
identify and analyse the specific characteristics of the “Fordist” “mass
worker” through an examination of the structure of work being implemented in
post-war Italy. The argument was that the “fordism” that Gramsci had identified
in the United States had finally come to Italy. Like the Johnson-Forest
Tendency in the United States and Socialisme ou Barbarie in France, the Italian
activists analysed the division of labor and the pattern of struggle in great
detail. They did not concoct a category and then “subsume” various workers to
it.
In the seventies, Negri’s work threatened
to dissolve even this partially concrete understanding of class into a generic
proletariat, the ‘socialized worker’. Bologna in ‘The tribe of moles’
identified new subjective determinations of class: ‘Classes have tended to lose
their “objective” characteristics and become defined in terms of political
subjectivity’.[30] For Bologna, questions of social and
cultural identity, of acceptance or refusal to accept the norms of social
behaviour required by the state, now played a role in the reproduction of
classes. These new determinants were said to be evidenced in ‘the continuous
reproduction and invention of systems of counter-culture and struggle in the
sphere of everyday living, which has become ever more illegal’.
In fact, Negri and others abandoned the
central investigative approach of the workerists – that of examining the
relationship between ‘material conditions of exploitation’ and ‘political
behaviours’.
Comment: A reading of Bologna
will show that there was no abandonment of the investigative approach at all.
His analysis of the “tribe of moles” delineates very material characteristics
of an increasingly precarious and mobile kind of working class at the heart of
a new kind of politics in Italy with no permanent institutions (such as
political parties or trade unions) but with the capacity for rapid and
widespread mobilization. At that point Negri did not do this kind of research
but was basing his theoretical generalizations on such work done by others. It
was precisely the very real “continuous reproduction and invention of systems
of counter-culture and struggle in the sphere of everyday living,” that Negri
theorized in terms of “self-valorization.”
As Wright discusses, the radical workerists
overemphasized the subjective, the ‘will of destruction’ (Potere Operaio, 1972, cited in Wright, p. 138), as judged, post
festum, from an analysis of the struggle rather than location in the labour
process. The abandonment of the material determinants of class composition
leaves unresolved the question of how the different subjects, or strata of the
class, recognize themselves and each other as proletariat, the universal
revolutionary class.
Comment: The “overemphasis” on
the subjective was not so much the problem suggested - of mutual recognition
(i.e., the acquisition of class consciousness) - as one of blindness to what
was going on beyond the sphere of movement politics. The rapid development and
circulation of struggle within the “tribe of moles” seems to have so focused
militants’ attention as to have made them oblivious to the broader class
composition - that would itself abandon the movement when the crackdown came in
1979. As Negri would admit latter they were so caught up in the intensity of the
immediate struggle as to lose perspective and set themselves up for a fall. And
they fell hard.
For us, the reason why different groups
organize autonomously against capital is because they are already proletarian
(or, at least, being proletarianized). Antagonism arises because of class.
Comment: No one has suggested
otherwise! The antagonism has always been said to be a “class” antagonism which
is one way the autonomist differs radically from the theory of “new social
subjects” that relegated class to one category of oppression among others. But
the argument about the autonomy of self-organization has gone beyond this.
Women, it has been argued, have come to organize autonomously form men in
certain periods because of the dynamics of gender relationships within class.
In the New Left of the 1960s in particular women rebelled against the
reproduction of the patriarchal gender hierarchy within the movement - in both
the collective moment of the movement and in the more individual relationships
among those active in that movement. Yes the antagonism derives from class; but
that antagonism takes specific forms according to the divisions and dynamics of
particular composition of class. The formulation offered by these authors here
ignores this dimension; the analysis of class composition does not.
It is implicit in our arguments above in
relation to the different social categories referred to by Cleaver that the
possibility of ‘autonomy’ may be necessary but it is not sufficient for a class
analysis. ‘Autonomy’ requires, and therefore cannot be the basis of, a proper
class analysis: the subjective requires the objective.
Comment: This is an orthodox
formula - “the subjective requires the objective” - that mystifies the issue.
As I have pointed out above, in every instance - whether of the unemployed, of
housewives, of students, of peasants - the argument that they are part of the
working class has been based on an analysis of, on the one side, the imposition
of work on them by capital, and, on the other, their struggles against that
imposition and for alternative ways of being. Debates among the folks that I
have called “autonomists” have revolved around the accuracy of the analysis and
the appropriateness of the political conclusions drawn from that analysis
For example: during the period of
the “tribe of moles” of the late 1970s there was a debate in Italy over the
so-called “diffused factory” as to what degree it was a capitalist plot to
dismember and control the large factory proletariat and to what degree it was a
capitalist adaptation to the growing refusal of young workers to go into the
big factories. That debate continued into the 1980s and drew upon both activist
research and mainstream economic and sociological studies (such as that of
Michael Piori of the “new” industrialization of northern Italy along the
Benetton model). Both Negri and Bologna contributed to that research (Negri
working on the “sentier” garment industry in Paris and Bologna working on the
transportation industry in Italy) and to that debate - taking quite different
positions. The accusation of an abandonment of concrete research on the class
composition just doesn’t hold. You can dispute their research results or the
conclusions drawn from them but you should not ignore the very concrete
research upon which they founded their conclusions.
It was a vital insight of workerism to see
workers’ refusal to participate in union-sponsored token strikes not as the
absence of class conflict but as evidence of their autonomy. In debates today
about the state of the class struggle, the danger is to take such ‘passivity’
as just a refusal of representation when it might in fact be doubled-edged: at
the same time as being an expression of hostility to capital it might also entail
a paralysing fatalism.
Comment: What history is being
referenced here? What “passivity”? The waged worker struggles in Italy in the
1950s that gave birth to autonomist research and politics were anything but
passive. They involved a very active, often violent, confrontation with the
union bureaucracy that was collaborating with capitalist development to the
detriment of workers. The development of other struggles in the larger social
factory also did not involve simple passive resistance but overt collective
resistance and new demands (the Civil Rights and Black power movements in the
US, the women’s movement, immigrant community mobilizations, youth movements
and so on). This characterization of “the vital insight” being a recognition of
the class character of passive resistance is totally bizarre.
However, a weakness of workerism was not an
exaggerated sense of the significance of workers’ autonomous antagonism not
only to capital but to the institutional left; rather it was an unwillingness
or inability to reconcile their insights with their conceptions of
organization. Time and again, the same theorists who provided us with the
theoretical tools for a new approach caution us to be modest in our
understandings of workers’ struggles. For example, Panzieri stressed that
sabotage merely expressed workers’ political defeat (Wright, p. 61); and Classe Operaia (‘Working Class’)
suggested that spontaneous struggles were not enough (Wright, p. 69).
Comment: What is described here
is not at all a failure to reconcile insights with conceptions of organization.
Quite the contrary. The study of actual struggles revealed both their nature
and their limits and the conclusions drawn concerned the need for organization
that would move beyond those limits. Because the analysis of the political
institutions such as the Italian trade unions and leftist parties revealed them
to be instruments of capitalist control, the Italian New Leftists sought, and
invented, alternative forms of organization - although sometimes falling back
into standard capitalist forms, e.g., parliamentary politics.
While we agree that different particular struggles
need to be linked up if they are to go beyond themselves, there is a crucial
question of the nature of this organization and how it may arise. For the most
part, the workerists tended to fetishize formal organizational structure in a
way which reflected their Leninist origins.
Comment: It would be nice to have
some evidence that “for the most part” workerists clung to formal organizational
structures - especially given their well known embrace of the view that
organization must change with the change in class composition, e.g., as spelled
out by Bologna in his famous article on workers councils. The two examples of
individuals given below hardly make a case for the behaviour of “most”
workerists even if we accept the characterizations given of their histories.
In the first place, there was for a long
time an unwillingness to cut the ties to the PCI. Thus, Tronti continued to
argue for the necessity of working within the PCI in order to ‘save’ it from
reformism. Tronti was not typical and ultimately abandoned workerism; but Potere Operaio too maintained links with
the PCI until the events of France 1968, and even then still saw itself as Leninist.
And Negri, despite having written about the contradiction within autonomia between those who privileged
‘the movement’ and the champions of a ‘Leninist’ conception of organization,
affirmed his commitment to the necessity of the Leninist Party even during the
events of 1977 (Wright, p. 214).
Comment: Tronti’s return to the
PCI, or the return of Lotta Continua to parliamentary politics, manifested the
failure to find or to accept alternative forms of organization. Negri was
always known as the most Leninist of the autonomists because of his continued
reference to the necessity of a workers’ “party” even tho he used this term
loosely, as Marx did, to refer to workers self-organization. He was NOT
committed to a Leninist Party in the usual sense of a Soviet-style communist
party of professional revolutionaries. The authors here would do well to read
his writings before making such statements.
In part, autonomia emerged as a grouping of militants who felt the need to
criticize Leninist forms of organization and practice (including the formal
party structure), placing emphasis instead on class needs:
Comment: This belies the previous
statement that “for the most part” workerists clung to formal organizational
forms and is a more accurate description of the general tendency of the
autonomist movement in Italy which, historically speaking, originated within
the Old Left and struggled to create a New Left of a different nature.
‘To articulate such needs, organization was
to be rooted directly in factories and neighbourhoods, in bodies capable both
of promoting struggles managed directly by the class itself, and of restoring
to the latter that “awareness of proletarian power which the traditional
organisations have destroyed”’ (Comitati
Autonomi Operai, 1976, cited in Wright p. 153). Ultimately, however, as
Bologna argued, autonomia failed in
this regard, reverting to a vanguardism which forgot that ‘organisation is
obliged to measure itself day by day against the new composition of the class;
and must find its political programme only in the behaviour of the class and
not in some set of statutes.’[32]
Comment: Those who failed in this
regard, and reverted to vanguardism were mainly those elements of autonomia
organizzata that took on aspects of the behaviour of the armed bands.
Bologna’s comments were aimed against such tendencies and there typical of
those elements of autonomia who did not succumb to this tendency. The
above characterization recognizes no such splits and thus oversimplifies and
fails to understand the differences within the struggle.
Despite their attempt to escape the
‘political’, the workerists themselves were in fact caught up in a politicism,
in that they both constantly tried to express the social movement’s needs in
terms of unifying political demands
and were forever trying to reinvent the party. Although they innovated in some
ways, with ideas like the armed party, their conception of organization
remained Leninist in its fetishism of formal organizational structure, and
showed little sense of Marx’s quite different conception of the (historical)
party.[33] As such, a proper critique of the left and
of leftism was still not developed. This problem is reproduced in current
versions of the workerist approach.
Comment: Understood in Marx’s loose
sense, “the party” - see footnote - must be reinvented just as Bolgona was
suggesting in the quote above. The emphasis on “political” demands was a search
for ways to formulate concrete demands that made their political/class content
and implications explicit. The suggestion that autonomia “innovated” the armed
party is bizarre. That was an integral part of Leninism since early in the
century. It was the embrace of this old approach that led to BR terrorism and
set up the whole movement for state counterattack and decimation. This whole
characterization of autonomia as unable to move beyond Leninism seems to be
based on a preoccupation with one tendency while ignoring all the other
countervailing ones.
Our argument is that, if the concept of
autonomy is insufficient for a class analysis, it is also inadequate - in the
sense of being too open or ambiguous – for a critique of leftism. Whose
‘autonomous struggle’ is it? The emphasis on autonomy itself, and the
consequent absence of an adequate critique of the left, has meant that some of
the inheritors of the tradition are uncritical of nationalism.[34]
Comment: The question “whose
autonomous struggle is it?” has been answered again and again with concrete
analysis of particular struggles and their linkages. The “emphasis on autonomy”
has not been abstract, as it is presented here but throughout the history of
“autonomist Marxism” it has been very concrete: from the councilist
preoccupation with the very historical reality of soviets and workers councils
to the post war focus on struggles that operated outside, and often against,
the formal organizations of the class. The charge of being “inadequate” is
cheap; any concept or argument can be found to be incomplete in some sense and
therefore “inadequate”. The concept of autonomous struggles draws our attention
to the way various groups of workers have taken the initiative and moved beyond
the efforts of either capital or their official “leaders” to organize their own
struggles. It does not pretend to do more than that. What seems to be happening
in this article is the representation of “autonomy” as a fetish - which it has
not been - and then that fetish is critiqued. This is intellectual slight of
hand.
Cleaver (p. 25) states ‘The [Vietnam]
antiwar movement joined many of these diverse struggles, and its linkage with
the peasants of Southeast Asia became complete with the slogan of “Victory to
the NLF [National Liberation Front]” and with the flying of Vietcong flags from
occupied campus buildings.’ In relation to this, the idea of
‘circulation of struggles’, which refers to how struggle in one area inspires
that in another, certainly described something of the social movements of the
60s and 70s (though we’d also have to acknowledge the reverse process whereby defeat
of one section after another discouraged the rest).
Comment:
The idea of the circulation of struggle has gone hand in glove with that of
“cycles of struggle”, i.e., periods of political recomposition in which the
working class is on the offensive and periods of decomposition when capital
counterattacks. The latter often involves defeats which may involve the
circulation of discouragement, or may involve the renewed circulation of
struggle to counter those defeats. Which effect dominates can not be decide a
priori but depends upon historical circumstances. As an example, many of
those involved in countering capitalist attacks against the Zapatistas were
also involved in trying to prevent the state murder of Ken Saro-wiwa, the Ogoni
spokesperson in Nigeria. The failure to prevent his murder circulated not
defeat but renewed efforts to prevent such occurrences in Mexico.
But
such a concept is inadequate in itself if it means, for example, that the
struggles of the Vietnamese peasants are considered without referring to the
nationalist and Stalinist frame in which they took place, and if it means
treating uncritically the way that an anti-imperialist ideology dominated the
minds of the students (i.e. they tended to see the western proletariat as
irretrievably ‘bought off’ and themselves as a front for the ‘Third World’).[35]
Comments:
This is a typical example of the cheap use of the accusation of “inadequacy”.
What was at issue the international circulation of the struggles of Vietnamese
peasants was their resistance to French, then Japanese, then French, then US
capitalist efforts to exploit the people of that country. American students
involved in the anti-war movement were aware of, and except for the Maoists
among them, had no use for the Stalinism of the communists in Vietnam. What was
supported was the resistance and the notion of self-determination. To think
that that resistance was “framed” by the Stalinism of Vietnamese communists
suggests an unfamiliarity with either its breath and grassroots character - it
was not reducible to its representation by the Communist Party. The students
were involved in their own struggles against that same capitalism at home and
studied the linkages between the two areas of class conflict. That was enough
for support. It was not enough if the objective was to develop a critique of
the communism of the North Vietnamese government. The existence of post-1975
critiques of Vietnamese communism, such as the the article by Philip Mattera in
the second issue of Zerowork (1977) demonstrates the understanding of
the problems of state capitalism just as earlier work by, say, the
Johnson-Forest Tendency of the Soviet Union and China demonstrated such
understanding.
As for
the tendency within the anti-war movement to see the US working class as bought
off and to embrace Third Worldism, this was something cultivated by the Monthly
Review editors and writers (Baran & Sweezy & Magdoff, etc.) who
were probably the most influential Marxists in the US in the 1960s. This
critique, however, is not applicable to those “autonomist” Marxists that I have
referred to such as those around the Johnson-Forest Tendency, Facing Reality,
News & Letters, etc. My comments on the anti-war movement concerned only
the issue of the international circulation of struggle. They did not pretend to
a comprehensive analysis of that movement. To critique those comments for not
providing such an analysis is disingenuous.
Harry
Cleaver’s ‘autonomist Marxist’ treatment of leftists and nationalists is
reflected currently in his uncritical attitude to the Zapatistas.[36] In Cleaver’s texts there isn't a proper
critique of the role of leftism and nationalism in struggles because such
expressions are considered - equally with the struggles of ‘housewives’,
students, the unemployed and the industrial proletariat - moments of autonomy
to the extent that they appear to challenge the capitalist strategy of imposing
work within particular national and international frameworks. Any criticism of
nationalism in struggles, as in the case of Zapatistas, is dismissed by him as
ideological or dogmatic.
Comment: I would like to see some concrete
citation of my dismissing “any critique of nationalism in struggles”? This is
fantasy. As I have tried to make clear, the Zapatistas’ “nationalism” was born
from the concreteness of their political project: survival and indigenous
autonomy within Mexico. From the beginning the Mexican government tried to
present them as separatists and evoked the horrendous spectre of the ethnic
cleansing of the Balkans to whip up public support for their repression.
Against this the Zapatistas flew the Mexican flag at their meetings and
repeatedly asserted that they were fighting not to separate from Mexico but to
achieve rights and autonomy within it through constitutional changes and
changes in the behaviour of government agencies. However, alongside this
ostensible “nationalism” has gone an internationalist practice and repeated
denunciation of the artificiality of national borders and the need to link
struggles across them - the only meaningful “internationalism.” Most of the
critiques of Zapatista “nationalism” have indeed been ideological and dogmatic,
based not on an assessment of the situation in Mexico or the Zapatista
political practice but on an a priori rejection of anyone who doesn’t
explicitly and abstractly denounce nationalism. I haven’t found such critique
either useful or revealing of anything other than the ideological biases of the
critics.
Given their necessary antipathy to the
project of the negation of capital, the ‘autonomy’ of leftist and nationalist
tendencies must mean their subsumption and indeed crushing of proletarian
autonomy!
Comment: This is precisely the kind of
fantastic aprior nonsense I was referring to. After defining
“leftism” as capitalist, they deduce that leftism has a “necessary antipathy”
to the negation of capitalism. Duh. To accuse me, and those in the tradition of
autonomist Marxism, of an “antipathy to the project of the negation of capital”
is beyond belief. It shows either an utter ignorance of the whole tendency or a
willingness to consciously misrepresent what is and has being said and done.
And what is this “nationalist” tendency? Does it refer to national liberation
struggles of the old Marxist-Leninist variety? If it does, that has been
repeatedly critiqued, not least by the Zapatistas (despite the fact that the
call their army the Zapatista Army of National Liberation). To argue that the
Zapatistas have crushed proletarian autonomy, i.e., the autonomy of the indigenous
communities in Chiapas, is absurd.
This analytic gap, through which the forces
inherently opposed to working class self-organization can emerge as equivalents to that working class
self-organization, appears to be a function of the failure of the autonomia tendency to make quite the
radical break from Leninism which is sometimes claimed for it, and which
Cleaver has inherited (despite the fact that, unlike Negri, he has never
endorsed any party).
Comment: To be accused of
Leninism can only make me laugh and I hope it also amuses many other
“autonomists”, i.e., those whose work and political activity include the
recognition and appreciation of workers ability to take the initiative in
struggle. I quite explicitly denounce Leninist approaches to organization and
to “socialism” in this book that is supposedly under review. But that is
neither recognized nor dealt with here. The “review” has devolved into a rant
with no basis in any text..
At its worst, far from being an alternative
to a leftism in which political representation and nationalism are supported as
vehicles of ‘revolution’, ‘autonomist Marxism’ can end up being just another
variety of such uncritical leftism. While they may reject the idea of the
formal party, the ‘autonomists’ still seek to formulate political demands for
autonomous struggles in a similar way to the leftists.
Comment: And what is its “worst”?
Steve’s book? My writing? Where have I “formulated political demands” in “a
similar way” to capitalists? I find these aspersions so vague as to have no
meaning beyond revealing the sectarianism of their authors.
3. Negotiating the ‘law of value’
A further workerist tension reproduced in Cleaver’s
book is that surrounding the status of the ‘law of value’.
Comment: It’s hard to see how my
book could reproduce “a tension” surrounding the status of the “law of value”
when it never makes use of such a construct. Throughout the history of Marxism,
not just in workerism, the term “law of value” has been so loose and
variegated, so contradictory and used in reference to so many different
phenomena, not to mention used again and again with absolutely no clarity about
what the author is refering to, that I have systematically eschewed all use of
the term. What Reading Capital Politically does -and the reviewers here
ignore - is give an interpretation of Marx’s concept of value, of its
substance, magnitude and form, arguing that all of its determinations that Marx
discusses are actually determinations, or aspects, of the antagonistic class
relations of capitalism.
On the one hand, the very emphasis on workers at the
sharp end of the immediate process of production appears to speak of a
commitment to the centrality of value-production in the explanation of the
dynamic of class struggle. On the other hand, the seeds of a revisionist
approach were sewn as early as 1970, when Potere
Operaio argued that class struggle had broken free of the bounds of
accumulation; the mass worker was said to have disrupted the functioning of the
law of value, forcing capital to rely more and more on the state (p. 137). Potere Operaio cited the Hot Autumn as
the turning point, but their analysis was prompted by a revolt in the second
half of 1970 among the population of Reggio Calabria against proposed changes
to the city’s regional status which seemed to speak of a widespread violent
rejection of the institutions. This line of reasoning was developed by
Negri, who was led by his understanding of the crisis as a product of class
antagonism to argue that the law of value was being superseded by relations of
direct political confrontation between classes,[37] and
that money now needed to be understood in terms of its function as ‘command’.[38]
Comment:
My rejection of
Negri’s notion of the capitalist surpassing of value was laid out in an article
on Negri and Offe called “Work, Value and Domination: On the Continuing
Relevance of the Marxian Labor Theory of Value in the Crisis of the Keynesian
Planner State (1989) available at url: http://www.eco.utexas.edu/
facstaff/Cleaver/offenegri.html A
more recent affirmation of the same thesis is “Work is Still the Central
Issue!” (1999) available at url: http://www.eco.utexas.edu/
facstaff/Cleaver/workiscentralissue.htm.
One of my central objections to Negri’s view of these matters is his notion of
value-as-command as something new. The main thrust of Reading Capital
Politically is that value has always been a concept that denoted
labor-as-command in capitalism, that the “labor theory of value” is a theory of
the role of labor as the fundamental form of capitalist command. One of the
reasons for my eschewing the concept of “law of value” is that in many of its
interpretations (explicit or implicit) value appears as a obscure social force
that mysteriously regulates markets, the economy and society. This formulation,
to my mind, utterly mystifies value as command-through-work and refocuses our
attention away from the central substance of class antagonism to secondary
critiques of the market and of economics for not seeing what lies behind them.
Subsequent to
this, a distinctive feature of
those influenced by the autonomia
tradition is the stress on the class struggle as a struggle not in relation to
value but for control over work:
imposing it or resisting it.
Comment: Resistance to, or the
refusal of, work - a central theme of contemporary autonomist thought - is
quite different from “control over work”, either in the sense of the ways
workers act to control the labor process within capitalism, or in the sense of
the revolutionary objective of the Old Left of taking over the means of
production. Moreover, with value
understood as a concept denoting the capitalist use of imposed work to command
society, the dichotomy between the struggle against work and struggles “in
relation to value” perceived by the reviewers completely disappears. The
struggle against work is a struggle against value - against the most
fundamental vehicle for the capitalist organization and control of society.
A major
thrust of the whole American ‘autonomist’ scene has been to argue not to follow
Negri too far. But it seems to us that Cleaver’s attempt to both embrace
certain post-autonomia and
‘heretical’ ideas that go ‘beyond Marx’ while at the same time claiming
fidelity to Capital gives rise to
ambiguities in relation to this question of value.
Comment: I do not claim “fidelity” to Capital, only that I
have found a interpretation of much of its basic theory that makes sense to me.
These are quite different things.
Thus,
on the one hand, Reading ‘Capital’ Politically suggests, at least in a footnote, that
control is always tied to value; and in the second edition of the book,
against those (‘autonomists’) who forget, Cleaver re-iterates that the labour theory of value is the
‘indispensible core’ of Marx's theory (p.
11). On the other hand, throughout
Reading ‘Capital’ Politically, food and energy (Cleaver's main examples)
appear essentially as means to struggle for control itself rather than
value-producing sectors; and work appears as a means of control in its own right:
the ultimate use-value of the work, which is the use-value of labour-power, is its role as the fundamental means of capitalist social control. For the capitalist to be able to impose work is to retain social control. But the use-value of labour-power for capital is also its ability to produce value and surplus-value. (p. 100)
The use
of the word ‘also’ seems indicative of the relative weighting given to control
over value as an explanation for the dynamics of class struggle.
Comment: No. The whole point was that these are the same thing;
value is social control. The use value of labor power is “also” its ability to
produce value and surplus value only in the sense that these are two ways of
talking about the same thing. The book argues systematically - and not just “in
a footnote” - that the substance of value is work, work as social control.
We accept that, although capital essentially treats all use-values as arbitrary sources for valorization, capital cannot be unconcerned with the particularities of use-values. Thus Cleaver is right, for example, to point back to the moment of primitive accumulation where capital creates the working class by driving peasants off the land and thus their source of food. Moreover, with contemporary features like the Common Agricultural Policy and similar measures in other countries, it is true that the special use-value of food (and the political significance of classes engaged in food production) has led to it being perhaps more subject to strategic planning measures by capital-in-general in the form of the state and supranational bodies.
Retrospectively,
however, it now appears to us that the politicization of the prices of food and
energy – their appearance as manipulated instruments of struggle between self-conscious
capitalist and working class subjects – was a particular feature of the crisis
conditions of the 1970s (e.g. the energy crisis and the focus on inflation
state intervention in bargaining between the working class and capital).
Cleaver, like others in the post-autonomia
tradition, uses these historically specific moments in the class struggle to
make generic points.
Comment: Yes, the use of increases in food and energy prices in the
1970s to undercut the real wage, etc., was historically specific. But the more
general argument about the political character of money and prices is quite
independent of that history. It is based on the political reading I have done
of the labor theory of value, especially that of the general and money forms of
value discussed in part 3 of chapter 1 of volume 1 of Capitaland in
chapter 5 of my book - a discussion that is ignored in this so-called “review”.
In the
present period, there has been a ‘depoliticization’ of these price issues in
conditions of low inflation; and the ideological model has been that ‘there is
no alternative’ to the ‘globalized’ market.
Comment: I fail to see how low inflation involves a
“depoliticization” of prices. On the contrary, the consistent use of monetary,
and other, policies to hold down prices (especially wages) is about as
political an act as you can imagine. The rise of the neoliberal worship of the
market first began to take center stage alongside monetarism in the late 1970s,
i.e., the use of monetary policy to attack wages, and both have remained
co-actors on the capitalist stage ever since. Moreover, the monetarist use of
tight money to attack “inflation” (almost a euphemism for wage increases)
beginning with Carter’s unleashing of Paul Volcker at the Fed in the late 1970s
can be seen as a response to the failure of the use of inflation as a strategy.
In the US in the 1970s workers were able, on the average, to raise money wages
almost as fast as prices increased thus defeating an attempt to substantially
lower real wages. Their ability to mobilize enough power to divert petrodollars
from capitalist investment to the support of consumption also undermined that
aspect of the capitalist strategy of that period. Looking back to earlier the
Keynesian period, the capitalist use of monetary (and fiscal) policy to keep
wages within the bounds of productivity growth was every bit as political as
the more dramatic developments of the 1970s
As we have argued in these pages before, there
is a problem with the abandonment of the law of value by theorists identifying
with autonomia.[39] On our reading of Marx, and our
understanding of capital, capital as a whole comes to constitute itself as such
out of disparate and indeed conflicting elements. The conceptualization of
capital as a subject in conflict with the working class subject, each with
their distinctive strategies (‘imposition of work’ versus ‘refusal of work’),
which Cleaver ultimately shares with Negri,[40] if taken as more than a shorthand or
metaphor, suggests an already-unified capital.
Commentary: Which I share not
just with Negri but with Marx. Capital is replete with characterizations
of capital as a whole as subject. The personification of capital is used to
talk about its dominant ways of thinking and policy making in particular periods
(see especially the historical discussion in sections 5 and 6 of chapter 10 of
Volume I.) It is not just a shorthand or metaphor; it is a way of highlighting
those ideas and practices that are guiding capitalist strategy at a point in
time or period.
Capital as a subject can have a strategy only to the extent that there
is a (price-fixing) conspiracy among the different capitals or that one particular capital (who? US
capital? The World Bank?) agrees to act as capital-in-general in the same way
that a national government acts for the national capitalist interest. Capital
as a totality of course has its interests;
but these – all founded on the need to exploit the working class as hard as
possible - arise from and operate precisely through its conflicting elements:
the competition between individual capitals. Capital may attain more
consciousness at times of heightened class conflict, and this consciousness may
become institutionalized. But capital is not essentially a conscious subject.
Comment: This both admits and
denies the obvious in one breath. What is capital? Obviously it is not a
zeitgeist, or over-mind; it is a way of organizing society. But that way of
organizing society has what Marx called its “functionaries” - those whose work
is the work of imposing and maintaining the imposition of this way of
organizing society. And those “functionaries”, be they corporate executives or
politicians or bureaucrats at the International Monetary Fund, are quite
conscious about what they are doing and thinking. They have strategy; they have
many strategies - which are often in conflict and competing - both at the level
of inter-firm competition and at the level of more general policy making. But
in each period some dominate and others are marginalized. And it seems to many
of us that it is extremely useful to be clear about what those dominant
strategies are and how they threaten us, in order to struggle against them. As
a result some our work is devoted to understanding those dominant strategies
and changes in them. To refuse to recognize this phenomenon in favour of a
focus on the competition among private capitalists is to cripple one’s ability
to understand, and thus to come to grips with, the coherence of capitalist
strategy and policy at any point in time.-
4. Grasping retreat
Tronti famously argued that each successful capitalist
attack upon labour only displaces class antagonism to a higher, more socialized
level (Wright, p. 37). Following this, Negri, Cleaver and others in and
influenced by the autonomia current
stress the role of working class struggle in driving capital forward. Working
class activity is seen not (just) as a response to the initiatives of capital
but as the very motor of capitalist development - the prime mover.[41] In this account, capitalist crisis - the
shutting down of industries, mass unemployment and austerity - means that
working class struggle simply changes form rather than retreats. Class struggle
is argued to be ubiquitous and manifold in form.
Comment: True that as Marx argued
the working class as living labor (and more than living labor) is the lifeblood
of dead labor (capital) in a dynamic sense. Not true that autonomist theories
of crisis don’t recognize defeat. The theory of cycles of struggles very much
recognizes upswings in struggle, capitalist counter offensives and downturns -
that may well involve defeats. This is an integral part of the theory of class
composition as mentioned before.
This
perspective therefore offers a valuable corrective to traditional Marxism's objectivist
account of the workings of capital. Traditional Marxism’s frozen and fetishized
conceptions of class struggle could lead one to wonder where resistance has
gone and whether it will ever reappear. By contrast, ‘autonomist Marxism’ finds
it everywhere.
However,
we would suggest that workerism in general and Cleaver in particular perhaps
bend the stick too far the other way. In arguing that class struggle is
‘everywhere’ and ‘always’, there is the explanatory problem of the evidence of
historical retreats in class struggle, as well as the ‘political’ problem of
responding to this retreat in practice. These problems are linked.
Comment: class struggle is
“everywhere” and “always” only in the sense that capital is a social
relationship of class, of class antagonism and class struggle. To recognize
this cause no more “explanatory problem” in dealing with “historical retreats” or “political problem” of
responding than any other theory. What needs analysis, and the theory of class
composition and cycles of struggle provide a framework for such analysis, are
the changing content and forms of struggle over time.
4.1
Confronting the evidence of decomposition
In positing the ‘unity of abstract labour’ as the
basis for the recomposition of the class, Negri almost welcomed the
‘disappearance’ of the mass worker and believed the defining moment of
confrontation was approaching: ‘At the very moment when “the old contradiction”
seemed to have subsided, and living labour subsumed to capital, the entire
force of insubordination coagulates in that final front which is the
antagonistic and general permanence of social labour’.[42] At a time which could arguably be
characterized as the beginning of capital’s counter-offensive of restructuring
which resulted in a decomposition of the class, he gave an account of a massive
process of recomposition – a qualitative leap in class unity. Wright (p. 167)
concludes that this account did not match up to Italian experience of the time.
There appears little evidence of the concrete unification between sectors upon
which Negri’s whole argument rested; the fierce industrial struggles in the
small factories of the North were cut off from other sectors of the class.
Wright suggests that, in 1975-6, it was proletarian youth circles rather than
the factory struggles that were making links across the wider working class.
The workers of the large factories were in a state of ‘productive truce’ at
best, rampant defeat at worst – and subordinate to the official labour
movement, which had regained control in the factories after the explosion of
autonomous struggles in 1969 and the years after. The unions’ commitment to
tailor labour’s demands to the requirements of accumulation was mirrored in the
political sphere by the PCI’s ‘historic compromise’ with the ruling Christian
Democrats. The historic left, PCI and CGIL were committed to the ‘management’
of the nation’s economic difficulties.
Bologna
(1976, cited in Wright, pp. 170-1) accused Negri and autonomia of ‘washing their hands of the mass worker’s recent
difficulties’. He argued that there had been a ‘reassertion of reformist
hegemony over the factories, one that is brutal and relentless in its efforts
to dismember the class left’. Negri had failed to come to terms with the
disarray and defeat of the mass worker and preferred instead to ‘ply the
traditional trade of the theorist in possession of some grand synthesis’. The Comitati Autonomi Operai, the Roman wing
of autonomia, also rejected Negri’s
optimistic vision, and criticized his lack of an empirical basis for his
abstractions, something which had been so important to the earlier workerists.[43]
Comment: Finally a recognition
that Negri was only one figure within the Italian New Left, and one whose
analysis, though influential was often critiqued by others. If the authors kept
this in mind they would not use Negri as the basis for many of their
generalizations about autonomia or workerism.
In the intervening quarter of a century,
little has happened, it seems to us, to bear out Negri’s optimistic prognosis.
The mass worker has been decomposed through the flexibilization of labour,
territorial disarticulation of production, capital mobility in the world
market, the rationalization of production, decentralization; but the
‘socialized worker’ that has supposedly emerged from the ashes of the mass
worker has not been visible as a new universal proletariat capable of
fundamentally challenging the capital relation. Decomposition just is decomposition sometimes, rather than
necessarily being itself a recomposition.
Comment: Decomposition as such,
as capitalist counter-attack aimed at restructuring the class relationships of
power in its own interests has not been confused with political recomposition
as suggested here. The theory of the mass worker was a theory of how Taylorism
and Fordism decomposed the old skill-based organization of work and how those
deskilled workers learned to reorganize (politically recompose) themselves in a
new way across industries rather than across skills, and then across the
unwaged as well as the waged. There has been no confusion about this that I am
aware of. Negri’s writing sought to understand the crisis of the mass workers -
a crisis that derived partly from its own processes of political recomposition
beyond its status as mass worker and party from capitalist attempts at
decomposition. One can critique his emphasis on the former and neglect of the
latter, as the above cited authors have done, but attention to both is always
necessary.
One of the basic notions of
autonomist theory -discussed above - that living labor drives dead labor, that
capitalist development is an adaptation to working class struggle implies that
even in the process of decomposition, capital still needs to find direction.
How should it seek to decompose the threatening level of working class power in
ways that restore its control and permit continued accumulation? What Negri has
suggested its that it finds its new direction precisely in the processes of
political recomposition that threaten its old methods of control. That is what
it means to “adapt” - thus his notion that increasingly capitalist strategies
of development have been based on those working class subjectivities that have
moved beyond the mass worker. To the degree that this is true - and on the
whole it must be true or capital cannot over come the crisis of its loss of
control - decomposition is not just decomposition. The only kind of
decomposition that I can think of that seems to be purely destructive of
working class power is slaughter. But capital cannot be capital (a form of
social organization) if it wipes out the working class, so slaughter is always
limited (as in the bloody repression of strikes and rebellions and in wars) and
always followed by attempts to reorganize the labor force in a better
controlled and more productive manner - and thus even this form of
decomposition involves some kind of effort to re-compose the working class. On
this subject we have an excellent case study unfolding in Iraq: a slaughter now
being followed up by the quite conscious capitalist reorganization of that part
of the Persian Gulf oil producing proletariat. Such processes in the period
following the first Gulf War have been analysed by the Midnight Notes
collective in the opening essays of their book Midnight Oil.
The ‘autonomist Marxism’ of Cleaver and
those close to his perspective argues that we need to
acknowledge the validity of diverse and ‘hidden’ struggles (absenteeism, theft at work, various forms
of work to rule etc.) which are alive and well, despite the
decline of the older forms of overt collective resistance.[44] There is, of course, always
resistance to the specific way in which surplus-labour is pumped out of the
direct producers. However, the fact that the working class currently tends to
resist in a mostly fragmented and individualized form - the fact that
resistance is so fragmented or hidden
- reflects the historic weakness of the class as a whole. The significance of
this is that it is not clear
how such hidden and individualized forms of resistance can in themselves
necessarily take us to the point of no return. Unless they become overtly
collective, they operate merely as a form of antagonism that capital can cope
with if not recuperate. This is the moment of truth in Tronti and Panzieri’s
warnings about the limits of autonomous struggle.
Comment: The point of recognizing
the content and diversity of day to day struggles is not to hold them up as a
satisfying form of organization, but to understand the ferment out of which
better organized, more collective struggles can arise. Indeed, they are
manifestations not merely of individual resistance but often of small group
resistance whose self organization can lead to wider linkages and organization.
As to how well capital can cope, that depends on many things, including the
breath and intensity of such resistance. Tronti and Panzieri’s warnings, cited
above, were not about the limits of autonomous struggle as such but about the
limits of the existing organization of struggle and their political work was
devoted to overcoming those limits - in part through the recognition and
appreciation of the real, concrete preoccupations of workers involved in those
day to day battles.
4.2 Escaping the harness?
Linked to this issue of retreat is the question of
whether the working class will be driving capital forward forever. Do the
‘autonomists’ argue too successfully that class struggle is the motor? If
working class struggle is always harnessed by capital, how does it escape the
harness?
Comment: What the theory of class
composition suggests is that escape depends on the particular configuration of
the harness in a given period. Thus the need to analyse that configuration in
order to perceive possible lines of rupture and flight, either already in
operation or potentially powerful.
The argument that class struggle is alive
and well in manifold forms is empowering; but it risks ending up as a
satisfaction with the current limits of the class struggle. The focus on the
validity and importance of the (plurality of) autonomous struggles themselves
can mean the abandonment of revolution as a totality.
Comment: This is, as far as I can see, more
fantasy by these authors. They give no example of the realization of such
“risks” or of such an abandonment. I know of none that they might have cited.
Their argument takes a classical, and misleading form: instead of dealing with
what people are actually doing, they conjure up some horrifying image of what
they might do and use it to critique them. This of course is exactly what the
Bush Administration has just done so thoroughly vis à vis Saddam Hussein and
his supposed weapons of mass destruction aimed at the US. But just as that
administration has to be critiqued for not demonstrating either the existence
of WMD or of any plan for their use to attack the United States, so too should
we ask whether I, or other autonomists, have ever expressed any complacency
with “the current limits of class struggle” or “abandoned” revolution. The
answer to both question is no. If the “Revolution as a totality” in the above
paragraph, or the “total revolution” in the one below, just means the overthrow
and transcendence of capitalism, then the answer is, once again, no.
And as the possibility and necessity of
total revolution fades, so reformist campaigns, premised upon the continued
existence of the capital relation, become the focus. A symptom of this
worst side of post-autonomia is
illustrated in demands for a guaranteed income, which have allowed those
influenced by autonomia to link up
with other reformists in campaigns which have dovetailed with capital’s current
needs for welfare restructuring.[45] Although not all the major figures of autonomia or the ‘autonomist Marxist’
scene would endorse this ultimately conservative view of the adequacy of
fragmentation, it is not inconsistent with an understanding of class struggle
based around the concept of autonomy.
Comment: So “those influenced by autonomia”
are now simply branded “reformists”? What “major figures of autonomia”
do they think have endorsed this demand? Unfortunately, in their rush to smear,
they assume rather than argue the case against the demand for a guaranteed
income and therefore wind up as even less convincing than Weston in his attack
on wage struggles - an attack that Marx went out of his way to refute.
5. A political reading of Capital: From 20 yards of linen to the
self-reduction of prices in one easy step
In his attempt to render a political reading of Marx’s
critique of political economy, Harry Cleaver is again following in the
workerist tradition: Negri’s ‘Marx on cycle and crisis’, which was written in
1968, is an earlier example of the attempt to connect Marx’s categories with
notions of strategy and struggle. However, a sub-text of
Cleaver’s book is his defence of the importance of Capital against the arguments made by (the later) Negri that, for
the revolutionary project of our time, Capital
is superseded by the Grundrisse. In Marx Beyond Marx,[46] Negri
argues that Capital has served to
reduce critique to economic theory, that the objectification of the categories
in Capital functions to block action
by revolutionary subjectivity and to subject the subversive capacity of the
proletariat to the reorganizing and repressive intelligence of capitalist
power. The point of Marx’s critique as whole is not ‘intellectual’ but
revolutionary; hence the Grundrisse,
which is traversed throughout by an absolutely insurmountable antagonism, is,
according to Negri, the key text and can even serve as a critique of the limits
of Capital.
Cleaver’s Reading ‘Capital’ Politically argues that the
right way to read Capital and its
fundamental categories such as value is ‘strategically’, from the perspective
of the working class. Cleaver therefore contends that any ‘blockage’ is due
only to the inadequate ways in which Capital
has been read, and that the solution is to read it politically.
We can
agree with Cleaver that, despite the power of the Grundrisse and its crucial indications that Marx’s theoretical
project was wider than the material which appears in Capital,[47] Capital is nevertheless the better
presentation of the critique of political economy (as Marx himself clearly
thought). But this is not the same as arguing that a ‘political’ reading of Capital is useful or even tenable. Our
argument is that Cleaver’s ‘political’ reading ultimately fails.
5.1 Aims of Reading ‘Capital’ Politically
The focus of Reading
‘Capital’ Politically is the first three parts of Chapter 1 of Capital Volume 1. Here, Marx
shows how the commodity has two aspects - use-value (a product of the concrete
useful labour that creates that particular commodity) and value (a
representation of that labour considered as general abstract labour); he shows
how value must take different forms; and from this he derives the logical
necessity of money as the universal equivalent form of value. Along with the
chapter on money, these are undeniably some of the most difficult parts of Capital. While a lot of the rest of the
book is fairly straightforward, this beginning is often enough to make the
reader turn away in frustration. Thus it is worth acknowledging the merit of
Cleaver's attempt at an accessible commentary.
The
central thesis of Cleaver's reading is that the category of value, in its
various forms (and aspects), needs to be related to class struggles around
human needs - to the subjective - rather than (simply) to the objective
workings of capital as a ‘system’. In
Cleaver’s words, to read Capital
politically is ‘to show how each category
and relationship relates to and clarifies the nature of the class struggle and
to show what that means for the political strategy of the working class’ (p. 76). Cleaver's attempt to
render the subjective in Marx's account of value operates by short-circuiting
most of Marx’s mediations, leaping directly from the commodity-form to
particular struggles. He relates
the material in Capital Chapter 1
partly to later material in the same volume over the struggle for the working
day and primitive accumulation, but most of all to more contemporary struggles
- around energy and food prices – in a way clearly distinct from Marx’s own
method.[48] He justifies this by saying ‘to the extent
then that I bring to bear on the interpretation of certain passages material
from other parts of Capital, or from
other works, I do so with the aim of grasping Chapter One within the larger
analysis rather than reconstructing the evolution of what Marx wrote and
thought’ (p. 94, second edition).
5.2 Aims of Capital
A
question Cleaver does not address is why is was that Marx said very little
about struggles in Volume 1 Chapter 1. If it is so necessary to read Capital politically in the way that
Cleaver does, then why didn’t Marx save us the trouble and simply write Capital politically? In promoting Capital as a weapon for our struggles,
Cleaver wants to stress the moments of de-reification and de-fetishization in
relation to Marx's categories. Indeed he claims that this project of a
political reading ‘is exactly the project called for in Marx’s discussion of
fetishism’ (p. 76). Thus for Cleaver there is no need for a ‘separate analysis
of Section 4 of Chapter One which deals with fetishism, simply because … this
whole essay involves going behind the appearances of the commodity-form to get
at the social relations’ (p. 80). Cleaver is right that the section on
fetishism is crucial for ‘getting at the social relations’; but why did Marx
insist on the type of presentation he does despite the possible difficulty it
entailed for his intended audience, the working class?
Comment: Marxologists have told
us enough about Marx’s choice of a method of exposition: he patterned the
presentation of the material in Capital on Hegel’s method in The
Science of Logic, Bukunin’s copy of which he is said to have had in his
possession, namely going from the most abstract to the most concrete (concrete
in the sense of the number of determinations). Marx used other approaches in
his earlier writings, such as The Contribution to the Critique of Political
Economy, but in any case it seemed to me when I wrote the book, and it
still seems to me today, that our job is quite different than Marx’s. He
wanted to lay out an original analysis in a systematic manner. We need
to synthesize all the elements of his analysis and grasp them within the world
we live in. That is why my reading proceeds differently than Marx’s exposition.
Moreover
is Cleaver’s kind of political reading really the way to understand what Marx
deals with as commodity fetishism?
An interesting comparison is Isaak Rubin's Essays on Marx's Theory of Value,[49] which Cleaver mentions only briefly and
dismissively, in a footnote.[50]
Comment: The reason I dismiss
Rubin in a footnote, is because Rubin dismisses Marx’s extended analysis of the
form of value in a footnote. That footnote is #1 in chapter 8 (“Basic
Characteristics of Marx’s Theory of Value”) and it reads as follows: “By form
of value we do not mean those various forms which value assumes in the course
of its development (for example, elementary form, expanded form, and so on),
but value conceived from the standpoint of its social forms, i.e., value as
form.”. He repeats this footnote almost word for word in Chapter 12 on the
“Content and Form of Value” changing only “value conceived from the stand point
of its social forms” to “value itself, which is considered as the social form
of the product of labor.” All Rubin sees in Marx’s 24 pages of analysis is a
history of the development of the form of value and so he abandons those pages
and returns to his primary objective, namely to argue against some Marxists
that Marx’s theory of value is a theory of the social relations of production
of capitalism.
My reading is quite different. I
do not see in those 24 pages a history, but rather a quite literal analysis -
or a breaking down and examination - of the form of value within capitalism.
Therefore, unlike Rubin, I meticulously examine each of the determinations that
Marx quite methodically lays out and interpret them as theoretical expressions
of particular aspects of the antagonistic class relationships of capitalism.
The reviewers follow Rubin’s lead here - where he ignored Marx’s 24 pages, they
ignore my analysis of those pages in Chapter 5 of my book. Given their interest
in Rubin’s work, this is unfortunate. If they had actually done what they
suggested, i.e., carried out a comparison of Rubin’s work and my own. they
would have been forced to confront these differences (and many others) and
might have come to a better understanding of what is new and unique in my interpretation
of Marx’s theory of value.
While Cleaver does not comment directly on
the section in Capital Chapter 1 on
fetishism, the whole first part of Rubin’s book is on this subject. Rubin’s
book was seminal precisely for systematically grasping the inseparability of
commodity fetishism and Marx’s theory of value: ‘The theory of fetishism is,
per se, the basis of Marx’s entire economic system, and in particular of his
theory of value’ (Rubin, 1973, p. 5). Thus the value categories are expressions
of a topsy-turvy world in which people’s products dominate the producers, where
people are related through things, and where objects behave as subjects and
subjects as objects. Since Rubin’s book became available in the
English-speaking world through Fredy Perlman’s translation, a whole school of
Marxism has developed, insisting like Rubin does that Marx’s is not a
neo-Ricardian embodied labour theory of value but an abstract social labour
theory of value;[51] such an analysis brings fetishism to the
fore and emphasises Marx’s work as a critique of political economy rather than
Marxist political economy.
Comment: Unfortunately, Rubin’s
interpretation of Marx’s work on value theory shows it to be not only a
critique of classical political economy, but a better political economy.
Despite his analysis of fetishism, Rubin never analyses Marx’s concepts in
terms of the dynamics of class struggle. His focus is indeed on the theory of
value as a theory of the “social relations of production” (as opposed to the
“forces of production” which he views as technical - the kind of view which
Panzieri systematically demolished in his rereading of Marx.). But Rubin never
confronts those “social relations” as antagonistic social relations of
struggle. The working class never appears in Rubin’s essays as an antagonistic
subject within and against (much less moving beyond) capital. He thus had no
place in my history of the recognition and appreciation of the autonomous power
of workers vis a vis capital.
Thus Rubin can be seen to make similar
points to Cleaver but to do so by explaining and illustrating value-categories
in terms of such basic mediations as social relations, labour and commodity
fetishism, rather than through the directly political reading favoured by
Cleaver.
Comment: As suggested above Rubin
does NOT “make similar points to Cleaver” beyond the general affirmation that
Marx’s value theory is a theory of social relationships. It is all very fine
and well to say Marx’s theory of value is a theory of the social relations of
production (though production needs to be defined more broadly than he does)
but what does this mean in terms of class struggle? Answering that question
seems to me to require exactly such a detailed dissection to grasp all the
various social relationships theorized by the categories of the analysis. For
this Rubin is no help.
Moreover, the case of Rubin questions the
schema Cleaver develops in his Introduction, summarized in the following table:
|
Ideological
readings |
Strategic
readings |
Political
economy readings |
From capital’s perspective |
From capital’s perspective |
Philosophical
readings |
From capital’s perspective |
Empty
set |
Political
readings |
Empty
set |
From a working-class perspective |
Approaches
to the reading of Marx (Cleaver, p. 31)
Cleaver
(p. 30) defines the bottom right box of this table as:
that strategic reading of Marx which is
done from the point of view of the working class. It is a reading that
self-consciously and unilaterally structures its approach to determine the
meaning and relevance of every concept to the immediate development of
working-class struggle. It is a reading which eschews all detached
interpretation and abstract theorising in favour of grasping concepts only
within that concrete totality of struggle whose determinations they designate.
This I would argue is the only kind of reading of Marx which can properly be
said to be from a working-class perspective because it is the only one which
speaks directly to the class’s needs for clarifying the scope and structure of its
own power and strategy.
Though
the Stalinist state recognized the political significance of Rubin’s ‘abstract
reasoning’,[52] Rubin’s book does not meet Cleaver’s
‘political’ criteria. But neither does Rubin’s book seem to be obviously a
political economic or a philosophical reading. We’d contend that one of the
reasons that Rubin’s is a seminal work is precisely because it transcends such
a distinction. Prompted by the revolutionary wave of the 1910s and 1920s,
Rubin, like writers of the same period such as Lukacs and Korsch, was able to
go beyond Second International Marxism and to understand Capital as a critique of political economy - but without, like the
Frankfurt School, retreating into mere philosophy.
Comment: I think that it is
actually quite obvious that Rubin’s treatment remains very much within the
realm of political economy. Indeed much of it is a demonstration of how Marx
“corrected” classical political economy to get the story right. The emphasis in
his analysis of fetishism is not a philosophical discourse on illusions but
focuses on the “objective” reasons why the social relations of production are
manifested in the form of social relations among things in a capitalist
society.
I also think that the reviewers
improperly slight the Frankfort School
(and here too they ignore what I had to say on the subject) as
“retreating into mere philosophy” when in fact they carried out considerable
analysis of the very material forms of capitalist domination in the sphere of
culture (not to mention Pollack’s work - which I mention - on automation and
the modern factory system).
The
fourth part of Capital Chapter 1,
‘The fetishism of the commodity and its secret’, is crucial because in it Marx
shows how the forms of value are an expression of reification, and hence
fetishized in our experience. Rubin’s approach is key for drawing one’s
attention to the inseparability of fetishism and the theory of value. By trying
to short-circuit the process, by immediately moving to the de-fetishising
aspect of class struggle, Cleaver jumps levels of abstraction.
Comment: I think this charge is silly. Once you understand the
nature of fetishism the next step is to apply that understanding to your
interpretation of fetishized categories and de-fetishize them. That is, by the
way, exactly what Rubin does after explaining his interpretation of Marx’s
concept of fetishism. It strikes me as absurd to suggest that it is somehow
illegitimate to use the concept of fetishism without first going into a lengthy
exposition of it (of the sort that Rubin does in his book).
Our
argument would be that, analytically, it is necessary to explain reification
before examining its reversal. In other words, in order to relate value to the kind of struggles Cleaver refers to, a
whole series of mediations must be developed,[53] not least the categories of absolute and
relative surplus-value, constant and variable capital, and the relation between
price and value (which Marx introduces later in Volume 1), circulation (which
Marx introduces in Volume 2) and the distributional forms of surplus value -
profit, rent and wages (which don't come until Volume 3). Volume 1 concerns
capital-in-general, presented as particular examples of capitalist enterprises
as an analytic device to derive the later, more developed, categories.
Comment: Here we differ
fundamentally. The above prescription seems to me to lead directly to a slavish
Marxological reiteration of the entirety of Marx’s text while ignoring that
each of the determinations of that text is a determination of the whole, i.e.,
of the class struggle which is capital. While it is desirable to work through
and understand all the mediations and interconnections in Capital - and
I do this each time I teach the book - my project in this little book was more
limited: to grasp those particular aspects of the class relationship denoted by
the concepts used to analyse value.
For us
it seems essential to grasp what Marx was trying to do in Capital. If Marx’s overall
project was ‘capitalism and its overthrow’ it was nevertheless necessary for
him first to show what the capitalist mode of production was, how it was possible; this led him methodologically to make a
provisional closure of class subjectivity in order to grasp the logic of
capital as an objective and positive system of economic ‘laws’ which is
apparently independent of human will and purpose.[54]
Objectivist Marxism takes this provisional closure as complete. What Cleaver is
doing could be seen to be an attempt at opening up the provisional closure by bringing
in the subjectivity of class struggle; but because he does not properly explain
the marginalization of the class struggle in the pages of Capital, what he does comes across as bald assertion at variance
with the flow of Marx’s argument.
Comment: Here we are once again treated to the old
objective/subjective dichotomy in a way which completely ignores my argument
that the so-called “objective” is nothing but the resultant of the interaction
of “subjective” forces and once that is understood then the old dichotomy is an
obstacle rather than an aid to understanding. In Reading Capital Politically
I am not “bringing in the subjectivity of class struggle”!! I am showing how
Marx’s theory is a theory of class struggle. How capital is a social
relationship of antagonistic class struggle and Capital is an analysis
of that struggle. There is no “marginalization” of class struggle in Capital;
that’s what the whole book is about. As I just explained above my project was
not to reproduce “the flow of Marx’s argument” but to understand the substance
of various elements of that argument in explicit class terms. There is no bald
assertion but a demonstration of this in the book.
In short, in his understandable quest for
the concrete and immediate, Cleaver abandons the analytic rigour needed to make
the connections between Capital and
the class struggle. While we may agree that Capital
needs to be understood as a weapon in the class war, it does not need to be the
crudely instrumental reading offered by Cleaver.
Comment: “Crudely instrumental”?
Where did that bit of derogatory fluff come from? Lack of “analytic rigour? I
invite anyone to compare the book with this “review” and decide who lacks
“analytic rigour”. The failure of this review to come to grips with the detailed
concrete analysis of Marx’s value analysis provided in the book speaks for
itself. In their rush to condemn autonomist Marxism the authors have forgotten
to actually deal with much of the substance of the book. Lame.
6. Whither autonomia?
6.1 Negri and the retreat
from the universal revolutionary subject
The
continuing influence of operaismo and
autonomia is evident today in a
number of recent movements, most notably perhaps Ya Basta! in Italy, who draw
upon some of the ideas of Negri. Negri himself has lately caused interest in
some circles. Empire, the book he has
co-authored with Michael Hardt,[55] has struck a chord with the concerns of
some ‘anti-capitalist’/‘globalization’ activists, academics and even a New
Labour policy adviser.[56] While Negri’s ideas were sometimes
controversial when he was part of the area of autonomy, after losing his
connections to the movement he ceased to produce worthwhile stuff, and instead
slipped into an academic quagmire whose reformist political implications are
all too clear.[57]
Comment: Unfortunately there is
no evidence here of any familiarity whatsoever on the part of the authors with
what Negri “produced” while in exile, other than Empire. Therefore the
“bald assertion” that he ceased to produce worthwhile “stuff” is laughable.
Equally unfortunate has been the lack of translation of the many volumes of Futur
Anterieur that Negri edited in Paris along with Jean-Marie Vincent and
others which are full of quite useful “stuff” analyzing various concrete
struggles as well as putting forward the now better known - because of Empire
- idea of “immaterial labor.”
The
disconnection of ideas from the movement, following the repression which
culminated in the mass arrests of 1979, has also meant that there has been to
some extent a battle for the heritage of the movement. Through journals like Zerowork and Midnight Notes, Anglo-American theorists have kept ‘autonomist
Marxism’ going. Through emphasizing the continuing importance of value (albeit
ambiguously, as we have seen), these and Harry Cleaver among others have
distinguished themselves from the late Negri with his embrace of both
post-structuralism and the ideas of the (pre-Hegelian) philosopher Spinoza.
Commentary: This is a very
confused sketch of the so-called “battle”. Not only was I part of the Zerowork
collective, and have collaborated with Midnight Notes at various points, but
there has been no ambiguity about our disagreement with Negri about value - as
a reading of both my and George Caffentzis’ writings will show. As to our
various relationships to the ideas of people like Deleuze and Guattari or even
Spinoza these authors haven’t a clue. Negri coauthored Communists Like Us
with Guattari, and I have, for example, used Deleuze and Guattari’s lovely
analysis of the rhizome in my writings on the Zapatistas and the
anti-globalization movement. Perhaps at some point the authors will read these
texts and comment on them but there is no sign that they have to date.
But - and despite his innumerable
self-contradictions - a continuity can be traced from the early Negri, through autonomia to the late Negri. For
example, his recent arguments, along with other reformists, for a guaranteed
income can be traced back to the demand for a ‘political wage’ made by the
radical Negri of Potere Operaio. It
would seem to be significant that, despite his earlier valuable insights, his
relatively recent theoretical work can be seen as at one with the arguments of
Foucault, Deleuze and Guattari justifying fragmented forms of resistance and
denying the need to confront the state.
Comment: First, Negri’s recent
work is not “at one” with Foucault, Deleuze and Guattari even if he has drawn
from them - as should we all - and coauthored a book with Guattari (Communists
Like Us). Second, Foucault, Deleuze and Guattari do not “justify”
fragmented forms of resistance, they have identified them, explored their logic
(in relation to the molecular and molar forms of exploitation and oppression)
and shown their power of rupture as well as their dangers. Just because, for
example, Deleuze and Guattari argue that what they call the “overcoding
machine” of capitalist society is greater than the State apparatus (“a concrete
arrangement that puts a society’s over coding machine into effect”) that
doesn’t mean that they deny the need to confront the state or to overthrow it.
What it does mean is that their understanding of exactly what needs to be
confronted and overthrown is much more comprehensive and complex, and therefore
requires more subtle revolutionary methods than those conceived by earlier
revolutionaries.
Empire contains any number of arguments we see as
problematic if not counter-revolutionary and recuperative, including the
abandonment of value, the centrality of immaterial labour, the call for ‘real
democracy’ and political proposals for ‘global citizenship’. What stirred
people’s interest, it seemed, was the thesis of ‘empire’ itself – that of the
emergence of a single unified global political-economic capitalist entity –
which seemed to offer an alternative to unsatisfactory orthodox theories of
imperialism. With the US war on Afghanistan, however, the notion of imperialism
has returned to the forefront of political discourse.[58]
Comment: The fact that
imperialism has “returned to the forefront of political discourse” (on the
Left) hardly implies that Empire’s
vision of global capital can now be dismissed. While the rhetoric of the Bush
Administration’s neoliberal policymakers emphasizes their desire for a Pax Americana,
and the maintenance of the sole-superpower status of the United States, it
remains to be seen to what degree their policies in support of “American”
interests will turn out to be in conflict with those of global capital as a
whole.
What we
are left with, then, as Negri’s take on autonomia,
is a celebration of fragmentation. The abandonment of the concept of the
proletariat (now replaced by ‘the multitude’), the universal revolutionary
subject, is the abandonment of world revolution. Negri’s work might therefore
be said to express the profound sense of defeat and disillusion that followed
the failure of the Movement of 1977.
6.2 History as ideology
Two different ways of writing history are evident in
the books by Steve Wright and Harry Cleaver. Wright’s is a history of the
politics of a movement. But it is also critical, from a communist perspective.
We therefore thoroughly recommend it as an invaluable resource in helping our
understanding of the development, contributions and tensions of workerism and autononia in their historical context of
Italy in the 1950s, 60s and 70s.
By contrast, for us, Cleaver’s account of
the tradition of autonomia is far
more tendentious. Rather than focusing, as Wright does, on what is clearly a
single historical episode, Cleaver selects a number of different movements and
theorists, going back as far as C.L.R. James and Raya Dunayevskaya, which he then designates as
representatives of what he calls ‘autonomist Marxism’. Again, here Cleaver is
consistent with the tradition of workerist historiography which, looking back,
found the mass worker and hence a commonality with its own perspective in
earlier struggles, such as the Wobblies and the working class movement in
Germany in the 1920s.
In one sense it might
seem there’s nothing wrong with Cleaver’s attempt simply to identify what he
sees as the revolutionary use of Marx as a particular tradition. And if we look
at the groups and theorists that he refers to (both in Reading
‘Capital’ Politically and
also in his university course on ‘autonomist Marxism’[59]) a very great deal of it
corresponds with our own assessment of the most valuable contributions.
However, there are two, related, problems.
First, in grouping the various movements and theorists together in the way that
he does there is an element of the same homogenizing or flattening out – a
neglect of differences – that we saw in Cleaver’s ‘autonomist’ class analysis,
as well as in the workerist concepts of mass worker and so on.
Comment: I fail to see how the
identification of a common threat of recognition and emphasis running through a
diverse body of literature and political practice involves any kind of
“homogenisation” or “flattening out” whatsoever. There is an inevitable relative
neglect of differences in my brief sketch first, because it’s focus was on the
identification of similarities, not the differences, and second, because it was
brief. Nevertheless I would argue the neglect was only relative, given that in
the course of that brief sketch I describe the evolution of the ideas and
therefore, necessarily, differences among them, especially about important
central issues such as work and crisis. I have already spoken to the supposed
neglect of differences in the my analysis of the unwaged and in the automomist
treatment of the mass worker and won’t repeat those points here.
Second, it is revealing to consider which
tendencies are excluded from Cleaver’s canon, or at least addressed in only a
cursory way. How might these neglected tendencies be in tension with the rest
of the material? What contradictions might the formulation ‘autonomist Marxism’
suppress?
For us,
as an account of developments in theory over the past century, the most notable
absences from Reading ‘Capital’
Politically are the
Situationist International[60] and the Italian left and
those influenced by it, such as Barrot/Dauvé and Camatte.
Comment:
Both Situationist texts and those of Camatte are included in the Texas Archives
of Autonomist Marxism. I had studied neither at the time I wrote Reading
Capital Politically. The same was true for many of the writings of the
Council Communists and of Anarcho-Communists such as Kropotkin - as I explain
in the Preface to the Second Edition. There is nothing to be read into the
absence of these authors from my historical sketch other than the simple fact
that I had not yet studied them. In the case of Kropotkin, at least, I have
subsequently written an appreciation of the similarities and differences
between his work and that of autonomist Marxists. He, of course, would reject
being labelled a Marxist. See:
http://www.eco.utexas.edu/facstaff/Cleaver/kropotkin.html
We can
go so far as to say that the attempt to specify such a thing as ‘autonomist
Marxism’ is ideological, with its emphasis on ‘similar’ ideas and its
concealments (the glossing of the limits of the ‘good’ theorists and movements,
the silence on those that don’t fit).
Comment: These snide remarks are both pathetic and could be, just as
snidely, addressed to any effort to identify common threads of ideas. I accept
the obvious critique of my sketch of this history that it is brief and leaves
much out, and I enthusiastically welcomed Steve Wright’s contribution to
providing a more comprehensive history of the Italian New Left - just as I have
welcomed comprehensive biographical studies of C.L.R. James and others.
“Concealment” implies knowledge of something to conceal, and as I pointed out
in my preceding comment, at the time of writing Reading Capital Politically
I was unfamiliar with those whom I am accused of leaving out, and thus could
hardly “conceal” them! As to the charge of
“concealing” the limits of those I have treated, or of the movements of
which they were a part, this too I deny. I invite the reader of this “review”
to read my book and see how I treated the evolution of the theory, the limits
of various people’s ideas, how others saw further and elaborated new and
different ideas, and so on.
This is
not unusual or strange. The capitalist counter-offensive which culminated in
the defeat of the Movement of 1977 saw a disillusionment with the possibility
of mass revolutionary change that was expressed in the destinations of those
coming out of the area of autonomy: most went into the PCI or the armed groups.
Likewise, the turning of the
general insights of the operaismo and
autonomia theorists into ‘autonomist
Marxism’ can be seen as a reflection of the retreat of the movement giving rise
to the ideas.
Comment: Nonsense. As I explain in the preface to the book - which
these “reviewers” simply ignore - the introduction to the book (and its thesis
of the existence of a tradition of “autonomist” Marxist ideas and practices)
was a by-product of an effort to rediscover the history of several sets of
ideas that came together in the 1970s to generate the journal Zerowork.
This was not a text crafted in aftermath of the repression of 1979, but one
written before it, at a time when these ideas and the political movements in
which they were born were very much alive and active.
Ideology
is the freezing of theory; theory freezes when the practice on which it is
based is halted. ‘Autonomism’ seems to be non-dogmatic and dynamic because of
the emphasis on particular needs and diverse struggles etc.; but the very
principle of openness to new struggles has itself become ideological as the wave
of struggles has ebbed.
Comment: There has been no freezing in the development of autonomist
Marxist ideas as any post-1979 survey of its literature reveals. The attempts
to come to grips with the capitalist neoliberal counterattack of the 1980s and
1990s and the reformulation of theory to find new approaches to grasping
changes in the class composition have continued apace. Therefore, by the
reviewers’ own definition, labelling these ideas “ideology” is a misapplication
of the term. It reflects only their dislike, not an accurate analysis.
Thus the glossing of the limitations of
those currents that Cleaver gives approval to, and even cites as exemplifying
autonomous struggle (e.g. Wages for Housework),[61] goes hand in hand with the exclusion of
those that would contribute to the critique of those same currents. Any radical
current needs to critique itself in order transcend itself, as in the
proletariat’s self-liberation through self-abolition. Cleaver’s identification
of a thing with the label ‘autonomist Marxism’ is ideological in that it is
partial and attempts to close off rather than open up a pathway to its own
self-critique.
Comment: Statements like the
above make me wonder if the “reviewers” actually read the book they pretend to
review. Even in my short sketch of the history of these ideas I repeatedly
point out limitations of the ideas of various writers and activists. My own
contributions to the evolution of these ideas - including the reinterpretation
of value theory in Reading Capital Politically (that is almost
completely ignored in this “review”) have been developed because others in this
tradition hadn’t done something I found necessary. Moreover there is an
explicit discussion of self-valorization as involving the self-abolition of the
proletariat (though not in those hackneyed words). And what “thing” is it that
I am accused of identifying with a “label”? “Close off self critique”? Hardly,
in the Preface I even point out how my own early work contained little of the
ideas in the book, other than a preoccupation with class struggle.
While Cleaver’s book, and particularly his
Introduction, has been important to many of us in the past, we would suggest now
that Wright’s book is more helpful than Reading
‘Capital’ Politically in allowing us to appropriate the best contributions
of the workerist tradition. Wright ends his book with the sentence ‘Having
helped to force the lock … obstructing the understanding of working-class
behaviour in and against capital, only to disintegrate in the process, the
workerist tradition has bequeathed to others the task of making sense of those
treasures which lie within.’ In many ways Italian workerist analyses of class
struggle promised much, but delivered little. The whole tendency, increasingly
divided into separate camps, collapsed at the end of the ‘70s. Whereas one camp
favoured libertarian themes of autonomy, personal development and the
subjective determinations of class identity; the other instead turned to
debates over the ‘armed party’ and the feasibility of civil war. Both camps
abandoned the traditional workerist focus on the relationship between technical
and political class composition – that is, between the class’s material
structure in the labour process and its behaviour as a subject autonomous from
dictates of both the labour movement and capital.
But what can we take from the whole
experience? The ‘complex dialectic of decomposition and recomposition’ of class
forces, first elaborated by Tronti and others, was a significant departure from
traditional leftist understanding of class struggle; the right questions were
being asked: what material determinants are there in understanding the
behaviour of the working class as (revolutionary) subject? But if the right
questions were being asked, the answers the workerists provided were not always
satisfactory; and tendency was often confused with totality. The early
workerists were rightly criticized for their unwillingness to theorise moments
of class struggle outside the large factories, and perhaps also for seeing the
wage as the privileged locus of struggle; however their autonomia successors could be equally criticized for their
problematic abandonment of the ‘mass worker’.
Wright’s book focuses on the concept of
class composition, workerism’s most distinctive contribution. Class composition
was important as an attempt to express how the working class is an active
subject, and thus takes us beyond the poverty of objectivist Marxism which
portrayed the working class as passive and dependent. The concept grew from the
experience of autonomous struggle when the working class was on the offensive,
but is has come to seem less adequate when relied upon in periods of crisis and
retreat. To what extent was there a political recomposition of the class with
the decline of the mass worker? Was the ‘socialized worker’ made concrete by
the self-reduction struggles of the 1970s and the student and unemployed
movements of 1977? Certainly a multiplicity of struggles erupted on the social
level. But did the struggles merge, did the new subjectivities forged in
struggle coalesce? Class recomposition would entail the formation of an
increasingly self-conscious proletarian movement.
Comment: Class recomposition is here reduced
to a new word for an old concept: “the formation of an increasingly
self-conscious proletarian movement”. And then, because the reviewers see no
such movement the concept is dismissed. But the concept of the political
recomposition of class power was never so simplistic, not from the beginning.
It denoted processes of struggle through which workers were able to recompose
the structures of power within their class and between their class and capital.
Processes of struggle certainly involve “consciousness” but not necessarily
“class consciousness” in the traditional orthodox sense. In periods of
decomposition as well as those of political recomposition the root notion of
class composition draws our attention to the need to analyse the content,
divisions, and circulation of struggle among workers rather than to “flatten
out” (to use one these reviewers’ favourite derogatory terms) those
complexities into general statements about “a proletarian movement” or
“class consciousness”.
The dispersal
of workers (operaio disseminato), and
the displacement of struggle to the wider social terrain, because of the
fluidity of situations and multiplicity of moments of struggle, make it harder
for a self-conscious movement to emerge. But some in the area of autonomy point
to the very same factors as having the potential for rapid transmission of
struggles to all sectors of the class. But, while the refusal of work and the
liberation of needs manifested themselves in many different ways in the
struggles of the ‘70s (proletarian youth circles, riots, ‘free shopping’ or
reappropriations, squatting, organized ‘self-reduction’ of rent, utility bills
and transport fares etc.), they did not develop into the political movement
around the wage (redefined as a guaranteed social income) that Negri theorized
– let alone into any coherent class movement capable of overturning capitalist
social relations.
If this review article has devoted so much
space to the problems of workerism and autonomia
it is only because of the historic importance of this current. Today, ideas
such as the non-neutrality of machinery and factory organization, the focus on
immediate struggles and needs (rather than a separate ‘politics’), and the
anti-capitalist nature of struggles outside (as well as within) the workplace
are characteristic of many radical circles, not all of which would call
themselves Marxist. The workerists were among the first to theorize these
issues. The extent to which their arguments have been echoed by radicals down
the years (as well as co-opted and distorted by recuperators) is an index of
their articulation of the negation of the capital relation.
(Continuation of Comment on
footnote 24) The Aufheben “reviewers” have chosen not only to critique what
they think is my view of the relationship between students and the working
class, but to impune the relationship between my views on that subject and my
actions, as a student and as a professor. In what follows I elaborate on my
analysis of students, professors and the working class and do so, in part, in
terms of my own experience.
On Schoolwork and the Struggle
Against It
As a university professor I deal
continuously with many aspects of the class politics of education. The two
aspects that concern me on a day-to-day basis are the nature of what I and
students do in the classroom. Beyond that there are the issues of homework,
research and publication. I teach Marx because I think that the fundamentals of
his analysis are still very useful in coping with today’s world - including
school and the work of students and professors. As one might expect I regularly
bring some elements of his analysis to bear on these issues - a few of which
are mentioned in Reading Capital Politically. In the light of contemporary
autonomist Marxist theory, the university must be seen as one factory within
the larger social factory - one that produces mostly labor power and research
results. The dynamics of those elements of the class composition found there
can be analysed accordingly.
In what follows at first, I
describe and analyse what I (and other professors) am supposed to do, and what
students are supposed to do and what our relationship is supposed to be. In
other words, as Marx does in Capital, I lay out the nature and dynamics
of work according to the logic of capital that dominates the way the university
is set up and supposed to operate. Later I will discuss how that logic can be
and often is ruptured as we - students and professors - struggle against it and
struggle to craft alternative uses of our time and energy.
Professors at Work
With respect to my own actions, I
am acutely aware that the most fundamental aspect of the job that I am paid to
do vis à vis students is the imposition of work and its discipline. The
ultimate vehicle for this imposition is grades. The expectation of university
officials is that I give high grades to students who work hard and low grades
to students who don’t, including failing those who refuse a substantial portion
of the work they are asked to do. In the language of Marx, as a professor I am
supposed to produce and reproduce labor power.
In the language of George
Caffentzis’ essay on “The Work/Energy Crisis and the Apocalypse” I am expected
to play the role of “Maxwell’s Daemon”: sorting low from high entropy students
- giving high grades and passing the former along as having demonstrated their
willingness and ability to work and giving low grades and holding back the
latter who either can’t or won’t do the work demanded of them. My provision of
this information about their level of entropy - of the degree to which they are
willing and able to make their energy available for the work capital wants done
- is the final element of the work that I am expected to do vis à vis each set of
students in each course I teach.
Although it happens that grades
can be based on class participation, for the most part they are based on the
performance of specific tasks, e.g., papers and tests, but that performance
also reflects prior work done without any evaluation (study, research). Because
the imposition of grades is absolutely unavoidable - in the sense that if I
refuse to give grades I lose my job - I do this. But at the same time, being
clear about the alienating consequences of grades, I am as up front and as
clear with my students about the class politics of the imposition of work and
of grades as I can be. I discuss with them this key component of the work I am
supposed to be doing and the problems that it poses both for them and for me.
Along the way to the periodic
evaluations that produce grades, I am also expected to impose work in an
ongoing manner. The main vehicles for doing this are the assignment of material
to be studied outside the classroom and the imposition of work in the classroom.
These involve for the students the prolongation of the working day caused by
such homework and the alienations of
classroom and homework. The classroom is the primary place where we
collectively interact; it is a space (a work site) and a set of behaviors
(work) on which I dwell with my students.
The typical university classroom
has two important features shaped to structure the imposition of work on both
professors and students: first, its physical layout which is most often rigidly
fixed to create and maintain a hierarchical and antagonistic division of power
between the professor and the students, and secondly, the size of classes which
is also shaped to the same end. The physical layout is almost invariably
designed around the assumption that the professors will lecture and students
will listen. Although professors may or may not have a podium, they almost
always have what amounts to a stage upon which they can move freely. The
students, by contrast, are organized by chairs and desks, usually screwed into
the floor and immovable, to be passive listeners. The typically large number of
students assigned to each classroom (mostly varying at the undergraduate level
from 50 to 500) is designed for, and almost always leads to, active professor
lectures and passive student listening being the dominant overt behaviors.
While at the level of elementary
and secondary school an essential day-to-day aspect of a teacher’s work is the
imposition of order (forcing students to be still, to keep quiet unless granted
the momentary right to speak, to request permission to go to the bathroom, and
so on), at the university level such order in the classroom is assumed and the
primary forms of the imposition of work is the confining of students to a
mostly passive listening via lecturing and strictly limited questioning. The
lectures, are in turn, organized and ordered by the professor so the content
and presentation that the students have to listen to is imposed by the
professor. This ordering in each course is a moment in a larger ordering,
namely of the curriculum as a whole in which professors, not students, set the
content and sequence of studies. Students, therefore, are forced to select from
one or another sequence of “studies/lectures”
all of which have been designed by someone else.
The size of classes, the
organization of the classroom, and the necessity of imposing work and grades
all tend - as indicated above - to reduce professors’ “teaching” to lecturing,
to a performance, or to the performance of a spectacle designed at worst to
amuse and at best to inspire. While a few questions may be tolerated or even
solicited, the vast bulk of the time in class is taken up delivering organized
lectures on the topic of the day to student who sit passively and quietly, listening,
taking notes and wondering what of the material covered, if any, will be on the
next test. This means that our work is similar to - but worse than - that of
any entertainer before a paying live audience.
I walk into a the classroom at
the beginning of a semester and find all kinds of students: those who are there
because they are sincerely interested in the subjects to be covered, those who
wish they could be absolutely anywhere else, those who are ready and willing to
get as much out of the course as possible and those who will do the absolutely
minimum amount of work to get whatever grade they deem acceptable. But
regardless of their attitudes I know that the situation of active
lecturer-test-giver-grader - passive listener-test-taker-graded is structured
to create antagonism: I must impose work and grades and they suffer from that
imposition whether it be willingly or resentfully.
In terms of ongoing homework,
testing and evaluation, the work dynamics can be usefully understood in terms
of Marx’s analysis of piece wages. Grades, students come to realize, are
effectively IOU’s on future income/wages (the higher your grades the better
certification and higher paying jobs you can get). They are awarded not
according to the hours of work put in (like time wages) but according to the
production of pieces (e.g., tests, papers) and I play the role not merely of
taskmaster but of quality control inspector. As Marx points out in chapter 21
on piece wages their beauty from a capitalist point of view is that not only do
they hide exploitation and are conducive to competition but they don’t require
constant super-vision, only quality control. By keeping piece rates low
(whether monetary pay per unit of commodity production or grades for tests,
papers and courses) workers/students are coerced into imposing work on
themselves. Just as the managers of factories prefer piece wages to instill
discipline cheaply, forcing workers to work hard and long to produce enough
pieces to earn a liveable wage, so the managers of universities find grades a
fine vehicle for forcing students to work hard and long on their own, far from
any direct supervision (say at home or in libraries or laboratories) to get
high enough grades to pass a course or earn a degree.
I know, for example, that the
most effective way to impose more work is to give students research papers and
take-home tests with virtually no time or page limit. Some of them will spend
an extraordinary number of hours crafting the paper or test to get a good
grade. Making them take tests in a class period (limited say to one hour) will
mean much less work - even though they may spend more time before the test
preparing for it.
I also know that the university
monitors me (and other professors) to determine just how much work we impose.
It does this casually by keeping an eye on course syllabi and it does it
methodically by keeping track of how we award grades. Every semester at the
university where I work, the university records the grades that we give and
generates summary statistics about how many “A’s,” how many “B’s” and so on.
When the time comes to allocate wage increases the university committee that
makes such decisions hauls out a black binder that contains these statistics
for each professor, for each course, for each semester and examines it to see
if the professor is imposing enough work. They measure this by the distribution
of grades - the more “A’s” and fewer “F’s” the less discipline a professor is
assumed to maintain. If over time an increase in the percentage of higher
grades can be identified, then the professor is branded a “grade inflator”
(that professor’s “A’s” are deemed to be declining in value, like currency
during a period of inflation). On the other hand, if a professor is seen to be
giving fewer and fewer high-level grades, then that professor is deemed a
“grade deflator”. One year, the Dean of the College of Liberal Arts awarded
permanent $1000 wage increases to a handful of professors that this process
identified as “grade deflators.” Such practices, obviously, put pressure on
professors to be hardnosed disciplinarians, to impose lots of work on their
students. The results, also obviously, are to intensify the antagonism between
students and professors. Within such contexts it never surprises me that some
students go “postal” and kill their professors, nor that so many professors
hold so much contempt for students (which rationalizes their own otherwise
unpleasant tasks of selection, reward and punishment).
To the above aspects of
professoral jobs should be added the additional work for those who try to teach
against the stream, to provide students with materials and opportunities for
critical thinking and discussion about the limitations of and alternatives to
capitalism. One way to minimize the amount of time and energy you put into your
job is to just “teach the text book” - however boring it may be for students.
(Especially at the introductory or intermediary level there are very few
significant differences in textbooks because the editors demand that they be
written for the largest possible market.) But teaching the textbook means, for
the most part, teaching a set of ideas designed to produce and reproduce the
kind of labor power desired by capital. Teaching “outside” the textbook involves
at the very least systematic critique of the book itself and more usually the
work of seeking out, sorting and sifting through texts and other resources to
find materials that will provide points of view different from, and critical
of, those provided in standardized textbooks.
I should also mention how, from
the point of view of administrators, the whole issue of teaching is entirely
secondary at many universities that pride themselves on being “research
universities”. In such universities - and I am employed by one - promotions and
wages/salaries are awarded very little on the basis of teaching but rather
overwhelmingly on the basis of research and publication (thus “publish or
perish”). As a result, those of us who teach are under constant monetary pressure
to divert our energies away from teaching to research, writing and publishing.
Concretely this means pressure to devote less time to preparing course
materials and lectures, less energy to lecturing, and to find ways to shift the
burden of work onto students - all of which increases the alienation and
antagonism between students and professors.
It is also useful to note that
the form through which such work is imposed on those of us who are professors
is at least partially parallel to the way we are supposed to impose work on
students. We are not subject to constant supervision but instead subjected to
the logic of piece work and piece wages. Because promotion and wage increases
depend on publishing, and publishing is competitive and quality controlled
through “peer review”, i.e., other professors evaluate articles submitted to
professional journals or books to publishers, we are under pressure to devote
lots of time and energy to our research and to crafting publishable articles.
As with students we are expected, and things are set up to guarantee, that we
impose vast amounts of work on ourselves. Although the current structure of
higher education formally provides several months a year of ostensibly free,
vacation time (at Christmas, Spring Breaks and Summer), such pressures often
have the effect of provoking professors to give up such free time and to
continue to work at their research, writing and attempts to get published. This
is especially true for untenured assistant professors, although, by the time
they have achieved tenure many have entered so deeply into the alienations of
professional competition that they continue to work endlessly for further
promotion, research grants, and salary increases.
Students at Work
Within the classroom, given its
structure and the patterns of behavior associated with that structure, students
initially find their only commonality in their participating in what Sartre
called a “serial group”, that is to say a group of people with nothing more in
common than having to sit through the same lecture and be subjected to the same
tests and be graded by the same professor. In Marx’s terms they constitute a
moment of the working class in-itself, defined by their common experience of
having work imposed on them.
In classrooms students may find
themselves collectively amused, or, more commonly, subjected to boring lectures
on subjects only superficially of their choosing. While a few professors are
entertaining, and even fewer inspiring or thought provoking, a great many - because
of the pressures to which they are subject - have done very little to prepare
for lectures and merely repeat the material of textbooks making classes a
tedious repetition of familiar material - and not even worth taking notes. If students have the initiative to go beyond
listening to actually think and query the lecturer (to some small degree taking
control over their work process) they can get more out of the class but risk
being ridiculed or belittled by an insecure and abusive teacher.
Listening to lectures may be a
collective exercise but being tested and graded is almost always an individual
experience with collective cooperation considered cheating. Each individual
student faces the test alone, and each receives a particular grade. Because such
things as the admission to some specialized programs, academic scholarships,
admission to graduate school (or Law School, or Med School, etc.) and future
job prospects depend, at least in part, on good grades, students rarely take a
relaxed or nonchalant attitude toward being tested and graded. On the contrary,
not surprisingly, test time and pre-test time, are often periods of stress and
varying degrees of anxiety. Such stress can itself sometimes produce harmful
physical side effects, such as migraine headaches, cold sweats, hives, and
outbreaks of herpies, It can also lead to behaviors and habits with deleterious
results, e.g., the use of drugs (caffeine or speed to stay up to study,
nicotine or downers to reduce nervous tension and so on) or eating disorders.
Moreover, because students (and
professors) are habituated to the notion of a grade hierarchy, of rank
ordering, the structure of evaluation is conducive to competition. It’s not
just that students are encouraged to understand the material and get good
grades, they are told they must get better grades than their peers. In
extremis such competition can generate such alienating behaviors as an
individualistic refusal to help others for fear of undermining one’s own
position in the hierarchy. Another example is the resentment of many students
towards those few who, during lectures, ask questions designed to meet their
own particular intellectual needs. The resentment derives from the perception
that the questions lead to “getting off the subject” that takes time away from
the planned lectures that they hope will tell them what they need to know for
upcoming tests.
Beyond course specific testing
there are the standardized tests to which students are increasingly subjected.
In the US these include the SAT necessary to college applications, the GRE
necessary to graduate school applications, the LSAT necessary to Law School
applications, and so on. These tests, which come at critical moments of
transition for students are even more subject to the pressures of competition
than those in particular classes.
In all of this we can see the
various forms of alienation that Marx first laid out in the 1944 Manuscripts:
alienation from the work itself (studying what you are told to study in the way
and order someone else requires - instead of following your intellectual nose
to meet your own needs), alienation from the product (labor power or the
ability and willingness to work becomes merely something you do because your
professor or your future employer requires it - instead of a something you are
doing to meet your own needs - individual and social), alienation from other
workers (competition among students and antagonism toward professors - instead
of cooperation within a framework of collectively self-defined learning) and
finally alienation from species-being (the lack of freedom to realize one’s own
self-determined social being, both individually and collectively).
As just indicated with respect to
test-taking, these alienations can and do cause serious harm to many students.
The isolation, lack of control over their own lives and estrangement from their
fellows contribute to personal misery, desperate willingness to engage in self-
and mutually destructive behaviour to gain social acceptance, self-mutilation,
eating disorders and in some cases suicide or murderous violence. University
counciling and intervention centers are regularly swamped by students barely
hanging on. While the alienations of school are rarely the only sources of such
problems, they often contribute greatly, sometimes being the final bunch of
straws that breaks the camel’s back.
These alienations involve two
obvious forms of antagonism. The first is the antagonism among students
associated with the alienation between them - that can take forms ranging from
personal animosity to collective racist or sexist behaviors (e.g., Fraternity
treatment of women and racial “minorities”). The second is the antagonism of
students towards those of us who are professors - who are their immediate
taskmasters, who impose alienated work and all the other associated alienations
on them, who act as reflexive mediators defining the students to themselves via
grades (whether we do this arrogantly - like the abusive teacher in Pink
Floyd’s The Wall - or sympathetically - like the title characters in the
films Goodbye Mr. Chips and Mr Holland’s Opus).
These antagonisms, of course,
mask deeper ones: namely that between the students and the institutions that
impose grades and require those of us who are professors to impose work and
that between we professors who find ourselves forced to impose work and incur
student antagonism and the institutions that make this an integral part of
their jobs. These antagonisms are masked by the mediated organization of the
imposition of work such that students rarely see or understand the
institutional pressures on professors and such that professors who accept the
organization of the university, become blind to its alienations and only see
and experience the antagonism of students as irresponsible personal laziness
and reproach. (There is more on such syllogistic mediations in chapter five of Reading
Capital Politically on the form of value.)
In the current period in many
countries, including the United States (and from what I have heard Britain
since Thatcher), students are subjected to ever greater pressure to work harder
and longer, to both extend their working day and intensify it (two classic
capitalist strategies usually associated with absolute and relative surplus
value). At the level of the length of their entire university work-life they
are also subjected to speed-up, not only working faster and harder but with
less freedom to change the direction of their studies, to take time off from
those studies, etc. They are pressured to choose a single course of study and
to complete it as quickly as possible and are penalized (even monetarily) if
they deviate from the chosen path.
Because the situation is so full
of alienations many students want to minimize their misery by at least being
entertained; they prefer lectures to be funny, stimulating and perhaps even
inspiring. They would also like, of course, little work to be required, that
work to be easily accomplished and highly rewarded. They want, quite
reasonably, the least obnoxious working conditions possible. They don’t want me
to be a Captain Bligh or Simon Legree but rather a Seinfeld with funny gag
lines or a Robin Williams capable of not only funny but dazzling and uplifting
rhetoric. Indeed, many will tolerate an outrageously high imposition of work
outside the classroom if only I am entertaining enough in the classroom -
effectively shifting the workload from themselves (of dealing with boring
lectures) to me (producing entertaining lectures). The pressure, therefore, is on
me to do the work necessary to meet these expectations, or to do the work of
dealing with a classroom full of people whose desires are not being met. In
either case I am doing the work of handling what is structured to be an
antagonistic situation.
To these general alienations and
antagonisms we must add those of gender and race, ethnicity and national origin
- as in the rest of society. Some students are subjected to additional
pressures either from other students or from their professors. The cruelties of
some students are as well known as the predatory behavior of some professors -
in both cases it is mainly students who are the targets.
The above are a few observations
of the organization of work and its consequences within the university
workplace, with a focus on students and professors. (To have a more complete
understanding of the class composition in the educational industry and its
factories we must also, of course, investigate the work and conflicts among
managers and staff within individual institutions - in and of themselves and in
relationship to students and professors - as well as the overall hierarchical
structure of the collective set of institutions of “higher learning” and their
relationship to the rest of the social factory.)
Students in Struggle
I now want to turn from
discussing how things are supposed to operate to how students and professors
struggle against the work that is imposed on them and against the various
institutions and mechanisms of that imposition - to turn, in Marx’s words, from
an examination of students (and professors) as part of the working class in
itself, to their role as part of the working class for itself. Let me begin
with students, for the sake of continuity with the previous section. (I spent
something over 20 years of my life as a student (12 years elementary and
secondary school, five years undergraduate college, and four years plus of
graduate school).
At universities students
initially confront courses, their professors and the work those professors impose
as individuals, individuals very low in the hierarchy of power. As such they
generally have very little ability to resist other than through absenteeism
(skipping classes - physically or mentally - or dropping out) or other forms of
isolated refusal. In my experience it is very rare that an isolated individual
student has the courage to openly challenge the way a professor organizes a
course, lectures, grades or treats students (inside and outside the classroom).
It is also rare to find a student with enough self-assurance and developed
sense of their own intellectual agenda to engage in what the Situationists
called “detournement” or the diversion of a mechanism of domination (imposed
schoolwork) into a building block of their own autonomous intellectual
development.
Not surprisingly, high on many
students’ agenda is the acquisition of friends and networks to escape from
isolation, to break the alienations of schoolwork and the classroom and to get
some enjoyment out of their sojourn at school. Sometimes such network formation
takes place in particular courses as students collaborate to help each other
cope with the work imposed - by forming study groups and such. (Collaboration
that overcomes the alienation among students may be aimed at minimizing the
amount of work imposed, but it may also be simply an attempt to form coalitions
to improve the competitive edge of those in the group or network - the kind of
contradictory phenomena portrayed in the TV series “The Paper Chase” about law
students at Harvard - and thus still very much within the capitalist logic of
the school.)
Sometimes the escape from isolation takes place within the larger
university communities through a great variety of student organizations - from
the apparently purely social to the overtly political. Both provide students
with backup and support for whatever forms of resistance and crafting of
alternatives they may undertake - from organized mutual aid in study through
what Doug Foley calls “playing around in the class room” to collective cheating
and overt collective challenges to the organization and content of a course (or
of curriculum) or to the policies and behaviours of professors.
When such networking becomes
sufficiently wide and challenges the power structures of hierarchy and
alienation openly we begin to speak of student “movements” - such as the Free
Speech Movement at Berkeley in the mid-1960s that challenged the power
structures of that university and demanded an unheard of autonomy of student
control over their own studies and extracurricular activity. Or, more recently,
the massive, year-long student movement at the National Autonomous University
of Mexico, in Mexico City, where tens of thousands of students challenged
neoliberal policies aimed at dramatically increasing the imposition of work.
They occupied the many university campuses and carried their struggles off
campus into the wider community.
Within the overall student
movement of the 1960s there were a wide range of interlinked struggles: the
attacks by anti-war protestors on university complicity with the Pentagon and
capitalist strategy in the Pacific Basin, Black and Chicano Student Union
demands for open admission, for more financial aid, and for a transformation of
the curriculum to meet their needs, feminist struggles against gender discrimination and for their own
needs, demands by all kinds of militant students that various curriculum be
changed to meet their needs (e.g., demands for radical economics, insurgent
sociology, bottom-up history). As a student I was involved in some of these
struggles and as a professor I sometimes benefited from them, e.g., three years
of struggle by radical students in the economic and political science
departments resulted in my getting my present job at the University of Texas to
teach Marx.
Within this wide array of student
struggles we can see both resistance to the imposition of alienating work and
efforts at self-valorization via the imposition of alternatives that meet
student needs.
In such struggles within the
university you can also see examples of the circulation of struggle among
autonomous groupings, e.g., from Black student struggles to anti-war protests,
from feminist struggles to ecological struggles, as well as such circulation to
and from struggles elsewhere in the social factory, e.g,, in black ghettos of
US cities, in rice paddies and jungles of Southeast Asia.
We can also trace of the rise and
fall (or cycles) of struggle, e.g., the anti-Vietnam War protests expanded
rapidly in the late 1960s, swelled to a peak at the time of the Cambodian
Invasion and then subsided as the US began to withdraw from Vietnam. Black and
Chicano student struggles circulated rapidly in the late 1960s and 1970s
continuing the momentum of earlier civil and labor rights movements as well as
the insurgencies of the great urban centers and subsided with the successes in
achieving Black and Chicano Studies. (Such achievements were sometimes lasting
and sometimes transitory. At the University of Texas, for example, you can find
both Black and Chicano Studies programs - the enduring fruit of those
struggles. But it is also true that many “radical” professors hired during the
years of struggle were subsequently purged.) Black student struggles then
swelled again in the 1980s attacks on university investment policies in
international solidarity with the struggle against apartheid in South Africa -
to subside once more with the end of apartheid. Just as Piven and Cloward have
chronicled the cycles of “poor peoples’ movements”, or Italian Marxists have
chronicled the cycles of the struggles of the mass worker, so too is it
possible to write a history of the cycles of student struggles and movements.
Every day I can see the struggles
of individuals and small groups of students coping with the alienations of
school: the physical and mental withdrawals of individuals and the small
collective collaborations, in class and outside of class. Some are creative and
rewarding; too many are merely self-destructive.
From time to time, I am confronted
by efforts at detournement via questions based on students’ own needs or
demands for changes in the course materials (e.g., this last Spring the
overwhelming desire expressed by students to include in my course on
international crisis the case of the Bush Administration’s invasion of Iraq).
From time to time I also see
wider student mobilizations: political meetings and protests, the querying of
the relationship between materials and ideas covered in class and ostensibly
unrelated struggles, critiques of university
complicity with business or with the state in the exploitation of people
and the earth, or in war profiteering.
Once in a while I see open
rebellions - student sit-ins, marches, strikes or rallies - or major collective
initiatives, e.g., for next Fall student activists have organized, on their
own, a course on the class politics of higher education and student struggles.
In that self-organization they asked for my suggestions as to readings and for
my collaboration as the “official” teacher but basically they designed the
course on their own to meet their needs as activists. They were prepared to do
all of this outside any official framework but with a faculty member involved
they can get university credit - thus converting institutional arrangements
designed to impose work on them into vehicles of their own struggles.
Obviously there are limits to all
of these struggles against the imposition of schoolwork and for the achievement
of alternative goals. Isolated individuals can often achieve little other than
survival. Small groups and networks are better not only at survival but at
creating spaces and times for self-valorization beyond resistance. Large-scale
movements, of course, often achieve the most marked results - such as fundamental
changes in course curriculum as mentioned above - but such movements come and
go and students move on, not always leaving even a history of their struggles,
much less a living legacy in the form of a new generation of activists.
Moreover, even when universities make concessions the institutions do their
best to co-opt and instrumentalise such changes and channel ex-student
activists into professional careers where their energy may be more effectively
harnessed for accumulation. Such efforts to harness can be seen in the
formation of Black, Chicano and Women’s Studies that are forced to operate
using the same hierarchical methods for the imposition of work as those
employed elsewhere in the university. The students whose struggles forced the
creation of those studies are put to work just like they were in other courses
- only the content has changed. The most highly motivated, who work hardest and
move on to graduate school and Ph.D.’s may, if all goes well, then be
integrated into the system as professors imposing work on the following
generation of students.
Professors in Struggle
Which brings me from the struggle
of students to those of professors. Unfortunately, as far as I can see, in most
universities in the United States professors are so thoroughly divided and
conquered as to make collective struggle difficult and rare.
Individual professors cope with
the alienations of their jobs - teaching and research/publishing in a variety
of ways. As with students some individuals withdraw. Young professors living
under the threat of being denied tenure and told most explicitly that “publish
or perish” is the rule, withdraw their energy from their class preparations and
lectures and channel it into research and publishing. Older, tenured professors
sometimes withdraw from the fierce backstabbing competition for promotions and
salary increases and re-channel their energies either into teaching or away
from their work altogether.
Other individual professors,
again like students, seek out networks of colleagues for mutual aid (e.g., in
research, in publishing ventures, in reciprocal citation) both to survive - as
in young professors trying to find a protective and productive niche - and to
advanced their careers. In this we can see both a natural resistance to alienation
and, all too often, a embrace of precisely that competition that the university
uses to pit professors against each other.
In the classroom individual
professors who design their courses, and departmental committees of professors
who design curriculum (the sequence of courses leading to a degree) have some
leeway or “academic freedom” in their choices - more certainly than the
students upon whom they will impose those courses and that curriculum. Within
typical mainstream courses professors can structure their presentation of
material in a critical manner, challenging received wisdom and even attacking
capitalism. A very few of us can craft whole courses, even sequences of
courses, that explore bodies of ideas critical of, and struggles against, capitalism,
e.g., my courses on Marxian theory.
But that “academic freedom” is
usually dramatically overstated. The design of curriculum is overwhelmingly
shaped by the styles and fashions of the professions of which the professors in
a given institution are but one competitive part. Most feel compelled to teach
courses whose content corresponds to the currently dominant approaches in their
fields, e.g., in the post-WWII period most economics departments offered core
sequences of neoclassical microeconomics and Keynesian macro-economics. In the
present neoliberal period of market-worship microeconomics has come to largely
displace macroeconomics as a separate field and most other fields have been
reduced to mere applications of microeconomic methodologies. The room for maneuver in such situations is
limited - both by the amount of material that has to be covered the courses
(leaving little time for critique) and by most professors’ adherence to the
fashions of their profession. Those of us who move entirely outside such
fashions are few and we usually “pay” - quite literally by being marginalized,
not promoted and excluded from wage increases and other perks. Some of us, of
course, find more than adequate compensation in the satisfactions of working
with students willing and able to think critically, including student activists
engaged in various struggles, and thus participating in, and contributing to,
the circulation of struggle across time, space and experiences.
The pressures that shape research
and writing for publication are even more acute. Only peer-reviewed articles,
books and research grants are considered significant for promotion or wage
increases and the “peers” who control professional journals, the editorial
houses and the institutions doling out research monies almost systematically
impose the very pro-capitalist fashions of the day as one choice criterion for
accepting or rejecting submissions. Within such a situation creativity is
sharply limited to crafting variations within a narrow theoretical and
methodological sphere. Professors may be somewhat less alienated from their
work than students - by having more control over how they teach - but they are
also working according to others’ wills, both those of university
administrators, those of the trend-setting “leaders” of their professions and
those who fund both.
Those who resist such pressures
to do what is necessary to get published in such a framework, even more than
those who refuse to participate in preaching the dominant theories and policies,
usually find themselves either excluded entirely from the university (refused
tenure) or sharply marginalized in terms of income, perks and a voice in
decision making. In rare instances, a small number of those who refuse to go
along with the dominant fashions of their professions are able to carve out
spaces for themselves - even becoming a dominant force in a few isolated
departments, or creating new departments (e.g., Black Studies). But the price
for this is usually submission to the rules and regulations of the larger
institution to the point where they become - as I suggested above - just as
much functionaries of the capitalist imposition of work and discipline on
students as any mainstream group of professors.
As such dynamics suggest, it is extremely
rare to find much evidence of collective resistance by university professors to
either the imposition of work on themselves or to their role of imposing it on
students. In a few instances, where state laws allow it, professors have formed
unions to defend their rights and fight for better wages and working
conditions. But mostly the intense competition among them effectively
undermines such efforts and the best they can do is form such bodies as
“Faculty Councils” to “advise” university administrators on faculty points of
view - to which administrators may give lip service but are usually under no
obligation to heed.
As can be deduced from the above
description of the working conditions of professors, they suffer, though
sometimes to a lesser degree, from all the alienations that afflict students:
alienation from their work (as they find themselves pressured to teach such and
such subjects, to research such and such issues, to utilize such and such
methodologies, to impose grades and incur the hostile antagonism of students -
as opposed to having the “academic freedom” university ideology asserts them to
have), alienation from their product (their students’ labor power - which at
the graduate level may soon be pitted against them - and their own labor power
and research results that contribute to the system of control that confines
them), alienation from their colleagues (in competition for promotion, wage
increases, research grants, and other perks) and ultimately alienation from
their species-being (the free exercise of their will).
All this is true regardless of
how professors feel about their work. It is probably not much of an
overstatement to say that most professors identify with their work and only
occasionally feel it as an imposition. Indeed, given the dedication required to
work as hard as is necessary to compete and win in the academic market place,
it is not surprising to find a large number of professors to be workaholics, to
have thoroughly internalised the values of the system in which they work. This
is a measure not only of their dedication but of the efficacy of a system whose
“Maxwell’s Daemons” (“peer” reviewers and university administrators) have
carefully selected and promoted those competitors who have demonstrated through
their work low levels of entropy and have excluded those less competitive, high
entropy professors who have refused to channel as much of their life energy
into their work.
At the same time, the
contradiction between the conscious dedication of such workaholics to their
jobs and the alienations that in fact constrict, narrow and poison their lives
often lead to all the nasty consequences common to workaholics in any job
category. They often suffer from chronic stress and anxiety with nasty
consequences for their health. Endless hours of research may create isolation
from and an inability to communicate with or meet the needs of spouses,
children and friends that leads to further alienation and sometimes broken
marriages, homes and friendships.
Not surprisingly in virtually all
widespread resistance and rebellion on university campuses students take the
lead and professors are either passive spectators or work with administrators
to limit and constrain student actions. In some cases struggle may circulate
from students to faculty and a few of the latter may speak up in support of
student demands or participate in student organized struggles - as advisors,
speakers, sources of information and so on, but the initiative almost always
begins with students. In my experience - which runs from the Civil Rights and
anti-Vietnam War movements of the 1960s through the anti-apartheid and
anti-intervention (in Central America) movements of the 1980s to the anti-Gulf
Wars and anti-globalization movements of the 1990s and current period,
participation by faculty, much less leadership, has been the exception rather
than the rule.
[2] The J18 mobilization sought to link up the autonomous struggles of
‘environmentalists, workers, the unemployed, indigenous peoples, trade
unionists, peasant groups, women’s networks, the landless, students, peace
activists and many more’. See
http://bak.spc.org/j18/site/english.html
[3] In political
discourse in the UK, ‘workerism’ is usually a derogatory term for approaches we
disagree with for fetishizing the significance of workplace struggles (and
dismissing those outside the workplace). Italian operaismo, on the other hand, refers to the inversion of
perspective from that of the operation of capital to that of the working class:
‘We too have worked with a concept that puts capitalist development first, and
workers second. This is a mistake. And now we have to turn the problem on its
head, reverse the polarity, and start from the beginning: and the beginning is
the class struggle of the working class. At the level of socially developed
capital, capitalist development becomes subordinated to working class
struggles; it follows behind them, and they set the pace to which the political
mechanisms of capital’s own reproduction must be tuned.’ (M. Tronti, 1964,
‘Lenin in England’, in Working Class
Autonomy and the Crisis (London: Red Notes/Conference of Socialist
Economists, 1979). While the Italian usage is clearly positive rather than
negative, as we shall see, one of the eventual limits of (versions of) Italian
workerism was precisely the fetishizing of struggles on the factory floor.
[4] ‘The new
“technical bases” progressively attained in production provide capitalism with
new possibilities for the consolidation of its power… But for this very reason,
working-class overthrow of the system is a negation of the entire organization
in which capitalist development is expressed – and first and foremost of
technology as it is linked to productivity.’ (R. Panzieri, ‘The capitalist use
of machinery: Marx versus the objectivists’ in P. Slater (ed.), Outlines of a Critique of Technology
(pp. 49-60), London: Inks Links.
[5] ‘At the highest
level of capitalist development, the
social relation becomes a moment of
the relation of production, the whole of society becomes an articulation of production; in other
words, the whole of society exists as a function of the factory and the factory
extends its exclusive domination over the whole of society. It is on this basis
that the machine of the political state tends ever-increasingly to become one
with the figure of the collective
capitalist.’ (M. Tronti 1971 Operai e
capitale, Turin: Einaudi).
[6] S. Bologna (1977).
‘The tribe of moles’, In Working Class
Autonomy and the Crisis (op. cit.).
[7] A. Negri (1973).
‘Partito operaio contro il lavoro’, in S. Bologna et al., (eds.) Crisi e Organnizzazione Operaia (Milan:
Feltrinelli, 1974)
[8] See Negri's
(1982) ‘Archaeology and project: The mass worker and the social worker’, in Revolution Retrieved: Selected Writings on
Marx, Keynes, Capitalist Crisis & New Social Subjects 1967-83. (London:
Red Notes, 1988).
[9] See ‘Decadence:
The theory of decline or the decline of theory? Part two’, footnote 83, Aufheben 3, Summer 1994.
[10] An opposite
Marxian response to the ‘problem’ of the class basis of revolution, as provided
by Moishe Postone in Time Labor and
Social Domination and the Krisis group, is to retain Marx’s work as a
critique of commodity society and value but disconnect this from class.
[11] P.
Linebaugh (1991). The London Hanged.
Harmondsworth: Penguin.
[12] Negri introduced
the term ‘self-valorization’ for this process of autonomous self-development
(see Marx Beyond Marx: Lessons on the
Grundrisse, New York/London: Autonomedia/Pluto, 1991). The attraction of
the concept lies in its implication that the working class is an active
subject, not just a function of capital's valorization needs, and whose
strategy is to take what it needs.
Comment:
Not really. The attraction of the concept is not that the working class is
viewed as an active subject per se - that is recognized by “autonomists”
who reject the notion of self-valorization - but that its activity includes
more than resistance, more even than taking the initiative (as opposed to being
purely re-active). The “more” that is central here is its ability to move
beyond itself qua “working” class and craft new ways of being.
However, in Marx, the concept of ‘valorization’ refers to
capital's own operation - specifically, its use of our activity to expand value, that is, our alienated labour. It
therefore seems extremely odd to employ it to refer to our activity against
capital - unless that activity too is itself alienated in some way. In the
preface to the second edition of Reading
‘Capital’ Politically, Cleaver acknowledges that the concept is problematic
(as he does in his interview with Massimo de Angelis in Vis-a-Vis, 1993). However, he still uses it to explain that, in
being against capital, autonomous
struggles are also for ‘a diverse
variety of new ways of being’.
Comment:
Yes, but I don’t use the concept “to explain” this, I rather explain how the concept draws our attention to such
positive phenomena.
See also his ‘The inversion
of class perspective in Marxian theory: From valorization to self-valorization’
in W. Bonefeld, R. Gunn & K. Psychopedis (eds.) Open Marxism: Volume II: Theory and Practice (London: Pluto).
[13] The point is well
put in ‘Marianne Duchamp talks to Tursan Polat about class’: ‘First, there are
differences, and not mere differences but oppositions of the first order,
between the sociologic conception of socio-economic
categories on the one hand and the hegelo-communist conception of social-class on the other. In the
sociological conception, socio-economic categories, including ‘class’ and an
inexhaustible number of constituent sub-strata, are defined: (a) beginning with
the particular i.e. the individual, i.e. analytically/inductively; (b) as
transtemporal aggregates of individuals who share commonalities of occupation,
income, and even culture; (c) as static and normal presence within any society,
i.e. biologically. In the hegelo-communist conception, social classes are
defined: (a) beginning from the whole i.e. the social form i.e.
synthetically/deductively; (b) as active bearers of the mutually opposed
historical interests inherent within the social form; (c) with a view toward
the abolition of state and economy; i.e. necrologically.’ http://www.angelfire.com/pop2/pkv/class.htm
[14] See Dole Autonomy versus the Re-imposition of
Work: Analysis of the Current Tendency to Workfare in the UK (only
available now on our website), ‘Unemployed recalcitrance and welfare
restructuring in the UK today’ (in Stop
the Clock! Critiques of the New Social Workhouse) and ‘Re-imposition of
work in Britain and the “Social Europe”’ (in Aufheben #8, 1999).
[15] p. 792, Penguin
edition.
[16] For example, in
the 1930s, the Communist Party, which nominally controlled the National Unemployed
Workers' Movement (NUWM), saw the NUWM's role as limited to tail-ending
existing industrial strikes. The NUWM leaders, despite their membership of the
CPGB, asserted the role of the unemployed movement to act in its own right. See
Wal Hannington (1936), Unemployed
Struggles 1919-1936: My Life and Struggles Amongst the Unemployed
(Wakefield: EP Publishing).
[17] American black
struggles inspired the Italian workerists: ‘American Blacks do not simply
represent, but rather are, the
proletariat of the Third World within the very heart of the capitalist system… Black Power means therefore the autonomous
revolutionary organisation of Blacks’ (Potere Operaio veneto-emilano, 1967,
cited in Wright, p. 132).
[18] An
examination (and critique) of the issues around the Dalla Costa & Selma
James pamphlet The Power of Women and the Subversion of Community, the ‘Wages
for Housework’ demand and more recent discussions (e.g. Fortunadi's The Arcane of Reproduction) would be
useful,
but is beyond the scope of the present article.
[19] See ‘A commune in
Chiapas? Mexico and the Zapatista rebellion’, Aufheben #9, 2000, especially pp. 20-22. While we took Holloway as
the academic Marxist overestimating the working class and revolutionary
significance of the Zapatista rebellion,
Cleaver represents this tendency even more clearly. His refusal to consider
criticisms of the Zapatistas and Marcos come across as just as ideological as
previous Marxist defences of ‘actually existing socialism’. For example: ‘a
woman said of the ’96 encuentros: “the women [were] doing all the cooking and
cleaning, including of toilets, invariably without any footwear (the men had
the boots), even after the heavy rainfall… Harry Cleaver said ‘Well, maybe they
like it’…”’ (cited in You Make Plans – We
Make History, 2001;
http://www.webcom.com/maxang/combust/you_make_Plans_We_Make_History.htm).
Comment:
I remember the conversation very well and how amazed I was at both the self
righteousness and urban ignorance of the woman who made the comment about who
had boots and who didn’t. And as I remember the exchange it was not the fact
that women were barefoot but that children were running around in the deep mud
without boots while the Zapatista soldiers, like Marcos, had them. Moreover, my
response to her disdainful criticism was to suggest - from my own experience
growing up in the country - that the kids probably liked the feel of mud - on
their feet and between their toes - I did when I was a kid, as I liked the feel
of dust in summer, and in general the direct contact between my bare feet and
the earth. The woman couldn’t even imagine what I was talking about and her
later account of the exchange (quoted in the document whose URL is given above)
shows that she never was able to understand. That the so-called reviewers offer
a quote of this woman’s ravings as evidence of my “refusal to consider
criticisms of the Zapatistas” amazes me. I have repeatedly responded to
criticisms of the Zapatistas for the last seven years and those responses are
not hard to find on the Internet. As for women doing the “cooking and cleaning”
at the Encuentro, that is typical of the patriarchal division of labor in
indigenous villages - including those Zapatista base communities that hosted
the encuentro. The Zapatistas have been struggling against that patriarchy for
years, within their army and within their communities - something I have
acknowledged in everything I have written about their struggles.
[20] See T. Shanin
(ed., 1983) Late Marx and the Russian
Road (London: Routledge); and T. Shanin (1972) The Awkward Class (Oxford: Oxford University Press).
[21] J. Camatte (1972) Community and Communism in Russia.
[22] ‘The student was
already a proletarian by virtue of a subordinate location within the university
division of labour. To the extent that existing stipends became a fully-fledged
wage, she would be transformed from an “impure social figure on the margins of
the valorisation process” into a fully-fledged “wage worker producing surplus
value”’ (Cazzaniga et al., 1968, cited in Wright, p. 95).
[23] See ‘The
worker-student assemblies in Turin, 1969’ in Working Class Autonomy and the Crisis (op. cit.).
[24] An irony of such an approach is that it implies that the right
thing for them to do is be bad students, yet Cleaver himself has been a good
student and gathers other such good students around him.
Comment: Wrong. I have always been a bad student in the
sense of not doing what I was supposed to be doing - as my “report cards” from
elementary and secondary school, and my college transcripts make clear. I
refused much of the work imposed and channelled my energy, imagination and
creativity into extracurricular projects of science, poetry, art, music and
politics - depending on the period of my life. During the anti-Vietnam War
period, for example, I flunked an entire year of graduate school because all my
time and energy went into the movement. I survived in school and the university
despite such behavior either because the things I were doing were recognized as
having a valuable academic dimension (e.g., scientific research) and thus not
entirely outside the logic of school or because political pressures made it
difficult to penalize me (graduate school, tenure) by kicking me out. As a
university professor I have indeed been penalized in recent years for not
playing by the rules through systematic attacks on my real wage but amusingly,
the only time I have been actually thrown out because of my refusal was at the
New School for Social Research where I was purged by Old Left Marxists (Trots,
Maoists, and the like) and Marxologists who didn’t like my interpretation of
Marx! (More on school work and the struggle against it at end of the article.)
[25] In fact, a focus
on the side of struggle today might lead Cleaver to re-re-define students as
middle class after all. With the wider retreat of collective proletarian
resistance, and even as more people have entered university from working class
backgrounds, so the incidence of overt struggles in the universities has
declined.
Comment:
Sorry, I am not so led. See comments at end of article.
[26] In fact, for many
Marxist academics, the prefix ‘radical’ has now been replaced by ‘critical’,
reflecting the general retreat of the class struggle which for the
intelligensia takes the form of a (still further) retreat into the realm of
ideas and arguments.
Comment:
Who is being attacked here? Without naming names or collective activities this
comes across as being pure anti-intellectualism. The term “intelligentsia” is
derogatory. It is quite possible to point to specific groups of self-proclaimed
“radicals” or “critical theorists” and critique their practice along with their
theory. That this is so, however, hardly warrants the blanket condemnation
being ladled out here.
[27] This point was
ably made in Refuse (BM Combustion
1978): ‘The “opposition” by counter-specialists to the authoritarian expertise
of the authoritarian experts offers yet another false choice to the political
consumer. These “radical” specialists (radical lawyers, radical architects,
radical philosophers, radical psychologists, radical social workers –
everything but radical people)
attempt to use their expertise to de-mystify expertise. The contradiction was
best illustrated by a Case Con “revolutionary” social worker, who cynically
declared to a public meeting, “The difference between us and a straight social
worker is that we know we’re
oppressing our clients”. Case Con is the spirit of a spiritless situation, the
sigh of the oppressed oppressor, it’s the ‘socialist’ conscience of the guilt
ridden social worker, ensuring that vaguely conscious social workers remain in
their job while feeling they are
rejecting their role…
Comment:
As for the demystification of expertise, it is hardly surprising nor worthy of
critique that those most familiar with the actual character of particular
“expertise” will be the ones best able to demystify it. We saw this in the
anti-nuclear power movement, how scientists and engineers familiar with the
technology came forward to debunk and critique other “expert” claims as well as
state efforts to convince people that the management of the technology should
be left to those “experts” it had hired to push a technology that it wanted. As
for the particular case cited in the quote, it’s hard to judge the
characterization here without hearing what was originally said. Certainly if
the only thing that the quoted worker saw differentiating himself was his
knowledge of his role in social control then that’s pathetic. On the other
hand, if that knowledge becomes the basis for subverting that role, then the
critique being made here misses the mark. In my experience most of those who
come to understand the repressive aspects of their work do try to subvert it.
The academic
counter-specialists attempt to attack (purely bourgeois) ideology at the point
of production: the university. Unwilling to attack the institution, the
academic milieu, the very concept of education as a separate activity from
which ideas of separate power arise, they remain trapped in the fragmented
categories they attempt to criticise…
Comment:
yes, those who are unwilling to struggle against the institutions in which they
work are complicit, but no, many are
willing and have elaborated extensive critiques, produced films of critique and
have been involved in struggles against repressive aspects of their
institutions or fought to create free space within them, or have carried their
struggles outside them into other places. Examples of all of the above are easy
to find.
In saying social workers are
just like any other worker, he [the Case Con social worker] conveniently
ignores the authority role that social workers intrinsically have, plus the
fact that when they participate in the class struggle they don’t do so by
“radicalizing” their specific place in the division of labour (e.g. radical
dockers, radical mechanics) but by revolting against it.’ (pp. 10-11, 23).
Comment:
This distinction, once again, between radical-some-particular-worker vs
revolutionary is unhelpful. There are many terrains of struggle on both the job
site and beyond. The real issue is not the terrain but the nature of the
struggle carried on and how it relates to struggles elsewhere.
[28] See ‘A commune in
Chiapas? Mexico and the Zapatista rebellion’, footnote 33, Aufheben #9, 2000.
[29] ‘we cannot
understand class unless we see it as a social and cultural formation, arising
from processes which can only be studied as they work themselves out over a
considerable historical period.’ (E.P. Thompson, 1963, The Making of the English Working Class, Harmondsworth: Penguin).
[30] Op. cit.
[31] ‘Leftism’ is a concept we find
useful but is perhaps tricky to define. It can be thought of in terms of those
practices which echo some of the language of communism but which in fact
represent the movement of the left-wing of capital.
Comment: At last a definition of
“leftism”. And what is it? It is a label applied to anyone who uses the
language of Marxism but who is dismissed as really being capitalist. It is a
label that bespeaks old sectarian habits of denouncing other sects for not
being real revolutionaries but reactionaries in disguise. In the language of
earlier sectarians, such people were called the “running dogs of imperialism”
or the “lackeys of the bourgeoisie” who hid their subservience to capital
behind a Marxist tinged rhetoric. Of course, ironically, those who did such
denouncing - most significantly Soviet and Chinese Communists and their
followers - were often busy crafting their own versions of state capitalism.
However, for us an important
point is to get away from the picture in which there is a pure class struggle
only interfered with and prevented from generating communism by the
interference of an exterior force (from the bourgeoisie) of leftism. A question
arises of why the class struggle allows itself to be so diverted. It is
important to recognize that, though some leftists are clearly part of the
bourgeoisie or at least of the state, the power of leftism/trade unionism etc.
comes from the fact that the working class generates leftism from within itself
as an expression of its own current limits.
Comment: Echos of the Communist Manifesto. What explained
such phenomena as “utopian socialism”? The current limits of working class
maturity, of course. How different from either the writings of Marx in the
1860s, or of autonomist analyses of class composition in the 1960s.
[32] ‘The tribe of
moles’, op cit. p. 89.
[33] For Marx formal
organizations were only episodes in ‘the history of the party which is growing
spontaneously everywhere from the soil of modern society.’ Quoted in, J.
Camatte Origin and Function of the Party
Form
(http://www.geocities.com/cordobakaf/camatte_origins.html).
Camatte’s discussion there in a sense takes the discourse on the party to the
extreme where it dissolves, allowing his later perspectives of this in On Organization.
[34] Wright (p. 66)
suggests that the earlier workerists had no time for the left’s Third Worldism
and support for nationalist struggles. However, a front cover of Potere Operaio magazine from the 1970s
called for victory to the PLO-ETA-IRA.
[35] This (moralistic)
attitude of cheer-leading ‘Third World’ (national liberation) struggles and
contempt for the Western working class was an expression of the middle class
social relations characteristic of these students.
[36] See, for example, http://lanic.utexas.edu/project/Zapatistas/INTRO.TXT
[37] See ‘Crisis of
the planner-state: Communism and revolutionary organization’ (1971) in Revolution Retrieved (op. cit.).
[38] Though we like
his phrase ‘money is the face of the boss’.
[39] See ‘Review:
Midnight Oil: Work, Energy, War, 1973-92’ (Aufheben
#3, 1994) and ‘Escape from the Law of Value?’ (Aufheben #5, 1996).
[40] See Cleaver's
useful summary of Negri's position in his Introduction to Negri's Marx Beyond Marx: Lessons on the Grundrisse
(New York/London: Autonomedia/Pluto Press, 1991).
[41] See for example
Toni Negri, ‘Keynes and the capitalist theory of the state post-1929’ in Revolution Retreived (op. cit.).
[42] Negri (1976) Proletari e Stato (2nd edn.,
Milan: Feltrinelli.
[43] ‘Your interest
for the “emergent strata” (proletarian youth, feminists, homosexuals) and for
new, and reconceptualised, political subjects (the “operaio sociale”) has always been and is still shared by us. But
precisely the undeniable political importance of these phenomena demands
extreme analytical rigour, great investigative caution, a strongly empirical
approach (facts, data, observations and still more observations, data, facts).’
(Rivolta di classe, 1976, cited in
Wright, p. 171).
[44] For a good
account of the extent of recent ‘hidden’ struggles in the US today, see Curtis
Price's ‘Fragile prosperity? Fragile social peace’ in Collective Action Notes (available at
http://www.geocities.com/CapitolHill/Lobby/2379/fragile_prosperity.htm)
[45] See Wildcat’s
article ‘Reforming the welfare state in order to save capitalism’ in Stop the Clock! Critiques of the New Social
Workhouse (Aufheben, 2000).
[46] Op. cit.
[47] See F.C. Shortall
(1994), The Incomplete Marx
(Aldershot: Avebury).
[48] On the other hand, Cleaver also contends that what he is doing is
not so different from Marx: ‘Marx illustrates these relations [of use-value and
exchange-value] with a variety of apparently innocuous commodities: linen,
iron, watches, and corn (wheat). I say apparently because most of these
commodities played a key role in the period of capitalist development which
Marx analysed: linen in the textile industry, iron in the production of
machinery and cannon, watches in the timing of work, wheat as the basic means
of subsistence of the working class. To be just as careful in this exposition,
I suggest that we focus on the key commodities of the current period: labour
power, food and energy. (p. 98). However, while Cleaver is probably right that
Marx did not make an arbitrary choice of which commodities to mention in
Chapter 1, their function in Marx’s presentation is arbitrary. Unlike the
political economists, Marx does give attention to the use-value side of the
economy; but here in his opening chapter he makes no mention of the
concreteness of these use-values in the class struggle. At this point of Marx’s
presentation of the capitalist mode of production, the precise use-values are
irrelevant. Marx’s reference to linen, corn etc. is a part of a logical
presentation, not a reference to concrete struggles.
[49] I.I. Rubin, Essays on Marx’s Theory of Value (1973,
New York/Montreal: Black Rose Books).
[50] Cleaver’s claim
(p. 138) that while Marxists have examined the question of the content of value
at length almost no work has been done on the issue of the form of value (and
hence the necessity for Cleaver’s own analysis) includes reference to Rubin.
But this in itself suggests that Cleaver hasn’t understood (and perhaps hasn’t
even read) Rubin’s book, the whole of which is concerned precisely with the
social form of value.
Comment:
The problem is not that I haven’t read Rubin or understood Rubin, but that
these reviewers apparently didn’t bother to actually read beyond the
introduction to my book. If they had they would have recognized - and might
have discussed - the difference between Rubin’s notion of value as an
expression of the social relations of capitalist production and mine. See
comment in main body of the text.
[51] Up until the
1970s, at least in the English speaking world, Marx was seen as having simply
developed and refined Ricardo’s labour theory of value. In this traditional
interpretation, Marx, like Ricardo, was seen to adhere to an embodied labour
conception of value. What was common to all commodities, and hence what it was
that made them commensurate with each other as manifestations of this common
factor, was that they were all products of the ‘expenditure of human brains,
nerves and muscles’, that is of human labour in general. Consequently, the
value of a commodity was seen to be determined by the labour embodied in it
during its production.
With this physiological, or
quasi-physicalist, conception of labour, the Ricardian labour theory of value
conceived value as merely a technical relation: the value of a commodity was
simply determined by the amount of labour-energy necessary for its production.
As such the Ricardian labour theory of value could in principle be applied to
any form of society.
For Rubin, what was specific about
the capitalist mode of production was that producers did not produce products
for their own immediate needs but rather produced commodities for sale. The
labour allocated to the production of any particular commodity was not
determined prior to production by custom or by a social plan and therefore it
was not immediately social labour. Labour only became social labour, a
recognised part of the social division of labour, through sale of the commodity
it produced. Furthermore, the exchange of commodities was a process of real
abstraction through which the various types of concrete labour were reduced to
a common substance - abstract social labour. This abstract social labour was
the social substance of value.
Rubin’s abstract social labour theory of value necessarily entailed an account
of commodity fetishism since it was concerned with how labour as a social
relation must manifest itself in the form of value in a society in which
relations between people manifest themselves as relations between things.
In the mid-1970s the labour theory of value came
under attack from the neo-Ricardian school which argued that it was both
redundant and inconsistent. Rubin’s abstract social labour theory of value was
then rediscovered as a response to such criticisms in the late 1970s. Although
Cleaver dismisses Rubin there have been attempts to address his abstract social
labour theory of value from the tradition of autonomia - see for example the article by Massimo De Angelis in Capital & Class 57 (Autumn 1995).
[52] ‘An official
Soviet philosopher wrote that “The followers of Rubin and the Menshevizing
Idealists ... treated Marx’s revolutionary method in the spirit of
Hegelianism... The Communist Party has smashed these trends alien to Marxism.”
... Rubin was imprisoned, accused of belonging to an organization that never
existed, forced to “confess” to events that never took place, and finally
removed from among the living.’ (Fredy Perlman, About the Author, in Rubin’s Essays on Marx’s Theory of Value (op.
cit.)
[53] We made this same
point in our reply to Cleaver's associate George Caffentzis of Midnight Oil/Midnight Notes (see ‘Escape from the Law of Value?’ in Aufheben #5, 1996, p. 41).
[54] See F.C. Shortall
(1994), The Incomplete Marx
(Aldershot: Avebury).
[55] Harvard: Harvard
University Press, 2000.
[56] Mark
Leonard, ‘The left should love globalization’, New Statesman, 28th May 2001. Leonard is director of the
Foreign Policy Centre think-tank and apparently a Blairite.
[57] This break was, as for a lot of militants of that period, quite
physical. Arrested in 1979, Negri went into exile in 1983. However, his
particular form of escape (getting elected as a MP) and the warm welcome and
relatively cushy position that awaited him in France were based on the
different status he held (as a professor) compared with other militants; thus
sections of the movement saw him somewhat as a traitor.
Comment: This is a scurrilous personal attack. In the
first place, Negri’s “escape” only began with being elected to parliament. He
was about to have his parliamentary immunity revoked and be returned to prison
when he physically escaped Italy to France. Second, the warm welcome he
received in France had little to do with his being a professor and a great deal
to do with 1) the fact that his writings had been translated and published
there and 2) there was a whole mobilization against repression in Italy that
welcomed many exiles. Moreover, a great many of those exiles were
professors, not just Negri. To the degree that Negri was considered by anyone
to be a “traitor” it was because of his finally publishing a critique and
repudiation of the Brigada Rosa and such groups. Many of those in the movement,
while disagreeing with BR methods, considered critiquing them to be playing
into the hands of the state that was using them as leverage in much wider
repression. The attitude was akin to those in the US who opposed any critique
of the Sandinistas in the 1980s when they were under attack by the Reagan
Administration’s “contra” war against them.
His
return to Italy has not succeeded in redeeming him; nor has his credibility
been restored by recent pronouncements, such as his advice to the
anti-globalization movement that the ‘20% of voters’ alienated from the
political system need to be won back to electoral politics. (See ‘Social
struggles in Italy: Creating a new left in Italy’,
http://slash.autonomedia.org/article.pl?sid=02/08/10/1643246)
[58] Of course, it is
possible to reject the leftist inanities of ‘anti-imperialism’ while
recognizing the realities of imperialist rivalries.
[60] The Society of the Spectacle, at least,
appears in Cleaver's bibliographical history of the ‘autonomist Marxist’
tradition, appended to Negri's Marx
Beyond Marx (op. cit.).
[61] While Cleaver’s
decision to leave Reading ‘Capital’
Politically as it was rather than re-write it is understandable, what is
perhaps less understandable – unless one wants to suggest that he is simply
dogmatic – is his failure to use the new Preface to acknowledge the weaknesses
in his analysis that have emerged with hindsight. The continued uncritical
lauding of ‘Wages for Housework’ is one example; another is the claims made
about the role of inflation made in the 1970s.
Comment:
Why should I acknowledge something I don’t recognize to be true? The historical
contributions of the Wages for Housework movement to the development of Marxist
theory are, to my mind, undeniable and durable. Not only did they set off a
widespread debate among Marxists but their basic insights into the importance
of reproduction in accumulation and of the ability of struggles against
reproduction to rupture accumulation are as useful today as they were when they
were first laid out. The same goes for the analysis of inflation that was
spelled out in Zerowork in 1975 and latter in Midnight Notes and
elsewhere. The recognition of how prices were being wielded against the working
class, of how money was being used as a weapon, filled a yawning gap in the
Marxist analysis of crisis. Such issues had been largely neglected for years in
both theory and the analysis of state policy. There is nothing to apologize
for. These reviewers would clearly like me to recant virtually the totality of
the ideas spelled out in this book. Sorry but it isn’t going to happen. To
label me “dogmatic” because I think much of what I wrote before is still
accurate is mere name calling.