Anton Pannekoek Reader

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ANTON PANNEKOEK READER

Anton Pannekoek 1902

The Position and Significance of J. Dietzgen’s

Philosophical WorksIn the history of philosophy we see before us the consecutive forms of the thoughts of the ruling classessociety on life and on the world at large. This class thought appears after the primitive communism has giway to a society with class antagonisms, at a stage when the wealth of the members of the ruling class gathem leisure time and thus stimulated them to turn their attention to the productions of the mind. T beginning of this thought is found in classic Greece. But it assumed its clearest and best developed fowhen the modern bourgeoisie had become the ruling class in capitalistic Europe and the thinkers gaexpression to the ideas of this class. The characteristic mark of these ideas is dualism, that is to say tmisunderstood contrast between thinking and being, between nature and spirit, the result of the menunclearness of this class and of its incapacity to see the things of the world in their true interconnection. Tmental state is but the expression of the division of mankind into classes and of the uncomprehended natof social production ever since it became a production of goods for exchange.

In times of primitive communism, the conditions of production were clear and easily understood. Thinwere produced ointly for use and consumed in common. !an was master of his mode of production anthus master of his own fate as far as the superior forces of nature admitted it. "nder such conditions, socideas could not help being simple and clear. There being no clash between personal and social interests, mhad no conception of a deep chasm between good and bad. #nly the uncontrolled forces of nature stood liunintelligible and mysterious powers, that appeared to them either as well meaning or as evil spirits, abothese primitive little societies.

But with the advent of the production of commodities the picture changes. $ivili%ed humanity begins to itself somewhat relieved from the hard and ungovernable pressure of fickle natural forces. But now ndemons arise out of social conditions. &'o sooner did the producers give their products away in exchaninstead of consuming them as heretofore, than they lost control of them. They no longer knew what becaof their products, and there was a possibility that these products might some day be used for the exploitatand oppression of the producers ( The products rule the producers) *Engels+. In the production commodities, it is not the purpose of the individual producer which is accomplished, but rather that whthe productive forces back of him are aiming at. !an proposes, but a social power, stronger than himseldisposes he is no longer master of his fate. The inter-relations of production become complicated adifficult to grasp. hile it is true that the individual is the producing unit, yet the individual labor is only subordinate part of the whole process of social production, of which he remains a tool. The fruits of the laof many are en oyed by a few individuals. The social co-operation is concealed behind a violent competitstruggle of the producers against one another. The interests of the individuals are at war with those society. Good, that is to say the consideration of the common welfare, is opposed to bad, that is to say sacrifice of everything to private interests. The passions of men as well as their mental gifts, after they ha been aroused, developed, trained, strengthened, and refined in this struggle, henceforth become so maweapons which a superior power turns against their helpless possessors.

/uch were the impressions out of which thinking men were obliged to fashion their world-philosophy, whiat the same time, they were members of the possessing classes and had thus an opportunity to employ thleisure for a certain self-study, without, however, being in touch with the source of their impressions, vthe process of social labor which alone could have enabled them to see through the social origin of thideas. !en of this class, therefore, were led to the assumption that their ideas emanated from somsupernatural and spiritual power or that they were themselves independent supernatural powers. The dua

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metaphysical mode of thought has gone through various transformations in the course of time, adapting itto the evolution of production beginning with ancient slavery, on through the serfdom of the !iddle 1geand of mediaeval commodity production, to modern capitalism. These successive changes of form aembodied in Grecian philosophy, in the various phases of the $hristian religion, and in the modern systeof philosophy.

But we must not regard these systems and religions for what they generally pass, that is to say, we must think them to be only repeated unsuccessful attempts to formulate absolute truth. They are merely tincarnations of progressive stages of better knowledge ac2uired by the human mind about itself and ab

the universe. It was the aim of philosophical thought to find satisfaction in understanding. 1nd as long understanding could not wholly be gotten by natural means, there remained always a field for tsupernatural and incomprehensible. But by the painstaking mental work of the deepest thinkers, the mateof science was ceaselessly increased, and the field of the supernatural and incomprehensible was evnarrowed. 1nd this is especially the case since the progress of capitalist production has promoted th persistent study of nature. 3or through this study the human mind was enabled to test its powers by simp2uiet, persistent and fruitful labor in the search for successive parts of truth, and thus to rid itself from overirritation of hopeless 2uest after absolute truth. The desire to ascertain the value of these new truths grise to the problems of the theory of understanding. But the supernatural element in these systems preventheir perfection.

"nder the impulse of the technical re2uirements of capitalism, the evolution of natural sciences becametriumphal march of the human mind. 'ature was sub ugated first through the discovery of its laws by thhuman mind, and then by the material subordination of the known forces of nature to the human will in service of our main ob ect, the production of the necessaries of life with a minimum expenditure of enerBut this bright shining light rendered, by contrast, the gloom which surrounded the phenomena of humsociety only the darker, and capitalism in its development still accentuates this contrast, as it accentuates athus renders more easily visible and intelligible all contrasts. hile the natural sciences dispensed with amysterious secrecy within their narrower domain, the darkness shrouding the origin of ideas still offerewelcome refuge to the belief in miracles on the spiritual field.

$apitalism is now approaching its decline. /ocialism is near. 1nd the vital importance of this transitiocannot be stated more strongly than in the words of !arx and Engels4 &This concludes the primary historyman. 5e thereby passes definitely out of the animal kingdom.) The social regulation of production makman fully the master of his own fate. 'o longer does any mysterious social power then thwart his plans o eopardise his success. 'or does any mysterious natural force control him henceforth. 5e is no longer thslave, but the master of nature. 5e has investigated its effects, understands them, and presses them into hservice. 3or the first time in his history he will then be the ruler of the earth.

e now see that the many centuries that filled the history of civili%ation were a necessary preparation fsocialism, a slow struggle to escape from nature6s slavery, a gradual increase in the productivity of laborto the point where the necessaries of life for all may be obtained almost without exertion. This is the pri

merit of capitalism and its ustification, that after so many centuries of hardly perceptible progress it tauman to con2uer nature by a rapid result. 1t the same time it set loose the forces of production and finaltransformed and bared the springs of the productive process to such a degree that they easily could perceived and grasped by the human mind this was the indispensable condition for the control of th process.

1s never since the first advent of production of commodities there has been such a fundamental revolutionmust necessarily be accompanied by an e2ually fundamental spiritual revolution. This economic revolutis the conclusion of the long period of class antagonisms and of production of commodities it carries witthe end of the dualist and supernatural thoughts arising from this source. The mystery of social proces passes away with this period, and the spiritual expression of these mysteries must necessarily disappear w

it. The slow development of human thought from ignorance to an ever increased understanding thereby eits first chapter. This signifies the completion and conclusion of philosophy, which is e2uivalent to saythat philosophy as such passes out of existence, while its place is taken by the science of the human mind part of natural science.

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1 new system of production sheds its light into the minds of men already before it has fully materiali%The same science which teaches us to understand and thereby to control the social forces, also unfetters mind from the bewitching effects of those forces. It enables him even now already to emancipate himsfrom traditional superstitions and ideas which were formerly the expression of things unknown. e maanticipate with our mind the coming time. 1nd thus the ideas which will then dominate are already even ngrowing within us in a rudimentary form corresponding to the present actual economic development. By means we are even now enabled to overcome the capitalist philosophy in thought and to soberly and cleagrasp the matter-dependent nature of our spirit.

The completion and the end of philosophy need not wait for the reali%ation of socialist production. The understanding does not fall from heaven like a meteor. It develops with the social-economic developmefirst imperfectly and imperceptibly, in a few thinkers who most strongly feel the breath of the approachitime. ith the growth of the science of sociology and with that of its practical application, the socialist labomovement, the new understanding simultaneously spreads and gains ground step by step, waging a relentl battle against the traditional ideas to which the ruling classes are clinging. This struggle is the mencompanion of the social class struggle.

The methods of the new natural science had already been practiced for a few centuries before the new thewas formulated. It first found vent in the expression of surprise at the great confidence with which massumed to predict certain phenomena and to point out their connections. #ur experience is limited to a fsuccessive observations of the regularity or coincidence of events. But we attribute to natural laws, in whare expressed causal relations of phenomena, a general and necessary applicability which far exceeds oexperience. The English thinker 5ume was the first who clearly expressed and formulated the 2uestionsince called the problem of causality ( why men always act in this manner. But as he believed the reason fsuch action should be sought in the nature of experience alone, experience being the only source knowledge, and as he did not further investigate the special and distinct part played by the nature of thuman mind in this experiential connection, he could not find any satisfactory answer.

8ant, who made the first important step toward the solution of this 2uestion, had been trained in the schoof rationalism which then dominated in Germany and which represented an adaptation of mediaevscholasticism to the re2uirements of increased knowledge. /tarting from the thesis that things which alogical in the mind must be real in nature, the rationalists formulated by mere deduction general truths abgod, infinity and immortality. "nder the influence of 5ume, 8ant became the critic of rationalism and thuthe reformer of philosophy.

The 2uestion how it is that we have knowledge of generally applicable laws in which we have impliconfidence ( such as mathematical theses, or the maxim that every change has a cause ( was answered b8ant in this way4 Experience and science are as much conditioned on properties inherent in the organi%aof our mind as on the impressions of the outer world. The former properties must necessarily be containedall experience and science. Therefore everything dependent on this common mental part of science must perfectly certain and independent of special sense impressions. $ommon to all experience, and inseparab

from it, are the pure sense-conceptions *reine Anshauungsformen +, such as space and time, while the manyexperiences, in order to succeed in forming understanding and science, must be connected by the pure miconceptions *reine Verstandesbegriffe +, the so-called categories among the latter also belongs causality.

'ow 8ant explains the necessity and general applicability of the pure sense and mind conceptions by thfact that they arise from the organi%ation of our mind. 1ccordingly, the world appears to the senses asuccession of phenomena in time and space. #ur reason transforms these phenomena into things which awelded into one aggregate nature by laws of cause and effect. #n the things as they really are in themselvin the opinion of 8ant, these pure conceptions cannot be applied. e know nothing of them and can neithe perceive nor reconstruct them by reason, because &in themselves) they are wholly beyond reason aknowledge.

The result of this investigation, which was the first valuable contribution to a scientific theory understanding and forms, from our standpoint, the most important part of 8ant6s philosophy, served hmainly as a means of answering the following 2uestions4 hat is the value of knowledge which exceed

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experience: $an we, by mere deduction through concepts which go beyond experience, arrive at truths: 5ianswer was4 'o, and it was a crushing blow to rationalism. e cannot exceed the boundaries of experienceBy experience alone can we arrive at science. 1ll supposed knowledge about the unlimited and infinitabout concepts of pure reason, called Ideas by 8ant *as the soul, the world, and God+ is nothing but illusioThe contradictions in which the human mind becomes involved whenever it applies the categories outsideexperience to such sub ects, are manifested in the fruitless strife between the philosophical system!etaphysics as a science is impossible.

This did not give the deathblow to rationalism alone, but also to bourgeois materialism which reigned am

the 3rench radical thinkers. 8ant6s researches refuted the negative as well as the positive assertions anent supernatural and infinite. This cleared the field for faith, for intuitive conviction. God, freedom aimmortality are concepts the truth of which cannot be proved by reason, like the natural truths derived frexperience. But nevertheless their reality is no less certain, only it is of a different nature, being sub ectiand, therefore, necessarily a matter of personal conviction. The freedom of the will, for instance, is noknowledge gained by experience, because experience never teaches us anything but lack of freedom adependence on the laws of nature. But nevertheless freedom of will is a necessary conviction of every owho feels it in the categorical imperative4 Thou shalt; of every one possessed by a sense of duty and of knowledge that he can act accordingly therefore freedom of will is unconditionally certain and re2uires proof of experience. 1nd from this premise there follows in same way the assurance of the immortality the soul and of the existence of God. It gives the same kind of uncertainty by the criti2ue of pure reason.the same time freedom of will determines the form of the theory of understanding. In the entire world phenomena there was no room for freedom, for these phenomena follow strict rules of causality, demanded by the organi%ation of our mind. Therefore it was necessary to make room for freedom of wsomewhere else, and so &things in themselves,) hitherto a phrase without value and meaning, assumehigher importance. They were not bound to space, time or categories, they were free they formed so to sasecond world, the world ofnoumena , which stood behind the world of phenomena and which solved thecontradiction between the lawful dependence of things in nature and between the personal convictionfreedom of will.

These opinions and reasonings were fully in accord with the conditions of science and the economdevelopment of 8ant6s time. The field of nature was left entirely to the inductive method of science wh based itself on strictly materialist experience and observation, classifying things systematically in thcausal order and excluding all supernatural interference. But while faith was banished from the natusciences forever, it could not be dispensed with. The ignorance as to the origin of the human will left rofor a supernatural ethic. The attempts of the materialists to exclude the supernatural also from this fiefailed. The time had not come as yet for a materialist and natural ethics, for science was not yet abledemonstrate as an indisputable truth, founded on experience, in what manner ethical codes and moral idin general had a material origin.

This state of things shows that the 8antian philosophy is the purest expression of bourgeois thought, and tis still more emphasi%ed by the fact that freedom is the center of his system and controls it. <ising capita

re2uired freedom for the producers of commodities in order to expand its productive forces, it re2uirfreedom of competition and freedom of unlimited exploitation. The producers of commodities should be ffrom all fetters and restrictions, and unhampered by any coercion, in order that they could go, under the sdirection of their own intelligence, into free competition with their fellow citi%ens. 3or this reason, freed became the slogan of the young bourgeoisie aspiring to political power, and 8ant6s doctrine of the free wthe basis of his ethics, was the echo of the approaching 3rench <evolution. But freedom was not absolutewas to be dependent on the moral law. It was not to be used in the 2uest for happiness, but in accord with moral law, in the service of duty. If the bourgeois society was to exist, the private interest of the individumust not be paramount, the welfare of the entire class had to be superior to that of the individual, and commandments of this class had to be recogni%ed as moral laws taking precedence over the 2uest happiness. But for this very reason, these moral laws could never be fully obeyed, and every one fou

himself compelled to violate them in his own interest. 5ence the moral law existed only as a code whicould never be fulfilled. 1nd so it stood outside of experience.

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In 8ant6s ethics the internal antagonism of bourgeois society is reflected, that antagonism which is tcompelling force of the ever increasing economic development. The foundation of this antagonism is antagonism, already mentioned, between the individual and social character of production that gives riseomnipotent, but unconceived social forces ruling the destiny of man. In capitalistic production it is sintensified by the antithesis of the wealthy ruling class and the poor producing class that is continuouaugmented by those who are expropriated by competition. This antagonism gave rise to the contradicti between the aims of men and the results achieved, between the desire of happiness and the misery of great mass. It is the basis of the contradiction between virtue and vice, between freedom and independen between faith and science, between phenomenon and &thing itself.) It is at the bottom of all contradicti

and of the entire pronounced dualism of the 8antian philosophy. These contradictions are to blame for tdownfall of the system, and the work of disintegration was unavoidable from the moment that tcontradictions of the bourgeois production became apparent, that is to say immediately after the politivictory of the bourgeoisie. The system of 8ant could, however, not be overcome, unless the material origof morality could be uncovered. Then these contradictions could be understood and solved by showing tthey were relative and not absolute as they appeared. 1nd not until then could a materialist ethics, a scienof morality, drive faith from its last retreat. This was at last accomplished by the discovery of social clstruggles and of the nature of capitalist production, by the pioneer work of 8arl !arx.

The practice of developed capitalism about the middle of the 0>th century directly challenged proletarthinkers to criticise 8ant6s doctrine of practical reason. Bourgeois ethics and freedom manifested themselin the form of freedom of exploitation in the interest of the bourgeoisie, as slavery for the working class. Tmaintenance of human dignity appeared in reality as the brutali%ation and degradation of the proletariand the state founded on ustice proved to be nothing but the class state of the bourgeoisie. 1nd so it wseen that 8ant6s sublime ethics, instead of being the basis in all eternity of human activity in general, wmerely the expression of the narrow class interests of the bourgeoisie. This proletarian criticism was the fmaterial for a general theory, and once it had been stated, its correctness was demonstrated more and mo by the study of previous historical events, and these events were thereby shown in their proper light. It wthen understood by this theory that the social classes, distinguished by their position in the process production, had different and antagonistic economic interests, and that each class did necessarily regardown interest as good and sacred. These general class interests were not recogni%ed in their true characterappeared to men in the guise of superior moral motives in this form they crowded the special individuinterests into the background, and since the class interests were generally felt, all the members of the saclass recogni%ed them. !oreover, a ruling class could temporarily compel a defeated or suppressed classrecogni%e the class interests of the rulers as a moral law, so long as the inevitability of the mode production in which that class ruled was acknowledged. #wing to the fact that the nature and significancethe productive process was not understood, the origin of human motives could not be discovered. They wnot traced back to experience, but simply felt directly and intuitively. 1nd conse2uently they were thought be of a supernatural origin and eternal duration.

'ot only the moral codes, but also other products of the human mind, such as religion, science, arts philosophy, were then understood to be intimately connected with the actual material conditions of socieThe human mind is influenced in all its products by the entire world outside of it. 1nd thus the mind is seto be a part of nature, and the science of the mind becomes a natural science. The impressions of the ouworld determine the experience of man, his wants determine his will, and his general wants his moral wThe world around him determines man6s wants and impressions, but these, on the other hand, determinewill and activity by which he changes the world this will-directed activity appears in the process of soc production. In this manner man by his work is a part, a link in the great chain of natural and socdevelopment.

This conception overturns the foundations of philosophy. /ince the human mind is seen now to be a part nature and interacts with the rest of the world according to laws which are more or less known, it is clasamong 8ant6s phenomena. There is no longer any need of talking aboutnoumena . Thus they do no longer

exist for us. ?hilosophy then reduces itself to the theory of experience, to the science of the human mindis at this point that the beginning made by 8ant had to be farther developed. 8ant had always separated mifrom nature very sharply. But the understanding that this separation should only be made temporarily for purpose of better investigation, and that there is no absolute difference between matter and mind made

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possible to advance the science of thought processes. 5owever, this could be accomplished only by a thinkwho had fully digested the teachings of socialism. This problem was solved by Aoseph iet%gen in his won The Nature of Human Brain Work , the first edition of which appeared in 0CD>, and by this work he wofor himself the name of philosopher of the proletariat. This problem could be solved only by the help of dialectic method. Therefore, the idealist philosophical system from 8ant to 5egel which consist chiefly the development of the dialectic method, must be regarded as the indispensable pioneers and precursorsiet%gen6s proletarian philosophy.

The philosophy of 8ant necessarily broke down on account of his dualism. It had shown that there is safe

only in finite and material experience, and that the mind becomes involved in contradictions wheneveventures beyond that line. The mind6s reason calls for absolute truth which cannot be gotten. 5ence the mis groping in the dark, but it cannot show the way out. hat is called with 8ant dialectics is in realityresignation. True, the mind finds knowledge about things outside of experience by some other way, vi%.means of its moral consciousness, but this intuitive knowledge in the form of faith remains sharply separafrom scientific understanding. It was the task of philosophical development immediately after 8ant, to away with this sharp separation, this unreconciled contradiction. This development ended with 5egel result was the understanding that contradiction is the true nature of everything. But this contradiction can be left to stand undisturbed, it must be solved and still retained in a higher form, and thus be reconcilTherefore the world of phenomena cannot be understood as being at rest. It can be understood only as a thin motion, as activity, as a continuous change. 1ction is always the reconciliation of contradiction in somhigher form, and contradiction appears in this way as the lever of progressive development. That whiaccomplishes this dialectic self-development does not appear in the idealistic systems as the material woitself, but as the spiritual, as the idea. In 5egel6s philosophy, this conception assumes the form ofcomprehensive system outlining the self-development of the 1bsolute which is spiritual and is identical wGod. The development of this 1bsolute takes place in three stages in its primitive pure spiritual formdevelops out of its undifferentiated being the conceptions of logic then it expresses itself in another, external form, opposite to self, as 'ature. In nature all forms develop by way of contradictions which areliminated by the development of some higher form. 3inally the 1bsolute awakens to consciousness nature in the form of the human mind and reaches thus its third stage, at which the opposite elements, maand spirit, are reconciled into a unity. The human mind evolves in the same way to ever higher stages, untarrives, at the end of its development by understanding itself, that is to say, by knowing intuitively t1bsolute. This is what happens unconsciously in religion. <eligion, which in the form of faith must satisfied with a modest corner in the system of 8ant, appears in the system of 5egel very proudly as a highsort of understanding superior to all other knowledge, as an intuitive knowledge of absolute truth *God+ philosophy this is done consciously. 1nd the historical development which finds its conclusion and climin the 5egelian philosophy corresponds to the logical development of the human mind.

Thus 5egel unites all sciences and all parts of the world into one masterly system in which the revolutionadialectics, the theory of evolution, that considers all finite things as perishable and transitory, is giveconservative conclusion by putting an end to all further development when the absolute truth is reached. the knowledge of that period was assigned to its place somewhere in this system, on one of the steps of tdialectic development. !any of the conceptions of the natural sciences of that day, which later on werfound to be erroneous, are there presented as necessary truths resting on deduction, not on experience. Tcould give the impression that the 5egelian philosophy made empirical research superfluous as a source concrete truths. This appearance is to blame for the slight recognition of 5egel among naturalists in natusciences, this philosophy therefore has won much less importance than it deserved and than it might hawon, if its actual significance, which consists in the harmonious connection between widely separated eveand sciences, had been better understood under its deceptive guise.

#n the abstract sciences the influence of 5egel was greater, and here he held an exceptionally prominen position in the scientific world of that time. #n one hand, his conception of history as a progressievolution in which every imperfect previous condition is regarded as a necessary phase and preparation

subse2uent conditions and thus appears natural and reasonable, was a great gain for science. #n the othhand, his statements on the philosophy of law and religion met the re2uirements and conceptions of his timIn his philosophy of law, the human mind is taken in that stage in which it steps into reality, having as principal characteristic a free will. It is first considered as a single individual which finds its freed

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incorporated in its property. This personality enters into relations with others like it. Its freedom of wilthereby expressed in moral laws. By combining all individuals into one aggregate whole, their contradictrelations are merged into the social units, vi%., the family, the bourgeois society *bürgerliche Gesellschaft +and the state. There the moral rules are carried from the inner to the outer reality. 1s the expressions ofsuperior, common and more general will, they stand forth in the generally accepted moral codes, in tnatural laws of bourgeois society and in the authoritative laws of the state. In the state, the highest formwhich is the monarchy, the mind finds itself at its highest stage of ob ective reali%ation as the idea ofstate.

The reactionary character of 5egelian philosophy is not merely a superficial appearance that rests on tglorification of state and royalty, thanks to which this philosophy was raised to the position of ?russian st philosophy after the restoration. It was in its very essence a product of reaction which in those darepresented the only possible advance after the revolution. This reaction was the first practical criti2ue bourgeois society. 1fter this society had been firmly established, the relative amenities of the old timappeared in a better light, because the shortcomings of the new society made themselves soon felt. T bourgeoisie had recoiled before the conse2uences of its revolution, when it recogni%ed that the proletawas its barrier. It arrested the revolution as soon as its bourgeois aims had been accomplished, and it wwilling to acknowledge again the mastery of the feudal state and monarchy, provided they would protecand serve its interests. The feudal powers that previously had been overcome by the weight of their own sand by the unconditional superiority of the new social order, again lifted their heads when the new orderits turn gave cause for well founded criticisms. But they could not keep the revolution in check, unless threcogni%ed it in a limited degree. They could once more rule over the bourgeoisie, provided tcompromised with it so far as it was inevitable. They could no longer prevail against capitalism, but thcould govern for it. Thus, by their rule, the imperfectness of capitalism was revealed.

The theory of restoration, therefore, had to consist first of all of a thorough criti2ue of the revolution bourgeois philosophy. But this philosophy could not be thrown aside entirely. /o far as a criti2ue of the oorder was concerned, the truth of bourgeois philosophy had to be admitted. #n the other hand, the shadistinction it made between the falsity of the old and the truth of the new order was found to be beside mark. /o the correctness of the bourgeois philosophy itself proved to be relative and limited, like that ofherald of some higher truth which in turn would acknowledge that which was temporarily and partially tin its van2uished precursor. In this way the contradictions become moments in the evolution of absolutruth, in this way, furthermore, the dialectics became the main feature and method of post-8antia philosophy and in this way, finally, the theorists of the reaction were the men who steered philosophy ovnew courses and who thereby became the harbingers of socialism. /cepticism and a criti2ue of all traditionthings, yet a careful protection of endangered faith, had characteri%ed the tendencies of bourgeois thouduring its revolutionary period. In the reactionary stage, the bourgeois implicitly accepted the beliefabsolute truth and cultivated a self-righteous faith. The practice of !etternich and of the 5oly 1lliancecorresponded to the theory of 5egelian philosophy.

The practice of the ?russian police state, which embodied the shortcomings of capitalism without

advantages and thus represented a higher degree of reaction, destroyed the 5egelian philosophy, as soon the practices of maturing capitalism began to rebel against the fetters by which reaction endeavoured to bit. 3euerbach returned in his criti2ue of religion from the fantastical heights of abstraction to physical m!arx demonstrated that the reality of bourgeois society expresses itself in its class antagonisms which heraits imperfectness and approaching downfall, and he discovered that the actual historical development reson the development of the process of material production. The absolute spirit that was supposed to embodied in the constitution of the despotic state before the !arch revolution now revealed itself as thnarrow bourgeois spirit which regards bourgeois society as the final aim of all historical development. T5egelian statement that all finite things carry within themselves the germ of their own dissolution camhome to his own philosophy, as soon as its finiteness and limitations had been grasped. Its conservative fowas abandoned, but its revolutionary content, the dialectics, was preserved. The 5egelian philosophy w

finally superseded by dialectic materialism which declares that absolute truth is reali%ed only in the inf progress of society and of scientific understanding.



This does not imply a wholesale re ection of 5egelian philosophy. It merely means that the relative validof that philosophy has been recogni%ed. The vicissitudes of the absolute spirit in the course of its sdevelopment are but a fantastical description of the process which the real human mind experiences inac2uaintance with the world and its active participation in life. Instead of the evolution of the absolute idthe dialectics henceforth becomes the sole correct method of thought to be employed by the real human min the study of the actual world and for the purpose of understanding social development. The great alasting importance of 5egel6s philosophy, even for our own time, is that it is an excellent theory of thuman mind and its working methods, provided we strip off its transcendental character, and that it excels the first laborious contributions of 8ant to the theory of human understanding.

But this 2uality of the 5egelian philosophy could not be appreciated, until iet%gen had created the basis fa dialectic and materialistic theory of understanding. The indispensable character of dialectic thought, whis illustrated by the monumental works of !arx and Engels, has been first demonstrated in a perfectlconvincing manner by iet%gen6s critical analysis of the human force of thinking. It was only by meansthis method of thought ( of which he was according to Engels6 testimony an independent discoverer ( thhe could succeed in completing the theory of understanding and bringing it to a close for the time being.

If we refer to the ideas laid down by iet%gen in this work as &his philosophy,) we say too much, becausdoes not assume to be a new system of philosophy. Fet, on the other hand, we should not say enoug because it would mean that his work is as passing as the systems before it. It is the merit of iet%gen to haraised philosophy to the position of a natural science, the same as !arx did with history. The human facultof thought is thereby stripped of its fantastic garb. It is regarded as a part of nature, and by means experience a progressive understanding of its concrete and ever changing historical nature must be gainiet%gen6s work refers to itself as a finite and temporary reali%ation of this aim, ust as every new theornatural science is a finite and temporary reali%ation of its aims. This reali%ation must be further imprand perfected by successive investigations. This is the method of natural science philosophical systems,the contrary, pretended to give absolute truth, that could not be improved upon. iet%gen6s workfundamentally different from these former philosophies, and more than they, because it wishes to be less presents itself as the positive outcome of philosophy toward which all great thinkers have contributed, s by the sober eyes of a socialist and analy%ed, recounted and further developed by him. 1t the same timeattributes to previous systems the same character of partial truths and shows that they were not entiruseless speculations, but ascending stages of understanding naturally related, which contain ever more trand ever less error. 5egel had likewise entertained this broader view, but with him this development camea self-contradictory end in his own system. iet%gen also calls his own conception the highest then existiand its distinctive step in the evolution is that it for the first time adopts and professes this natural ascientific view, instead of the supernatural point of view of the former systems. The new understanding tthe human mind is a common and natural thing is a decisive step in the progressive investigation of mind, and this step places iet%gen at the head of this evolution. 1nd it is a step which cannot be retrace because it signifies a sober awakening after centuries of vain imaginings. /ince this system does not preteto be absolute truth, but rather a finite and temporal one, it cannot fall as its predecessors did. It represenscientific continuation of former philosophies, ust as astronomy is the continuation of astrology and of ?ythagorean fantasies, and chemistry the continuation of alchemy. It takes the place that formerly was h by its unscientific predecessors and has this in common with them, apart from its essential theory understanding, that it is the basis of a new world-philosophy, of a methodical conception of the universe.

This modern world-philosophy *Weltanschauung +, being a socialist or proletarian one, takes issue with the bourgeois conceptions it was first conceived as a new view of the world, entirely opposite to the ruli bourgeois conceptions, by !arx and Engels, who developed its sociological and historical contents it philosophical basis is here developed by iet%gen its real character is indicated by the terms dialectic amaterialist. By its core, historical materialism, it gains a wholly new theory of social evolution that formschief content. This theory was for the first time sketched in its main outlines in the $ommunist !anifestand later on fully developed in a number of other works and thoroughly vindicated by innumerable facts

gives us the scientific assurance that the misery and imperfectness of present society, which bourgeo philosophy regards as inevitable and natural, is but a transitory condition, and that man will withmeasurable time emancipate himself from the slavery of his material wants by the regulation of soc production. By this certainty socialism is put on an eminence so far above all bourgeois conceptions t

C



these appear barbarous in comparison with it. 1nd what is more significant, our world-philosophy may usclaim to have for the first time thrown the light of an indisputable science on society and man combinwith the maturest products of natural sciences it forms a complete science of the world, making superstitions superfluous, and thus involving the theoretical emancipation, that is to say the emancipationthe mind. The science treating of the human mind forms the essence and foundation of this theory of sociand man, not only because it gives us the same as the natural sciences a scientific or experience-provtheory of the function of human thinking, but also, because this theory of cognition can alone assure us tsuch sciences are able to furnish us an ade2uate picture of the world, and that anything outside of themmere fantasy. 3or this reason we owe to iet%gen6s theory of cognition the firm foundation of our wor

philosophy.Its character is primarily materialistic. In contradistinction to the idealist systems of the most flourishtime of German philosophy which considered the !ind as the basis of all existence, it starts from concrematerialist being. 'ot that it regards mere physical matter as its basis it is rather opposed to the crud bourgeois materialism, and matter to it means everything which exists and furnishes material for thougincluding thoughts and imaginations. Its foundation is the unity of all concrete being. Thus it assigns to human mind an e2ual place among the other parts of the universe it shows that the mind is as closeconnected with all the other parts of the universe as those parts are among themselves that is to say, tmind exists only as a part if the entire universe so that its content is only the effect of the other parts. Thour philosophy forms the theoretical basis of historical materialism. hile the statement that &thconsciousness of man is determined by his social life) could hitherto at best be regarded as a generali%aof many historical facts and open to criticism, capable of improvement by later discoveries, the same asother scientific theories, henceforth the complete dependence of the mind on the rest of the world becomas impregnable and immutable a re2uirement of thought as causality. This signifies the thorough refutatof the belief in miracles. 1fter having been banished long ago from the field of natural science, miraclwere now banished from the domain of thought.

The enlightening effect of this proletarian philosophy consists furthermore in its opposition to superstition and its demonstration of the senselessness of all idol worship. /ocialist understandinaccomplished something which the bourgeois reformers could not do, because they were limited to natuscience in a narrow sense and could not solve the mystery of the mind for in explaining all the mentspiritual phenomena as natural phenomena our proletarian philosophy furnishes the means of a trenchcriti2ue of $hristian faith which consists in the belief in a supernatural spiritual being. In his dialecdiscussions of the mind and matter, finiteness and infinity, god and the world, iet%gen has thoroughclarified the confused mystery which surrounded these conceptions and has definitely refuted transcendental beliefs. 1nd this criti2ue is no less destructive for the bourgeois idols4 3reedom, <ight, /pir3orce, which are shown to be but fantastic images of abstract conceptions with a limited validity.

This could be accomplished in no other way than by simultaneously determining, in its capacity as a theof understanding, the relation of the world around us to the image which our mind forms of it. In this respiet%gen completed the work begun by 5ume and 8ant. 1s a theory of understanding, his conceptions ar

not only the philosophical basis of historical materialism, but also of all other sciences as well. The thoroucriti2ue directed by iet%gen against the works of prominent natural scientists, shows that he was well awof the importance of his own work. But, as might be expected, the voice of a socialist artisan did n penetrate to the lecture hall of the academics. It was not until much later that similar views appeared amothe natural scientists. 1nd now at last the most prominent theorists of natural science have adopted the vithat explaining signifies nothing else but simply and completely describing the processes of nature.

By this theory of understanding iet%gen has made it plainly perceptible why the dialectic method is indispensable auxiliary in the 2uest for an explanation of the nature of understanding. The mind is tfaculty of generali%ation. It forms out of concrete realities, which are a continuous and unbounded stream perpetual motion, abstract conceptions that are essentially rigid, bounded, stable, and unchangeable. T

gives rise to the contradictions that our conceptions must always adapt themselves to new realities withever fully succeeding the contradiction that they represent the living by what is dead, the infinite by whafinite, and that they are themselves finite though partaking of the infinite. This contradiction is understoand reconciled by the insight into the nature of the faculty of understanding, which is simultaneously

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faculty of combination and of distinction, which forms a limited part of the universe and yet encompaseverything, and it is furthermore solved by the resulting penetration of the nature of the world. The worlda unity of the infinitely numerous multitude of phenomena and comprises within itself all contradictiomakes them relative and e2uali%es them. ithin its circle there are no absolute opposites. The mind mereconstructs them, because it has not only the faculty of generali%ation but also of distinguishing. The pracsolution of all contradictions is the revolutionary practice of infinitely progressing science which moulds conceptions into new ones, re ects some, substitutes others in their place, improves, connects and dissecstill striving for an always greater unity and an always wider differentiation.

By means of this theory of understanding, dialectic materialism also furnishes the means for the solutionthe riddles of the world *Welträtsel +. 'ot that it solves all these riddles on the contrary, it says explicitly thatthis solution can be but the work of an ever advancing scientific research. But it solves them in so far adeprives them of the character of a mysterious enigma and transforms them into a practical problem, solution of which we are approaching by infinite progression. Bourgeois thought cannot solve the riddlesthe world. 1 few years after the first publication of iet%gen6s work, natural science in the person of Bois-<eymond acknowledged its incapacity in his &Ignorabimus)4 & e shall never know.) ?roletaria philosophy, in solving the riddle of the human mind, gives us the assurance that there are no insolubriddles before us.

In conclusion, iet%gen in this work indicates the principles of a new ethics. /tarting with the understandithat the origin of the ideas of good and bad is found in the needs of man, and designating as really moral twhich is generally useful, he logically discovers that the essence of modern morality rests in its clainterests. 1t the same time, a relative ustification is accorded to these temporary ethics, since they are tnecessary products of definite social re2uirements. The link between man and nature is formed by t process of social production carried on for the satisfaction of man6s material wants. /o long as this link wa fetter, it bound man by a misapprehended supernatural ethics. But once the process of social laborunderstood, regulated and controlled, then this fetter is dropped and the place of ethics is taken byreasonable understanding of the general wants.

The philosophical works of iet%gen do not seem to have, until now, exerted any perceptible influence the socialist movement. hile they may have found a silent admirer and contributed much toward a clearinup of their thoughts, yet the importance of his writings for the theory of our movement has not been reali%But this is not a matter for great surprise. In the first decade after their publication, even the economic woof !arx, the value of which was much more apparent, were little appreciated. The movement developespontaneously, and the !arxian theory could exert a useful and determining influence only by means of thclear foresight of a few leaders. 5ence it is no wonder that that the philosophy of the proletariat, whichless easily and directly applicable than our economics, did not receive much attention. The political matuof the German working class, which was farthest advanced in the theories of the international movement, not develop to the point of adopting !arxian theses as party principles, until after the abolition of the antsocialist laws. But even then they were for most of the spokesmen of the party rather concise formulationa few practical convictions than the outcome of a thorough scientific training and understanding. It was

doubt the great expansion of the party and of its activity which demanded all their powers for iorgani%ation and management, that led the younger intellectuals of the party to devote themselves practical work and to neglect theoretical studies. This neglect has bitterly avenged itself in the theoretischisms of the subse2uent years.

The decrepit condition of capitalism is now evidenced very plainly by the decay of the bourgeois parties,that the practical work of the socialist party is in itself sufficient to attract every one who has an independturn of mind and a capacity for deep feeling. But under the present circumstances, such a transition was accomplished by a proletarian world-philosophy ac2uired by painstaking study. Instead of such philosophy, we are confronted by a criti2ue of socialist science from the bourgeois standpoint. !arxism measured by the standard of the immature bourgeois theory of understanding, and the 'eokantians

unconscious of the positive outcome of philosophy of the past century, are trying to connect socialism w8antian ethics. /ome even speak of a reconciliation with $hristianity and a renunciation of materialism.

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This bourgeois method of thought, which, being anti-dialectic and anti-materialistic, is opposed to !arxismhas ac2uired some practical importance in the socialistic movement of countries where by lack economical development the class-consciousness of the workers is hindered by relics of the narrow-mindviews of the class of little producers ( as in 3rance and Italy under the name of reformism. In Germanwhere it could not obtain much practical importance it presented itself mostly as a theoretical strugagainst !arxism under the name of revisionism. It combines bourgeois philosophy and anti-capitalidisposition and takes the place formerly occupied by anarchism, and, like anarchism, it again representsmany respects the little bourgeois tendencies in the fight against capitalism. "nder these circumstances,closer study of iet%gen6s philosophical works becomes a necessity.

!arx has disclosed the nature of the social process of production, and its fundamental significance as a levof social development. But he has not fully explained, by what means the nature of the human mindinvolved in this material process. #wing to the great traditional influence exerted by bourgeois thought, tweak spot in !arxism is one of the main reasons for the incomplete and erroneous understanding of !arxiantheories. This shortcoming of !arxism is cured by iet%gen, who made the nature of the mind the speciaob ect of his investigations. 3or this reason, a thorough study of iet%gen6s philosophical writings is important and indispensable auxiliary for the understanding of the fundamental works of !arx and Engeliet%gen6s work demonstrates that the proletariat has a mighty weapon not only in proletarian econom

but also in proletarian philosophy. Het us learn to wield these weapons;

1nton ?annekoek Heyden, 5olland, ecember, 0> 7.


Socialism and Religion

I

If we try to find a key for the mutual relation of socialism and religion in the practical attitude of sociaspeakers and writers and religious spokesmen, we are easily led to believe, that the greatemisunderstanding, confusion, and internal contradictions reign in this regard. #n one side we see thnumerous laborers, when oining the ranks of the socialists, also throw their theological faith overboard aoften combat religion fiercely moreover, the teachings, which form the basis and strength of present-dsocialism, and which together form a entirely new world conception, stand irreconcilably opposedreligious faith. #n the other hand, we see faithful adherents of $hristianity, even priests, demandinsocialism precisely on account of their $hristian teachings and gathering under the banner of the labmovement. 1nd all agitators, and, what is still more significant, all programs of international social parties, unanimously declare religion to be a private affair of individuals, in which others have no businesinterfere. 'evertheless most priests and official representatives of religion combat the social democracy ve%ealously. They contend, that this movement aims merely to exterminate faith, and they harp unctuouupon all statements of our great champions !arx, Engels, iet%gen, in which they make critical remarkabout religion and defend their own materialism as a scientific doctrine. This, again, is opposed by comrain our own ranks, who, relying upon the declaration of neutrality toward religion in our party prograwould prefer to forbid the spreading of such statements, which hurt the feelings of religious people. They that the goal of our socialist movement is purely economic. In that respect they are right, and we shall fail to repeat this again and again in refutation of the lies of the preachers. e do not wish to inoculat people with a new faith, or an atheism, but we rather wish to bring about an economic transformationsociety. e desire to displace capitalist production by a socialist one. 1ny one may reali%e the practicabiliof such a collective production and its advantages over capitalist exploitation, for reasons which hanothing at all to do with religion. To this end we want to secure the political power for the working clasince it is indispensable as a means to this end. The necessity, or at least the desirability, of this transferthe political power can be understood by any laborer from his political experience, without any furthceremony, regardless of whether he is in matters of faith a ?rotestant, a $atholic, a Aew, or a 3reethink

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without any religion. #ur propaganda, then, is to be exclusively devoted to the work of elucidating teconomic advantages of socialism, and everything is to be eschewed, which might run counter to t pre udice of religious minds.

Evident as this conception may be, at least in its first part, yet it has its drawback, and there will be few, wwill agree with the ultimate conclusion. If it were correct, and if it were our aim to preach the beautiessocialism to all people, then we should naturally have to address ourselves to all classes of society, and fof all to the most educated. But the history of socialism has thoroughly disavowed the utopisentimentalists who wanted to do this. It was found, that the possessing classes did not care about the

advantages, and that the working class became more and more accessible to this understanding. This in itsindicates that something more has to be considered than merely to prove to people the practicability ofeconomic transformation of society. This transformation, and its instrument, the con2uest of political pow by the working class, can only be the outcome of a great class-struggle. But in order to carry this clastruggle successfully to its conclusion, it is necessary to organi%e the whole working class, to awaken political intelligence, to endow it with a thorough understanding of the internal forces which move world. It is furthermore necessary to be familiar with the strength and weakness of the opponents of tworking class, in order to make the best use of them, and in order to be able to meet all influencenergetically, which might weaken the internal and external strength of the organi%ed army of workers. #a clear grasp of all political and social phenomena can preserve the present leaders and members of tsocialist movement from missteps and mistakes, which might seriously in ure the propaganda among the sunenlightened masses. #nly profound knowledge will enable them to wrest ever new concessions from thenemies by their tactics and to benefit the working class.

If it is a fact, that the greatest amount of knowledge and understanding is re2uired in our ranks for t purpose of waging our fight well, and if the materialistic writings of our master minds tend to increase tintelligence, then it would involve great disadvantages to try to conceal and suppress these writings aconceptions for no other reason than that of avoiding a clash with the pre udices of people of limitknowledge.

#ur theory, the socialist science founded by !arx and Engels, was the first to give us clear glimpses of thedifferent social interrelations, which influence our movement. It will, therefore, be necessary for us, to tto this science for a satisfactory answer to the 2uestion of the relation between socialism and religion.

IIIf we wish to decide upon our attitude towards religion, it will first be necessary for our science to enlighus concerning the origin, the nature and the future of religion, and this enlightenment, like every scienmust be based upon experience and facts. 'ow we find in all countries with a strongly developed socialimovement, that the mass of class-conscious workers are without religion, that is, they do not believe in areligious doctrines and do not adhere to any of them. This seems at first sight all the more peculiar, as tmass has generally received but little schooling. #n the other hand, the &educated) classes, that is, t bourgeoisie, return more and more to faith, although there was at one time a strong anti-religious movemamong them. It seems, then, that belief or unbelief are not primarily a result of culture, of a certain degreeknowledge and enlightenment. The socialist workers are the first among whom irreligion appears as a socmass phenomenon. There must be some definite cause for this, and if this does not prove to be merelytransient fact, it must necessarily result in a greater and greater restriction of the field of religion socialism.

'ow the partisans of religion contend that this is not the case, for religion, according to them, is somethinmore and higher than a mere theological faith. The devotion to an ideal, the willingness to make sacrififor a great cause, the faith in the final victory of the Good all this is said to be also religion. In this sens

the socialist movement must even be called deeply religious. #f course, we are not going to split hairs abowords. e will merely say, therefore, that this meaning of the term religion is not the customary one. eknow very well that the socialist working people are filled with a great and high idealism, but with them

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the laws of nature. They bring destruction and misery in many forms, occasionally also fortune. They rhis fate capriciously, but he does not know and understand them.

The socialist proletariat stands before these forces with a different attitude. It is precisely its oppresscondition which deprives it of all interest in the preservation of capitalism and in the concealment of truth about this system. Thus the proletarian is enabled to study capitalism well, he is compelled to mahimself thoroughly familiar with his enemy. This is the reason why the scientific analysis of capitalism givin Capital , which is the life6s work of 8arl !arx, met reluctance and little understanding on the side of th bourgeois scientists, but was hailed with enthusiastic appreciation by the proletariat. The proletarians find

this work a revelation of the causes of their poverty. By its teaching they are enabled to understand the whhistory of the capitalist mode of production. They become aware of the reasons, why it must inevitablythe date of innumerable small bourgeois to fail, why hunger, war, and the suffering incidental to crises mnecessarily follow from this production. But they also see, in what manner capitalism must ruin itself byown laws. The working class understand, why by their insight and knowledge, they will be enabled displace capitalism by a consciously regulated social production, in which no mysterious forces can alonger bring destruction to mankind. The socialist portion of the working class, then, stands before the soforces ust as intelligently and understandingly as the educated bourgeois stands before the forces of natur

5ere, then, lies the cause of the irreligion of the modern class-conscious socialist proletariat. It is not t product of any intentional anti-religious propaganda. 'or is it the demand of any program. It comes rathgradually as a conse2uence of the deeper social insight, which the working people ac2uire by instructionthe field of political economy. The proletarian is not divorced from his faith by any materialist doctrines, by teaching which enables him to see clearly and rationally through the conditions of society, and to textent that he grasps the fact that social forces are natural effects of known causes, the old faith in miracdies out in him.

IIIIn order to understand the nature of religion thoroughly and only a thorough understanding will enable uto grasp its effects in present society we must come to a clear conception of the nature of spiritual thingin general. It is in this respect that the philosophical writings of Aosef iet%gen are so valuable, because tgive us clearness about the nature of the mind, of human thoughts, theories, doctrines, about ideas in gene#nly in this way do we fully reali%e our role in social life and in the present struggle. hatever is in thmind, is a reflection of the world outside of us. It has arisen out of this world. #ur conception of things trand real is derived from our experience in the word, our conception of things good and holy from our neeBut these mental reflections are not mere mirrored pictures, which reproduce the ob ect exactly as it is, whthe mind plays a purely passive role. 'o, the mind transforms everything, which it assimilates. #ut of thimpressions and feelings, by which the material world exerts an influence upon it, it makes menconceptions and assumptions. iet%gen has explained, that the difference between world and mind, origiand copy, is this, that the infinitely varied, concrete, ever changing flow of phenomena, of which realconsists, is turned by the mind into abstract, fixed, unchangeable, rigid conceptions. In these conceptions general, lasting, important, salient facts are detached from the multicolored picture of phenomena adesignated as the nature of things. In the same way we spirituali%e among the many things and institutnecessary for our welfare those by terms good, moral, holy, which are essential for satisfaction of olasting, vital and general re2uirements.

It is inherent in this nature of mental concepts and assumptions, that although they are derived from realyet they cannot immediately follow reality in its ceaseless alterations. hen a thing has once been gatherefrom experience as a mental copy, it becomes fixed in the mind and remains there enthroned as a recogni%truth, while new experiences are crowding upon the mind, to which this truth can no longer be reconciledfirst this truth resists, but gradually it has to submit to modification, until finally, when the new facts h

been accumulated in crushing masses, it is overthrown, or thoroughly understood and altered. This is history of all scientific theories. The place of the old is taken by a new theory, which then gives to the entstore of material facts an abstract and systematic summarisation.

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e are not so much interested here in the scientific theories, as in the general conceptions concerning thnature of the world and the position of man in it, which are incorporated in the philosophies and religioThese are not theories abstracted from the experiences and special observations of learned explorers. Tfacts on which they are built up are rather the experiences and feelings of whole nations or popular classThey form their general ideas and conceptions out of their experience concerning their own positionnature and in social environments, particularly concerning the re2uirements of their life. herever powerfuunknown forces press upon them as we have indicated before their conception of the world isdominated by supernatural forces, and other conceptions are oined to this fundamental thought. This was case, until now, in almost the whole of history, with only a few exceptions. In the religious doctrines, th

we find the general primitive conceptions concerning the nature of the world and of the relations of manthose unknown forces expressed in mystified forms. Everything re2uired for the maintenance or the intereof this class of people then assumes the form of a divine law. hen all hope of improvement by self-assertion is gone, as it was among the ruined <oman proletarians of the first centuries of $hristianity, thmeek suffering without resistance and inert waiting for supernatural salvation become the highest virtue. when an energetic preparation for war is re2uired to keep hold of a con2uered country and is accomplish by success, as it was among the Aews of the #ld Testament, then Aehovah helps his chosen people and thobey his laws who fight bravely. uring the great class struggle in Europe, called the <eformation, everone of the classes engaged in the fight regarded as God6s will whatever agreed with its class interests, each could conceive only of those things as being absolutely good and necessary which were vital for texistence of his class. 3or the followers of Huther, who loved to serve a prince, God6s law, or God6s trdemanded obedience to authority for the free bourgeoisie of the towns it demanded $alvinist e2uality individuals and selection by grace for the rebellious peasants and proletarians it demanded the commune2uality of all mankind. The struggling religions of that period may be compared in a general way with political parties of the present day. The members of the same class assembled in them, and in thcongresses *councils+ they formed in the shape of confessions of faith *we would say programs nowadtheir general conceptions of what they thought to be true, good, and necessary, and what was conse2uenGod6s truth and God6s will. In those days religion was something living, deeply and intimately connewith the whole life, and for this reason it happened continually that people changed their religion. hen change of religion is considered merely as a sort of violation of conventionality, as it is in our day, it isindication, that religion remains untouched by the great social movement of modern times, by the struggwhich stimulate men, and becomes a mere dead husk.

ith the development of society new classes and new class antagonisms have arisen. ithin the previouslyexisting communities of the faithful different classes, and antagonisms resulting from them, have grown 3rom the same stratum of small bourgeois, there have arisen great capitalists and proletarians. Tconfession of faith, which was formerly an expression of a living social conviction in a theological ga becomes a rigid formula. The community of faithful, formerly a community of interests, becomesfossili%ed thing. The mental conceptions persist by tradition as abstract theological forms, so long as theynot shaken by the strong gale of a new class struggle.

hen this new class struggle comes, it finds the old traditional antagonisms in its way, and then the figh between the traditional faith and the new reality begins. The present actual class interests are identical for working people of different religious confessions, while a deep class antagonism exists between laborers acapitalists of the same religious denomination. But the new reality re2uires time to overcome the otraditions. 3rom a time, in which a religious community represented a living community of interests, association of members of the same faith has been transmitted as a tradition, and a sacred tradition of thBecause this association is the mental image of a former reality, it persists as a spiritual fact and attemptsmaintain itself against the onrush of the new facts, which influence the mind of the laborer by his oexperience and by socialist propaganda. In the end the old group of conceptions and interests, which h become a dead husk, must yield to the new group based on present class interests.

<eligion is, therefore, only temporarily an obstacle for the advance of socialism. By virtue of the sacredn

attached to its doctrines and commands it can maintain itself longer and more tenaciously than oth bourgeois conceptions, and this tenaciousness has sometimes created the impression that the faithfulnessthe religious laborers would be a bar to practical and a refutation of theoretical socialism. But in the long even this ideology succumbs to the power of reality, as the $atholic laborers in Germany have proved.

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IVThe socialist teachings have inoculated the laboring class with an entirely new conception of the world. Treali%ation, that society is in a process of continual transformation, and that misery, poverty, exploitatand all the suffering of the present are only temporary and will soon yield to an order of society, to inaugurated by his class, in which peace, abundance, and fraternity shall reign, this reali%ation mrevolutioni%e the whole world conception of the laborer from the ground up. The theory of socialifurnishes the scientific foundation for this world conception. ?olitical economy teaches us to understand

internal laws, which move the capitalist process, while historical materialism lays bare the effects of economic revolution upon the conceptions and actions of people. 1nd this stands irreconcilably opposed,a materialistic doctrine, to religion. The socialist laborer who has recogni%ed his class interests and thereby been inspired with enthusiasm for the great aim of his class struggle, will then naturally desire to a clear understanding of the scientific foundations of his practical actions. To this end he is ac2uainted wthe materialistic doctrines of socialism. But it is not merely on account of the satisfaction derived fromthorough understanding, that is necessary for the socialist parties to promote a thorough understandingthese teachings among their members. It is necessary rather because such an understanding is indispensafor a vigorous pushing of our fight.

The actual state of affairs, then, is ust the opposite of what the theologians believe and proclaim. #

materialistic doctrines do not serve to deprive the laborers of their religion. They approach our doctrinonly after their religion is already gone, and they come to us for a more profound and uniform substantiatof their views. <eligion does not flee, because we propagate the doctrines of materialism, but because iundermined by the simple new gleanings on the field of economics, gathered by a careful observation of present world.

In declaring that religion is a private matter, we do not mean to say that it is immaterial to us, what geneconceptions our members hold. e prefer a thorough scientific understanding to an unscientific religioufaith. But we are convinced, that the new conditions will of themselves alter the religious conceptions, athat religious or anti-religious propaganda is unable to accomplish or prevent this.

5ere lies the crux of the difference between our conception and all former ones, between the presen proletarian movement and former class movements. #ur materialistic theory has uncovered for us the actufoundations of former historical struggles. It has demonstrated, that it was always a 2uestion of clastruggles and class interests whose goal was the transformation of economic conditions. !en were noclearly aware of the material reasons for their struggles. Their conceptions and aims were disguised bymystic cover of eternal truths and holy infinite aims. Their struggles were therefore carried on as strugg between ideas, as struggles for divine truth in fulfilment of God6s will. The struggles assumed the shapreligious wars. Hater, when religion no longer occupied first place, when the bourgeoisie, fancying that tcould grasp the whole world by reason, fought against the representatives of the church and nobility, ththis bourgeoisie imagined that they were waging a fight for the ultimate rational, for eternal ustice basupon reason. 1t that period the bourgeoisie championed materialism. But as yet they understood but littlethe real nature of the struggle, and carried it on in that uristic mystification, here and there as a strugagainst religion. They did not see, that this fight was nothing but a class struggle of the bourgeoisie agaithe feudal classes, and had for its aim only the installation of the capitalist mode of production.

In this respect our class struggle is different from all previous ones, for by virtue of our materialist scienwe recogni%e it to be exactly what it is, namely, a struggle for the economic transformation of soci1lthough we feel the high importance of this struggle, and often express it in our writings, that it shall brfreedom and brotherhood to mankind, reali%e the $hristian ideals of human love, and emancipate humthought from the oppression of superstition, nevertheless we do not represent this struggle as an ethical ofor a moral ideal, as a uristic one for absolute liberty and ustice, or as a spiritual one against superstitio

3or we know, that it is waged in reality for the revolution of the mode of production, for the re2uirements production, and all other things are but results flowing from this basis.

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This clear grasp of the real nature of our struggle is expressed in the declaration that religion is a privmatter. There is no contradiction between our materialist doctrine and this practical demand. They do represent two antagonistic points of view, which must be reconciled, in the way that &considerations practicability) must be reconciled with &soundness of theoretical principle.) 'o, ust as our so-calleconsiderations of practicability are everywhere results of a clearly understood theory, so it is here, as tabove statements show. The declaration that religion is a private matter is therefore an expression of tclearly scientific nature and aim of our struggle, a necessary conse2uence of our materialist theory of histoand only our materialism is able to give a scientific vindication of this demand.


The Labor Movement and Socialism

The relation of labor unions to the /ocialist movement is in many countries the sub ect of sharp differencof opinion, even of bitter strife. The situation is by no means everywhere the same. In England, for exampafter the break-up of the $hartist political movement in 0C=C the union movement increased greatly became a mighty organi%ation of the workingmen. But this great body of workers remained indifferen/ocialism, or even inimical to it, and the /ocialist party remained a small sect. In 1merica the labomovement developed according to the English pattern. In Germany and Belgium, on the contrary, tsituation is exactly reversed. There the /ocialist party grew mightily in the first place then the workers, whad learned how to conduct the fight on the political field, began to struggle for better conditions agaiindividual employers. #n this account the unions remained in these countries closely connected with t/ocialist party in Belgium, in fact, they are an organic part of the /ocialist movement. 5ere they arehowever, comparatively weak, and it is to be expected that as they increase in strength they will mathemselves more independent.

This division is imposed by the different ob ects of the political and labor union struggles. The /ocial party holds to a great and far-reaching purpose a purpose not immediately understood by everyone purpose which, in fact, is often misunderstood and therefore has to meet opposition, pre udice and hatwhich can be overcome only through extended educational propaganda. The ob ective of the unions, on other hand, is an immediate one, the securing of higher wages and shorter hours. This is instantly intelligito everyone does not demand deep convictions, but appeals rather to immediate interest. #n this accou2uite undeveloped workers must not be hindered from oining the unions because of their pre udice againworld-overturning force like /ocialism. 1s soon as the unions attempt to take in the great mass of thworkers they must be absolutely independent. #f course a friendly relation to the /ocialist party can still bmaintained.

This is the situation in Germany. The unions are independent organi%ations they are &neutral,) i. e., they

no 2uestions as to the religious or political opinions of their members. They remain, however, constantlyfriendly touch with the /ocialist party, even if now and then a little friction does occur. &?arty and union one,) is the oft 2uoted expression of a prominent union leader this is taken for granted because of the fathat the party members and the great body of union adherents are the same persons, the same workingmen

The need of having unions to improve the immediate situation of the workers and the advantages whgrow out of these need not be examined. But the goal of the working class is the complete exterminationcapitalism. 5ave the unions any part in this struggle for the complete liberation of the proletariat: Before th2uestion can be answered we must make a closer investigation into the general conditions of the strugglethe freedom of the workers.

hy does the great body of workingmen still permit itself to be ruled and exploited by the capitalists: hyare they not in a position to drive the minority of exploiters from power: Because they are an unorganiseundisciplined, individualistic and ignorant mass. The ma ority is impotent because it consists of a dividcrowd of individuals each one of whom wishes to act according to his own impulse, regard his own intere

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and in addition has no understanding of our social system. It lacks organi%ation and knowledge. Tminority, the ruling class, on the contrary, is strong because it possesses both organi%ation and knowled 'ot only does it have in its service scholars and men of learning it controls also a strong organi%ation, tstate administration. The army of officials, government underlings, law-givers, udges, representativ politicians and soldiers works like a gigantic machine which instantly suppresses any attack on the existorder a machine against which every individual is powerless and by which, if he opposes it, he is crushlike a troublesome insect a machine which, indeed, can easily shatter in a struggle even a great organi%aof workers. In this machine each works as a part of the whole4 in the working class each man acts for himor a small group. 'o wonder that the few, through their superior strength, rule the ma ority with ease.

But things are already changing. Economic development is always producing greater machines, mogigantic factories, more colossal capitali%ations. It gathers ever greater bodies of laborers about thmachines, forces them into organi%ed trade under the command of capital, robs them of their personal national distinctions and takes from them the possibility of personal success. But incidentally it suggeststhem the thought of organi%ation, of union of their forces, as the only means of improving their positionopposing the overpowering might of capital. Economic development thus brings forth the labor movemewhich begins the class-struggle against capital.

The ob ect of the labor movement is to increase the strength of the proletariat to the point at which it ccon2uer the organi%ed force of the bourgeoisie and thus establish its own supremacy. The power of working class rests, in the first place, upon its members and upon the important role which it plays in process of production. It constitutes an increasingly large ma ority of the population. ?roduction proceeupon a constantly increasing scale, and so is carried on more and more by wage-workers and the relationsits branches grows constantly more complex. "nder these circumstances workingmen find it possibthrough the strike to bring our whole social life to a standstill. In order that they may be in a position to this great power in the right way the workers must come to a consciousness of their situation and masterunderstanding of, and insight into, our social system. They must be class-conscious, i. e., clearly recognthe clash of interests between themselves and the capitalists. 1nd they must have sufficient intelligencefind the right methods of prosecuting the class-struggle and re ect the wrong ones. Enlightenment, tspreading of knowledge, is therefore one of the mightiest and most important weapons of the labmovement this is the immediate purpose of the /ocialist propaganda. In the third place, means must found to turn knowledge into deeds, to apply intelligence to action. To do this we need an organi%atiowhich the powers of the individual are oined in a single will and thereby fused into a common social forThe outer form of organi%ation is not the main thing, but the spirit which holds the organi%ation togeAust as the grains of sand are held together by a cement and thus the mass of them becomes a heavy stonemust the individuals be cemented together so that the organi%ation will not fly asunder at the first opposi but rather will con2uer all opposition like a mighty mass. This immaterial, spiritual cement is the discipwhich leads the individual to subordinate his own will to that of the whole and to place his entire strengtthe disposal of the community. It is not the giving up of one6s own views, but the recognition of the fact united action is necessary and that the minority cannot expect the ma ority to conform to its notions recognition which has become a powerful motive for action.

The first of the three factors which constitute the strength of the working class will be increasingdeveloped by economic evolution independently of our will. The further development of the other two is task of the labor movement. 1ll or working and striving is devoted to this purpose4 to improve tknowledge, the class-consciousness, the organi%ation, the discipline, of the working class. #nly when thare sufficiently developed can we con2uer the most powerful organi%ation of the ruling class, the state.

'ow what are the respective parts played in this development of working class power by the political parand the labor union: Through sermons, speeches and theoretic instruction we can never call into beinorgani%ation and discipline no, not even social intelligence and class-consciousness. The worth otheoretic instruction lies in the fact that it explains and illuminates practical experience, brings it to cl

consciousness but it cannot serve as a substitute for this experience. #nly through practice, practice in tstruggle, can the workers ac2uire that understanding of theoretic teaching and those intellectual and mo2ualities which will make their power great.

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It is generally known that in western Europe it has been the politico-parliamentary activity which has chiecontributed to the tremendous increase of the /ocialist movement and everywhere given strength to th/ocial emocratic parties. hat is the meaning of this: That the political struggle has given a mightyimpetus to the class-consciousness, the insight, the group-feeling, of the hitherto unconscious, unrelatworkers. The representatives of the workers took a stand in parliament against the government and t bourgeois parties, tore from their faces the masks of guardians of &the general welfare), revealed themexpressions of bourgeois interests inimical to the workers, and through suggestions for the improvementthe conditions of the laborers forced them to show their true characters by these means they enlightened people as to the class character of the state and the rulers. The criti2ue which they carried on in debate w

the mouthpieces of the bourgeoisie and the capitalist system penetrated through the papers to the uttermcorners of the land and roused to reflection those who otherwise remain untouched by public gatherings. Tcareful following of parliamentary struggles, of the speeches of their own representatives and of thopponents, developed to a high degree the political intelligence of the workers and increased thunderstanding of social phenomena. 5erein lies the significance of the political struggle for the increase the power of the working class the totally unconscious are shaken up and induced to think their clasconsciousness awakes and they oin the class organi%ations of the proletariat the already class-consciworkingmen become better and better instructed and their knowledge becomes more thorough.

Aust as important is the activity connected with labor union struggle. The effect of this conflict is to buildand strengthen the workingmen6s organi%ation. Through the efforts of the union to improve the conditiolabor increasing numbers of workers who before kept themselves at a distance are aroused and brought ithe organi%ation. The most effective recruiting force, it is generally known, is not the designed propagacarried on through meetings and tracts, but the influence of strikes and lock-outs. The chief significancethese struggles, however, lies in the development of discipline and mutual fidelity. This becomes toughsteel only when it has been tempered in the fire of conflict. The suppression of egotism, the surrender of individual to the whole, the sacrifice of the individual interest for the organi%ation, can be learned thoroughly ingrained only in struggle. Experience of the fact that all together suffer defeat if the individlacks the necessary feeling of solidarity, that on the other hand victory is the reward of unwavering coperation, beats into everyone this necessary discipline. It is thus the labor unions which weld the scatteindividualistic workers into powerful units, teach them to act unitedly as a body, and produce among ththe highest working class virtue, solidarity.

In addition the labor union struggle contributes to the knowledge of the workers. It is in this conflict tmost of them learn the 1B$ of /ocialism, the opposition of interests between workingmen and employer5ere they can get hold of this fundamental fact of capitalistic society, which appears much less clearly in t political fight. #n this account the unions have often been called the preparatory schools of /ocialism themight be better called elementary schools, for the real elementary principles that one learns in the labstruggle. #f course this elementary knowledge of the opposition of interests between employes anemployers is not ade2uate to an understanding of our social system one who knows nothing more will nonplussed and without resource when he confronts the more complex relations, the role of the other classof the office-holders, of the state, for example, and other political and ideological phenomena.

#n the other hand, the political struggle has an essential significance for the organi%ations of the workclass. The union organi%ations always have their limitations they include only members of a particular cand so develop with the strong solidarity of their fellow craftsmen their guild spirit, their isolation, yes, ofan unfriendly ealously of other crafts. This narrowness is swept away by the political struggle. In politclass stands against class. There the delegates of labor speak not as representatives of the carpenters or miners they do not even represent the wage-workers exclusively, but the whole body of those exploited capital. Their opponents are not representatives of definite groups of employers, but of the whole ownclass they fight in parliament against bank capital, colonial capital, land capital, ust as much as againstexploiters. Therefore the political conflict extends the view, the intelligence and also the sympathies beyothe narrow circle of the craft interests of the labor union. here the political party is strong all workers o

the most varied trades feel themselves brothers their solidarity is no longer limited by the boundariestheir crafts, and their labor organi%ations appear to them as parts, as branches, as battalions in a single glabor army. In Germany, where the political organi%ation preceded the labor union, the guild spirit wunable to develop itself so strongly as, e. g., in England.

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The relation between political party and union is often represented as though the political movement wer bring about the destruction of capitalism, and the union to effect the improvement of the laborer6s condiwithin the capitalist system as though the political party were naturally revolutionary and the uninaturally reformatory. This may be in harmony with the apparent practice in many lands but in 3rance, the contrary, the unions regard themselves as the revolutionary organi%ations and the political party bourgeois creation with merely temporary reformatory functions. In reality the truth is that both are at orevolutionary and reformatory4 that is to say, they both carry on the present struggle for direct improvemand both have great significance in relation to the revolutionary transformation of society.

In the class-struggle the conflict must always concern itself with immediate, practical ob ects. hat are th bones of contention in parliament: The introduction of /ocialism: #ne may agitate for a purpose lying far ithe future, but cannot carry on an immediate fight for it. The actual fight turns about definite legislati proposals about social reforms, laws for the protection of laborers, contraction or expansion of the rightslabor, laws in the interest of particular capitalist groups, or measures of taxation in regard to which there collision of class interests. Every article of a law becomes the crux of a struggle between the representativof labor and the bourgeoisie. labor gains only now and then a direct advantage, a favourable legal enactme but always an indirect one, the enlightenment of the masses as to the nature of society and the state.

The difference between this and the union struggle for direct improvement of the conditions of labor lies in the fact that in the political fight more general interests and considerations come into 2uestiTherefore the arguments brought to bear reach a higher level. 3rom momentary 2uestions the opponereach out to remote purposes eventually their deepest most general convictions, their world-views, cointo conflict. /ocialist speakers utili%e every particular case to make an attack on the whole capitalist systtheir opponents answer with attempts at criticism of /ocialist teaching. /o the ultimate ob ective of th proletarian struggle always appears behind the momentary clash, and we always emphasi%e the fact thatclash gains in significance from its relation to this ultimate ob ective. /o it comes about that apparently t political struggle is carried on in the interests of /ocialism, and the union struggle in the interests of refor1nd yet both are for reform, for the improvement of the condition and status of labor and against thedeterioration. Both of them effect, as we showed above, a steady increase in the power of the working cla pave the way, therefore, for the con2uest of political power by the proletariat.

In both there comes about in an analogous manner a limited conception of their function, in that all rem purposes and general interests are sacrificed to the achievement of an immediate reform. #n the politicfield this conception takes the form of a neglect of the class-struggle, a political alliance with the bourge parties in abloc , a strife for votes as a main ob ect this constitutes the tendency within the /ocialistmovement which is called reformist or revisionist. The belief that through it we can accomplish moreforms usually proves fallacious, and in addition the revolutionary result of political activity, tenlightenment and organi%ation of labor, usually fails of accomplishment. This tendency can prosper ounder underdeveloped conditions such as obtain among small capitalists or land-holders, conditions unwhich the opposition of classes is not sharply defined and even there not for any great length of time.

The reformist tendency is much more persistent among the unions. here on account of particulacircumstances the unions have been successful in improving the labor conditions there may easily developtheir ranks a self-satisfied, bigoted conservatism they give up the thought of a vigorous campaign agaicapitalism and surrender themselves to the stupor of the &community of interests between capital and labthey neglect further enlightenment, isolate their organi%ations like guilds, look with scorn on the miseraunorganised mass of sacrifices to capitalism, and become small bourgeois, lacking anything lirevolutionary feeling. The classical examples of this are furnished by the English and 1merican tradeunions. In such a labor movement, in distinction from a reformist political movement, the very name of /ocialist enlightenment is proscribed. "nder such circumstances a better view of things becomes effectivonly with great difficulty and as the result of the most painful lessons of experience. In most countrinaturally, the conservative, reformist tendencies are most powerful in the unions while the political party,

the contrary, represents more energetically the revolutionary standpoint. But the opposite is also possibhere the /ocialist party loses itself too deep in the 2uagmire of bourgeois parliamentary there awakes inthe workers a native, primitive class feeling, a disgust at the co2uetting with the representatives of t bourgeoisie. Then they repudiate the whole fight on the political field as a 2uarrel of ambitious politici

7



which can only compromise the class-struggle and they come to place their only trust in the natuorgani%ations of the working class, the unions. /o in 3rance, chiefly as a result of thebloc policy and!illerandism, there has arisen a revolutionary unionism which advocates the general strike as the onlweapon whereby labor can accomplish the overthrow of capitalism.

The goal of the labor movement, the con2uest of political power, indicates in itself that its attainment canaccomplished only by the working class organi%ed as a political party. <epeatedly has the idea be presented, especially by the revisionists, that this con2uest can be brought about in a simple, peacef parliamentary manner. In every election we poll an increased number of votes, a constantly increasi

number of voters is being converted to our views and when at last we have won the ma ority of the peopwe shall have universal, e2ual suffrage being taken for granted the ma ority in parliament will makelaws according to our principles. But this beautiful idyll goes to smash the moment we take into account restrictions upon suffrage which the bourgeois parties are in a position to put through so long as they are sin control of the ma ority. It goes without saying that the ruling class will not allow itself to be so easdiscarded. It will attempt to assert itself against us with all the weapons at its command its wealth, aabove all its actual control of the political administration, the bureaucracy, the army and the newspapegive it a tremendous power so long as it has a ma ority in the law-giving bodies it can by legal methodsaway with the popular rights which are dangerous to it. Experience has shown that in defense of privileges it is not inclined either in Europe and 1merica to respect recogni%ed rights. In the face of thfacts the workers will be forced to call into the field every power which they possess.

In this final struggle for the mastery which will not be a single battle, but a long war with many ups andowns of victory and defeat the unions will play a part not inferior to that of the /ocialist party. #r, to putit more clearly, the political and the union movement will come together in this conflict. The workers m present themselves as a single, strongly united class with a definite political purpose that is, as a politica party. They must at the same time come into action as a mass organi%ation, i. e., lead into the field tunions and make use of their union weapon, the strike, for political purposes they must act as a body agaithe power of the state. In the mass strike the two proletarian methods become one4 political understandand union discipline are here like the thinking head and the strong arm of an individual combatant.

The more the great body of workers take part in the war on capitalism, the more will labor union confli become social cataclysms, great political events and thus the unions will be forced to take part in t political struggle. In these great struggles the old methods of parliamentary and labor union diplomacy w be found inade2uate the cleverness of sharp leaders and versatile spokesmen will be overshadowed by t power of the masses themselves. In the persons of the leaders, who develop according to the particudemands of each form of action, the political and union movements are different in the persons wconstitute the masses behind the leaders they are identical. Thus where the mass of the workers themselvcome into action the dividing line between the two methods of struggle disappears they march upon tfield of battle to a single, undivided warfare against capitalism, armed with the class-consciousness, discipline, the intelligence and the power of action gained in all previous conflicts the union constitutes thorgani%ation /ocialism, their political intelligence.

Dr Anton Pannekoek, Berlin .


The e! Middle "lass

The middle class is the one which stands between the highest and the lowest strata of society. 1bove it is tclass of great capitalists below it the proletariat, the class of wage-workers. It constitutes the social growith medium incomes. 1ccordingly, it is not divided with e2ual sharpness from both of the other twclasses. 3rom the great capitalist the small bourgeois is distinguished only by a difference of degree he hasmaller amount of capital, a more modest business. Therefore the 2uestion as to who belongs to this sm

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bourgeois class is difficult to answer. Every capitalist who suffers from the competition of still greacapitalists denounces those above him and cries out for help on behalf of the middle class.

3rom the proletariat, on the contrary, the small bourgeois is divided by a difference in kind, in economfunction. Be his business and his income ever so small, he is independent. 5e lives by virtue of hownership of the means of production, like any other capitalist, and not from the sale of his labor power, la proletarian. 5e belongs to the class that undertakes enterprises, that must possess some capital in order carry them on often he employs laborers himself. 3rom the wage-working class he is, therefore, sharpdifferentiated.

In former times this class of small capitalists constituted the main body of the industrial population. /ocdevelopment, however, has gradually brought about its destruction. The motive power of this developmwas competition. In the struggle for existence the greatest capitalists, the ones financially and technica best fitted to survive, crowded out the poorer and more backward ones. This process has gone on to suchextent that at present industrial production is carried on almost exclusively on a large scale in industry sm production survives only in the form of repair work or special artistic activities. #f the members of tearlier middle class a small number have worked themselves up to the rank of great capitalists the grma ority have lost their independence and sunk down into the proletariat. 3or the present generation tindustrial middle class has only a historical existence.

The class that I referred to in my first paragraph is the commercial middle class. This social stratum wourselves have seen, and still see, decaying before our eyes. It is made up of small merchants, shopkeepeetc. #nly during the last decades have the great capitalists gone into the retail business only recently hathey begun to establish branch concerns and mail-order houses, thus either driving out the small concernsforcing them into a trust. If during recent times there has been great lamentation over the disappearancethe middle class we must keep in mind that it is only the commercial middle class that is in 2uestion. Tindustrial middle class long ago went down and the agrarian middle class became subordinate to capitaliwithout losing the forms of independence.

In this account of the decline of the middle class we have the theory of /ocialism in a nut-shell. The socdevelopment which resulted in this phenomenon made of /ocialism a possibility and a necessity. /o long athe great mass of the people were independent producers /ocialism could exist only as the utopia individual theori%ers or little groups of enthusiasts it could not be the practical program of a great clIndependent producers do not need /ocialism they do not even want to hear of it. They own their means production and these are to them the guarantee of a livelihood. Even the sad position into which they forced by competition with the great capitalists can hardly render them favourable to /ocialism. It makthem only the more eager to become great capitalists themselves. They may wish, occasionally, to limit freedom of competition perhaps under the name of /ocialism but they do not want to give up their ownindependence or freedom of competition. /o long, therefore, as there exists a strong middle class it acts a protecting wall for the capitalists against the attacks of the workers. If the workers demand the sociali%aof the means of production, they find in this middle class ust as bitter an opponent as in the capitali

themselves.The decay of the middle class signifies the concentration of capital and the growth of the proletariat. $apifaces, therefore, an ever-increasing army of opponents and is supported by a constantly decreasing numof defenders. 3or the proletariat /ocialism is a necessity it constitutes the only means of protecting labagainst robbery by a horde of useless parasites, the only bulwark against want and poverty. 1s the great maof the population comes more and more to consist of proletarians, /ocialism, in addition to being a necessicomes more and more to be a possibility for the bodyguard of private property grows constantly weaker a becomes powerless against the constantly mounting forces of the proletariat.

It goes without saying, therefore, that the bourgeoisie views with alarm the disappearance of the midd

class. The new development which inspires the proletariat with hope and confidence fills the ruling clwith fear for its future. The faster the proletariat, its enemy increases in numbers, the faster the owning cldecreases, the more certainly the bourgeoisie sees the approach of its doom. hat is to be done:

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1 ruling class cannot voluntarily give up its own predominance for this predominance appears to it the sfoundation of the world order. It must defend this predominance and this it can do only so long as it hhope and self-confidence. But actual conditions cannot give self-confidence to the capitalist class therefit creates for itself a hope that has no support in reality. If this class were ever to see clearly the principlessocial science, it would lose all faith in its own possibilities it would see itself as an aging despot wmillions of persecuted victims marching in upon him from all directions and shouting his crimes into ears. 3earfully he shuts himself in, closes his eyes to the reality and orders his hirelings to invent fablesdispel the awful truth. 1nd this is exactly the way of the bourgeoisie. In order not to see the truth, it happointed professors to soothe its troubled spirit with fables. ?retty fables they are, which glorify

overlordship, which da%%le its eyes with visions of an eternal life and scatter its doubts and dreams amany nightmares. $oncentration of capital: $apital is all the time being democratised through the increasindistribution of stocks and bonds. Growth of the proletariat: The proletariat is at the same time growing morderly, more tractable. ecay of the middle class: 'onsense a new middle class is rising to take the placeof the old.

It is this doctrine of the new middle class that I wish to discuss in some detail in the present paper. To thnew class belong, in the first place, the professors. Their function is to comfort the bourgeoisie with theoras to the future of society, and it is among them that this fable of the new middle class found its originGermany there were /chmoller, agner, !asargh and a host of others who devoted themselves to the laborof elaborating it. They explained that the /ocialist doctrine as to the disappearance of the middle class wassmall importance. Every table of statistics showed that medium incomes remained almost exactly numerous as in former times. In the places of the disappearing independent producers there were appeariother groups of the population. Industry on a large scale demanded an immense army of intermediatifunctionaries4 overseers, skilled workers, engineers, managers of departments, bosses, etc. They formecomplete hierarchy of officials they were the officers and subalterns of the industry army, an army in whthe great capitalists are the generals and the workingmen the common soldiers. !embers of the so-calle&free) vocations, physicians, lawyers, authors, etc., belonged also to this class. 1 new class, then, constanincreasing in numbers, was said to be taking the place formerly occupied by the old middle class.

This observation in itself is correct, though not at all new. 1ll that there is new about it is its exposition wa view to disproving the /ocialist theories of classes. It was expressed clearly, e. g., by /chmoller at aEvangelical /ocial $ongress held at Heipsic as far back as 0C> . The audience burst into oyful enthusiasat the good news, and declared in a resolution4 &The congress notes with pleasure the reassuring scientifically grounded conviction of the speaker that the economic development of modern times does necessarily lead to the destruction of a class so useful to the welfare of society as the middle class.) 1nanother professor declared4 &5e has filled us with optimism for the future. If it is not true that the midclass and the small bourgeoisie are disappearing, we shall not be forced to alter the fundamental principlescapitalist society.)

The fact that science is merely the servant of capitalism could not be more clearly expressed than in sustatements. hy is this declaration that the middle class is not decaying hailed as reassuring: hy does it

create content and optimism: Is it because through it the workers will attain better conditions, be leexploited: 'o. Aust the opposite. If this statement is true, the worker will be kept forever in slavery by permanent army of enemies what appears to prevent his liberation is pronounced reassuring and optimis 'ot the discovery of truth, but the reassurance of an increasingly superfluous class of parasites is the ob eof this science. 'o wonder that it comes into conflict with the truth. It fails, not only in its denial of /ocialiteaching, but in its reassurance of the capitalist class. The comfort that it gives is nothing more than sedeception.

The /ocialist doctrine as to the concentration of capital does not imply the disappearance of mediuincomes. It has nothing to do with relative incomes it deals, on the contrary, with social classes and theconomic functions. 3or our theory society consists, not of poor, well-to-do and rich, of those who ow

nothing, little, or much but rather of classes, each one of which plays a separate part in production.merely external, superficial classification according to incomes has always been a means whereby bourgewriters have confused actual social conditions and produced unclearness instead of clearness. The /ocialtheory restores clearness and scientific exactness by concentrating attention upon the natural divisions

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society. This method has made it possible to formulate the law of social development production on a lascale constantly replaces production on a small scale. /ocialists maintain, not that medium incomes, brather small, independent producers, tend more and more to disappear. This generali%ation the professornot attack everyone ac2uainted with social conditions, every ournalist, every government official, eve petty bourgeois, every capitalist knows that it is correct. In the very declaration that the middle class is berescued by a new, rising class it is specifically acknowledged that the former is disappearing.

But this new middle class has a character altogether different from that of the old one. That it stands betwcapitalists and laborers and subsists on a medium income constitutes its only resemblance to the sm

bourgeoisie of former times. But this was the least essential characteristic of the small bourgeois class. Inessential character, in its economic function, the new middle class differs absolutely from the old.

The members of the new middle class are not self-supporting, independent industrial units they are in service of others, those who possess the capital necessary to the undertaking of enterprises. Economicaconsidered, the old middle class consisted of capitalists, even if they were small capitalists the new consof proletarians, even if they are highly paid proletarians. The old middle class lived by virtue of possession of the means of production the new makes its livelihood through the sale of its labor power. Teconomic character of the latter class is not at all modified by the fact that this labor power is of a highdeveloped 2uality that, therefore, it receives comparatively high wages no more is it modified by the fthat this labor power is chiefly of an intellectual sort, that it depends more on the brain than on the musclIn modern industry the chemist and the engineer are dealt with as mere wage-workers their intellectu powers are worked to the limit of exhaustion ust like the physical powers of the common laborer.

ith the statement of this fact the professorial talk about the new middle class stands revealed in all itfoolishness it is a fable, a piece of self-deception. 1s a protection against the desire of the proletariat fexpropriation the new middle class can never take the place of the old. The independent small capitalistsformer times felt themselves interested in the maintenance of private property in the means of product because they were themselves owners of means of production. The new middle class has not the slightinterest in keeping for others a privilege in which they themselves have no part. To them it is all one whetthey stand in the service of an individual manufacturer, a stock company, or a public organi%ation, likecommunity or state. They no longer dream of sometime carrying on an independent business they know tthey must remain all their lives in the position of subordinates. The sociali%ation of the means of producwould not change their position except as it would improve it by liberating them from the caprice of tindividual capitalist.

It has often been remarked by bourgeois writers that the new middle class has a much more certain positithan the old one and, therefore, less ground for discontent. The fact that stock companies destroy the sm business men is a charge that cannot be allowed to count against its many advantages it is realinsignificant in view of the fact that the small business men, after being ruined, are given positions in service of the company, where, as a rule, their life is much freer from care than it was in the first plac*5emburg.+ /trange, then, that they struggled so long, sacrificed their wealth and exerted their strength to

utmost, to maintain themselves in their old positions while all the time such an alluring berth was invitthem; hat these apologists of the capitalist system carefully conceal is the great difference between presendependence and former independence. The middle class man of former times no doubt felt the pressurewant, of competition but the new middle class man must obey a strange master, who may at any momearbitrarily discharge him.

'ow it is certainly true that those who serve the modern capitalist as skilled technical workers or companofficials are not tortured by the cares which weighed down the spirit of the small bourgeois of former da#ften, also, their incomes are greater. But so far as the maintenance of the capitalist system is concernthey are worthless. 'ot personal discontent, but class interest, is the motive power of social revolution. Imany cases even the industrial wage-worker of today is in a better position than the independent sm

farmer. 'evertheless the farmers, by virtue of the possession of their little pieces of ground, have an interein the maintenance of the system of private ownership, while the wage-worker demands its destruction. Tsame is true of the middle class4 the oppressed, discontented small capitalists, despite the disadvantage

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their position, were props of capitalism and this the better situated, care-free modern trust employes cnever be.

This fact means nothing more than that the professorial phrases, intended to reassure the bourgeoisie wthe notion of this new middle class and so hide from them the tremendous transformation which has tak place, have turned out to be pure trickery, without even the remotest resemblance to science. The statemthat the new class occupies the same position in the class-struggle as did the small bourgeoisie of the phas proved to be a worthless deception. But as to the real position of this new class, its actual function in social organism, I have thus far hardly touched upon it [1].

The new intellectual middle class has one thing in common with the rest of the proletariat4 it consists of propertyless, of those who sell their labor power, and therefore has no interest in the maintenance capitalism. It has, moreover, in common with the workers, the fact that it is modern and progressive, ththrough the operation of the actual social forces it grows constantly stronger, more numerous, moimportant. It is, therefore, not a reactionary class, as was the old small bourgeoisie it does not yearn for good old pre-capitalistic days. It looks forward, not backward.

But this does not mean that the intellectuals are to be placed side by side with the wage-workers in everespect, that like the industrial proletariat they are predisposed to become recruits of /ocialism. To be suin the economic sense of the term, they are proletarians but they form a very special group of wage-workea group that is socially so sharply divided from the real proletarians that they form a special class witspecial position in the class-struggle.

In the first place, their higher pay is a matter of importance. They know nothing of actual poverty, of miseof hunger. Their needs may exceed their incomes and so bring about a discomfort that gives real meaningthe expression &gilded poverty) still immediate need does not compel them, as it does the real proletariato attack the capitalist system. Their position may rouse discontent, but that of the workers in unendurab3or them /ocialism has many advantages for the workers it is an absolute necessity.

In addition to this, it must be remembered that this body of intellectuals and highly-paid industrial emplodivides itself into a large number of widely varying strata. These strata are determined chiefly by differenin income and position. e begin at the top with heads of departments, superintendents, managers, etc., ango on down to bosses and office employes. 3rom these it is but a step to the highest paid workers. Thus,far as income and position are concerned, there is really a gradual descent from capitalist to proletarian. Thigher strata have a definitely capitalistic character the lower ones are more proletarian, but there is no shdividing line. #n account of these divisions the members of this new middle class lack the unity of spiwhich makes co-operation easy for the proletariat.

The state of affairs ust described hinders them in their struggle to improve their position. It is to thinterest, as it is to that of other workers, to sell their labor power at the highest possible price. orkingme bring this about through oining forces in unions as individuals they are defenceless against the capitali

but united they are strong. 'o doubt this upper class of employes could do more to coerce the capitalists they formed themselves into a great union. But this is infinitely more difficult for them than for workingmIn the first place they are divided into numberless grades and ranks, ranged one above the other they do nmeet as comrades, and so cannot develop the spirit of solidarity. Each individual does not make it a matter personal pride to improve the condition of his entire class the important thing is rather that he personastruggle up into the next higher rank. In order to do this it is first of all necessary not to call down on himthe disfavor of the master class by opposing it in an industrial struggle. Thus mutual envy of the upper alower ranks prevents co-operative action. 1 strong bond of solidarity cannot be developed. It results frothis condition that employes of the class in 2uestion do not co-operate in large bodies they make thefforts separately, or only a few together, and this makes cowards of them they do not feel in themselves power which the workingmen draw from consciousness of numbers. 1nd then, too, they have more to fe

from the displeasure of the masters a dismissal for them is a much more serious matter. The worker stanalways on the verge of starvation and so unemployment has few terrors for him. The high class employe,the contrary, has a comparatively agreeable life, and a new position is difficult to find.

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3or all these reasons this class of intellectuals and higher employes is prevented from instituting a figalong union lines for the improvement of their position. #nly in the lower ranks, where great numbers labunder the same conditions and the way to promotion is difficult, are there any signs of a union movementGermany two groups of employes of this class have lately made a beginning. #ne of these groups consistsforemen in coal mines. These men constitute a very high class of labor, for in addition to superintendiindustry they have oversight of arrangements designed to insure sanitary conditions and safety froaccidents. /pecial conditions have fairly forced them to organi%e. The millionaire operators, in their greed profits, have neglected safety devices to an extent that makes catastrophes inevitable. /omething had to done. Thus far the organi%ation is still weak and timid, but it is a beginning. The other group is made u

machinists and engineers. It has spread all over Germany, has become so important, in fact, as to be mad point of attack by the capitalists. 1 number of ruthless employers demanded that their men desert torgani%ation, and when they refused to comply discharged them. 3or the present the union has been abldo nothing for these victims except to support them but even in this it has taken up the cudgels against capitalist class.

3or the cause of /ocialism we can count on this new middle class even less than for the labor union strugg3or one thing, they are set over the workers as superintendents, overseers, bosses, etc. In these capacitthey are expected to speed up the workers, to get the utmost out of them. /o, representing the interest capital in relation to labor, they naturally assume a position a bitter enmity to the proletariat and findalmost impossible to stand shoulder to shoulder with them in the struggle for a single goal.

In addition, a set of ideas, particularly notions of themselves and their position, tends to ally them to capitalists. !ost of them come from bourgeois, or at least small capitalist, circles and bring with them all th pre udices which stand opposed to /ocialism. 1mong the workers such pre udices are uprooted by their neenvironment, but among these higher, intellectual employes they are actually strengthened. /mall producehad, for example, as the first article of their faith, the idea that each one could struggle upward competitive strife only by virtue of his own energy as a complement to this teaching stood the notion t/ocialism would put an end to personal initiative. This individualistic conception of things is, as I havremarked, strengthened in the intellectuals by their new environment among these very technical and ofhigh placed employes the most efficient sometimes find it possible to climb into the most importa positions.

1ll the regular bourgeois pre udices strike deepest root in this class, further, because its members anourished on the study of unscientific theories. They regard as scientific truth that which existed among small bourgeois as sub ective, unreasoned opinion. They have great notions of their own education arefinement, feel themselves elevated far above &the masses) it naturally never occurs to them that the idof these masses may be scientifically correct and that the &science) of their professors may be false.theori%ers, seeing the world always as a mass of abstractions, laboring always with their minds, knownothing of little of material activities, they are fairly convinced that minds control the world. This notshuts them out from the understanding of /ocialist theory. hen they see the masses of laborers and hear of/ocialism they think of a crude &levelling down) which would put an end to their own social and econom

advantages. In contrast to the workers they think of themselves as persons who have something to lose, aforget, therefore, the fact that they are being exploited by the capitalists.

Take this altogether and the result is that a hundred causes separate this new middle class from /ocialism. members have no independent interest which could lead them to an energetic defense of capitalism. But thinterest in /ocialism is e2ually slight. They constitute an intermediate class, without definite class ideals, atherefore they bring into the political struggle an element which is unsteady and incalculable.

In great social disturbances, general strikes, e. g., they may sometimes stand by the workers and so incretheir strength they will be the more likely to do this in cases in which such a policy is directed againreaction. #n other occasions they may side with the capitalists. Those of them in the lower strata will ma

common cause with a &reasonable) /ocialism, such as is represented by the <evisionists. But the powwhich will overthrow capitalism can never come from anywhere outside the great mass of proletarian.

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1. Because the part of the intellectual in the socialist movement has recently been the sub ect of controverI feel obliged to remark that we are here dealing with an altogether different sub ect. In the party discussiothe 2uestion has been, hat role can individual intellectuals play within the socialist movement: 5ere wehave under consideration the problem, hat is the role of the whole class of intellectuals in the generalstruggle of the classes:


Mar#ism $nd Dar!inism

%Dar!inism

Two scientists can hardly be named who have, in the second half of the 0>th century, dominated the hum

mind to a greater degree than arwin and !arx. Their teachings revolutioni%ed the conception that the gremasses had about the world. 3or decades their names have been on the tongues of everybody, and theteachings have become the central point of the mental struggles which accompany the social strugglestoday. The cause of this lies primarily in the highly scientific contents of their teachings.

The scientific importance of !arxism as well as of arwinism consists in their following out the theory oevolution, the one upon the domain of the organic world, of things animate the other, upon the domainsociety. This theory of evolution, however, was in no way new, it had its advocates before arwin an!arx the philosopher, 5egel, even made it the central point of his philosophy. It is, therefore, necessary toobserve closely what were the achievements of arwin and !arx in this domain.

The theory that plants and animals have developed one from another is met with first in the nineteencentury. 3ormerly the 2uestion, & hence come all these thousands and hundreds of thousands of differekinds of plants and animals that we know:J, was answered4 &1t the time of creation God created them each after its kind.J This primitive theory was in conformity with experience had and with the beinformation about the past that was available. 1ccording to available information, all known plants aanimals have always been the same. /cientifically, this experience was thus expressed, &1ll kinds ainvariable because the parents transmit their characteristics to their children.)

There were, however, some peculiarities among plants and animals which gradually forced a differeconception to be entertained. They so nicely let themselves be arranged into a system which was first set by the /wedish scientist Hinnaeus. 1ccording to this system, the animals are divided into phyla, which adivided into classes, classes into orders, orders into families, families into genera, each of which contaifew species. The more semblance there is in their characteristics, the nearer they stand towards each othethis system, and the smaller is the group to which they belong. 1ll the animals classed as mammalian shothe same general characteristics in their bodily frame. The herbivorous animals, and carnivorous animaand monkeys, each of which belongs to a different order, are again differentiated. Bears, dogs, and cats, of which are carnivorous animals, have much more in common in bodily form than they have with horsesmonkeys. This conformity is still more obvious when we examine varieties of the same species the cat, tiand lion resemble each other in many respects where they differ from dogs and bears. If we turn from tclass of mammals to other classes, such as birds or fishes, we find greater differences between classes thwe find within a class. There still persists, however, a semblance in the formation of the body, the skeletand the nervous system. These features first disappear when we turn from this main division, whiembraces all the vertebrates, and go to the molluscs *soft bodied animals+ or to the polyps.

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The entire animal world may thus be arranged into divisions and subdivisions. 5ad every different kind animal been created entirely independent of all the others, there would be no reason why such orders shoexist. There would be no reason why there should not be mammals having six paws. e would have tassume, then, that at the time of creation, God had taken Hinnaeus6 system as a plan and created everythaccording to this plan. 5appily we have another way of accounting for it. The likeness in the constructionthe body may be due to a real family relationship. 1ccording to this conception, the conformity o peculiarities show how near or remote the relationship is, ust as the resemblance between brothers asisters is greater than between remote relatives. The animal classes were, therefore, not created individua but descended one from another. They form one trunk that started with simple foundations and which h

continually developed the last and thin twigs are our present existing kinds. 1ll species of cats descend froa primitive cat, which together with the primitive dog and the primitive bear, is the descendant of som primitive type of carnivorous animal. The primitive carnivorous animal, the primitive hoofed animal and primitive monkey have descended from some primitive mammal, etc.

This theory of descent was advocated by Hamarck and by Geoffrey /t. 5ilaire. It did not, however, mewith general approval. These naturalists could not prove the correctness of this theory and, thereforeremained only a hypothesis, a mere assumption. hen arwin came, however, with his main book, Therigin of !pecies struck like a thunderbolt his theory of evolution was immediately accepted as a strong

proved truth. /ince then the theory of evolution has become inseparable from arwin6s name. hy so:

This was partly due to the fact that through experience ever more material was accumulated which wensupport this theory. 1nimals were found which could not very well be placed into the classification such oviparous mammals *that is, animals which lay eggs and nourish their offspring from their breastTranslator+ fishes having lungs, and invertebrate animals. The theory of descent claimed that these simply the remnants of the transition between the main groups. Excavations have revealed fossil remawhich looked different from animals living now. These remains have partly proved to be the primitive forof our animals, and that the primitive animals have gradually developed to existing ones. Then the theorycells was formed every plant, every animal, consists of millions of cells and has been developed incessant division and differentiation of single cells. 5aving gone so far, the thought that the higheorganisms have descended from primitive beings having but a single cell, could not appear as strange.

1ll these new experiences could not, however, raise the theory to a strongly proved truth. The best proof fthe correctness of this theory would have been to have an actual transformation from one animal kindanother take place before our eyes, so that we could observe it. But this is impossible. 5ow then is it at possible to prove that animal forms are really changing into new forms: This can be done by showing tcause, the propelling force of such development. This arwin did. arwin discovered the mechanism ofanimal development, and in doing so he showed that under certain conditions some animal kinds wnecessarily develop into other animal-kinds. e will now make clear this mechanism.

Its main foundation is the nature of transmission, the fact that parents transmit their peculiarities to childr but that at the same time the children diverge from their parents in some respects and also differ from ea

other. It is for this reason that animals of the same kind are not all alike, but differ in all directions from average type. ithout this so-called variation it would be wholly impossible for one animal species todevelop into another. 1ll that is necessary for the formation of a new species is that the divergence from tcentral type become greater and that it goes on in the same direction until this divergence has becomegreat that the new animal no longer resembles the one from which it descended. But where is that force tcould call forth the ever growing variation in the same direction:

Hamarck declared that this was owing to the usage and much exercise of certain organs that, owing to continuous exercise of certain organs, these become ever more perfected. Aust as the muscles of men6s get strong from running much, in the same way the lion ac2uired its powerful paws and the hare its speelegs. In the same way the giraffes got their long necks because in order to reach the tree leaves, which th

ate, their necks were stretched so that a short-necked animal developed to the long-necked giraffe. To mathis explanation was incredible and it could not account for the fact that the frog should have such a grecolor which served him as a good protecting color.

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To solve the same 2uestion, arwin turned to another line of experience. The animal breeder and thgardener are able to raise artificially new races and varieties. hen a gardener wants to raise from a certai plant a variety having large blossoms, all he has to do is to kill before maturity all those plants having sm blossoms and preserve those having large ones. If he repeats this for a few years in succession, the blossowill be ever larger, because each new generation resembles its predecessor, and our gardener, having alwa picked out the largest of the large for the purpose of propagation, succeeds in raising a plant with very la blossoms. Through such action, done sometimes deliberately and sometimes accidentally, people have raia great number of races of our domesticated animals which differ from their original form much more ththe wild kinds differ from each other.

If we should ask an animal-breeder to raise a long-necked animal from a short-necked one, it would nappear to him an impossibility. 1ll he would have to do would be to choose those having partly longnecks, have them inter-bred, kill the young ones having narrow necks and again have the long-necked int breed. If he repeated this at every new generation the result would be that the neck would ever becolonger and he would get an animal resembling the giraffe.

This result is achieved because there is a definite will with a definite ob ect, which, to raise a certain variechooses certain animals. In nature there is no such will, and all the deviations must again be straightened by interbreeding, so that it is impossible for an animal to keep on departing from the original stock and kgoing in the same direction until it becomes an entirely different species. here then, is that power in naturthat chooses the animals ust as the breeder does:

arwin pondered this problem long before he found its solution in the &struggle for existence.) In this theowe have a reflex of the productive system of the time in which arwin lived, because it was the capitalicompetitive struggle which served him as a picture for the struggle for existence prevailing in nature. It wnot through his own observation that this solution presented itself to him. It came to him by his reading works of the economist !althus. !althus tried to explain that in our bourgeois world there is so muchmisery and starvation and privation because population increases much more rapidly than the existing meof subsistence. There is not enough food for all people must therefore struggle with each other for thexistence, and many must go down in this struggle. By this theory capitalist competition as well as misery existing were declared as an unavoidable natural law. In his autobiography arwin declares that was !althus6 book which made him think about the struggle for existence.

&In #ctober, 0C9C, that is, fifteen months after I had begun my systematic in2uiry, I happened to read for amusem!althus on population, and being well prepared to appreciate the struggle for existence which everywhere goes ofrom long continuous observation of the habits of animals and plants, it at once struck me that under thecircumstances favorable variations would tend to be preserved and unfavorable ones to be destroyed. The result of would be the formation of new species. 5ere, then, I had at last got a theory by which to work.)

It is a fact that the increase in the birth of animals is greater than the existing food permits of sustaininThere is no exception to the rule that all organic beings tend to increase so rapidly that our earth would overrun very soon by the offspring of a single pair, were these not destroyed. It is for this reason thastruggle for existence must arise. Every animal tries to live, does its best to eat, and seeks to avoid beeaten by others. ith its particular peculiarities and weapons it struggles against the entire antagonistiworld, against animals, cold, heat, dryness, inundations, and other natural occurrences that may threatendestroy it. 1bove all, it struggles with the animals of its own kind, who live in the same way, have the sam peculiarities, use the same weapons and live by the same nourishment. This struggle is not a direct one hare does not struggle directly with the hare, nor the lion with the lion- unless it is a struggle for the fema but it is a struggle for existence, a race, a competitive struggle. 1ll of them can not reach a grown-up agmost of them are destroyed, and only those who win the race remain. But which are the ones to win in race: Those which, through their peculiarities, through their bodily structures are best able to find food orescape an enemy in other words, those which are best adapted to existing conditions will survive. &Becathere are ever more individuals born than can remain alive, the struggle as to which shall remain alive mstart again and that creature that has some advantage over the others will survive, but as these divergi peculiarities are transmitted to the new generations, nature itself does the choosing, and a new generatwill arise having changed peculiarities.)

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5ere we have another application for the origin of the giraffe. hen grass does not grow in some places, theanimals must nourish themselves on tree leaves, and all those whose necks are too short to reach these leamust perish. In nature itself there is selection, and nature selects only those having long necks. In conformwith the selection done by the animal breeder, arwin called this process &natural selection.)

This process must necessarily produce new species. Because too many are born of a certain species, mothan the existing food supply can sustain, they are forever trying to spread over a larger area. In order procure their food, those living in the woods go to the plain, those living on the soil go into the water, athose living on the ground climb on trees. "nder these new conditions divergence is necessary. Thes

divergencies are increased, and from the old species a new one develops. This continuous movement existing species branching out into new relations results in these thousands of different animals changistill more.

hile the arwinian theory explains thus the general descent of the animals, their transmutation andformation out of primitive beings, it explains, at the same time, the wonderful conformity throughout nat3ormerly this wonderful conformity could only be explained through the wise superintending care of G 'ow, however, this natural descent is clearly understood. 3or this conformity is nothing else than thadaptation to the means of life. Every animal and every plant is exactly adapted to existing circumstancfor all those whose build is less conformable are less adapted and are exterminated in the struggle fexistence. The green-frog, having descended from the brown-frog, must preserve its protecting color, forthose that deviate from this color are sooner found by the enemies and destroyed or find greater difficultyobtaining their food and must perish.

It was thus that arwin showed us, for the first time, that new species continually formed out of old oneThe theory of descent, which until then was merely a presumptive inference of many phenomena that counot be explained well in any other way, gained the certainty of an absolute inference of definite forces tcould be proved. In this lies the main reason that this theory had so 2uickly dominated the scientifdiscussions and public attention.

%%Mar#ism

If we turn to !arxism we immediately see a great conformity with arwinism. 1s with arwin, thescientific importance of !arx6s work consists in this, that he discovered the propelling force, the cause social development. 5e did not have to prove that such a development was taking place every one knew thfrom the most primitive times new social forms ever supplanted older, but the causes and aims of tdevelopment were unknown.

In his theory !arx started with the information at hand in his time. The great political revolution that gavEurope the aspect it had, the 3rench <evolution, was known to everyone to have been a struggle fosupremacy, waged by the bourgeois against nobility and royalty. 1fter this struggle new class struggleoriginated. The struggle carried on in England by the manufacturing capitalists against the landowndominated politics at the same time the working class revolted against the bourgeoisie. hat were all thesclasses: herein did they differ from each other: !arx proved that these class distinctions were owing tothe various functions each one played in the productive process. It is in the productive process that clashave their origin, and it is this process which determines to what class one belongs. ?roduction is nothielse than the social labor process by which men obtain their means of subsistence from nature. It is t production of the material necessities of life that forms the main structure of society and that determines political relations and social struggles.

The methods of production have continuously changed with the progress of time. hence came theschanges: The manner of labor and the productive relationship depend upon the tools with which peopwork, upon the development of techni2ue and upon the means of production in general. Because in t!iddle 1ges people worked with crude tools, while now they work with gigantic machinery, we had at tha

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time small trade and feudalism, while now we have capitalism it is also for this reason that at that time feudal nobility and the small bourgeoisie were the most important classes, while now it is the bourgeoiand the proletarians which are the classes.

It is the development of tools, of these technical aids which men direct, which is the main cause, t propelling force of all social development. It is self-understood that the people are ever trying to improthese tools so that their labor be easier and more productive, and the practice they ac2uire in using thtools, leads their thoughts upon further improvements. #wing to this development, a slow or 2uick progreof techni2ue takes place, which at the same time changes the social forms of labor. This leads to new cla

relations, new social institutions and new classes. 1t the same time social, i. e., political struggles arisThose classes predominating under the old process of production try to preserve artificially their institutiowhile the rising classes try to promote the new process of production and by waging the class struggagainst the ruling class and by con2uering them they pave the way for the further unhindered developmentechni2ue.

Thus the !arxian theory disclosed the propelling force and the mechanism of social development. In dointhis it has proved that history is not something irregular, and that the various social systems are not the resof chance or hapha%ard events, but that there is a regular development in a definite direction. In doing thwas also proved that social development does not cease with our system, because techni2ue continuadevelops.

Thus, both teachings, the teachings of arwin and of !arx, the one in the domain of the organic world andthe other upon the field of human society, raised the theory of evolution to a positive science.

In doing this they made the theory of evolution acceptable to the masses as the basic conception of socand biological development.

%%%Mar#ism and the "lass Str&ggle

hile it is true that for a certain theory to have a lasting influence on the human mind it must have a highlscientific value, yet this in itself is not enough. It 2uite often happened that a scientific theory was of utmimportance to science, nevertheless, with the probable exception of a few learned men, it evoked no interwhatsoever. /uch, for instance, was 'ewton6s theory of gravitation. This theory is the foundation oastronomy, and it is owing to this theory that we have our knowledge of heavenly bodies, and can foretell arrival of certain planets and eclipses. Fet, when 'ewton6s theory of gravitation made its appearance, a feEnglish scientists were its only adherents. The broad mass paid no attention to this theory. It first becaknown to the mass by a popular book of Koltaire6s written a half century afterwards.

There is nothing surprising about this. /cience has become a specialty for a certain group of learned meand its progress concerns these men only, ust as smelting is the smith6s specialty, and an improvementthe smelting of iron concerns him only. #nly that which all people can make use of and which is found everyone to be a life necessity can gain adherents among the large mass. hen, therefore, we see that certain scientific theory stirs up %eal and passion in the large mass, this can be attributed to the fact that theory serves them as a weapon in the class struggle. 3or it is the class struggle that engages almost all people.

This can be seen most clearly in !arxism. ere the !arxian economic teachings of no importance in themodern class struggle, then none but a few professional economists would spend their time on them. Ithowever, owing to the fact that !arxism serves the proletarians as a weapon in the struggle agains

capitalism that the scientific struggles are centered on this theory. It is owing to this service that !arxname is honored by millions who know even very little of his teaching, and is despised by thousands tunderstand nothing of his theory. It is owing to the great role the !arxian theory plays in the class strugglthat his theory is diligently studied by the large mass and that it dominates the human mind.

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The proletarian class struggle existed before !arx for it is the offspring of capitalist exploitation. It wanothing more than natural that the workers, being exploited, should think about and demand another systof society where exploitation would be abolished. But all they could do was to hope and dream aboutThey were not sure of its coming to pass. !arx gave to the labor movement and /ocialism a theoreticafoundation. 5is social theory showed that social systems were in a continuous flow wherein capitalism wonly a temporary form. 5is studies of capitalism showed that owing to the continuous development perfection of techni2ue, capitalism must necessarily develop to /ocialism. This new system of productican only be established by the proletarians struggling against the capitalists, whose interest it is to maintthe old system of production. /ocialism is therefore the fruit and aim of the proletarian class struggle.

Thanks to !arx, the proletarian class struggle took on an entirely different form. !arxism became a weaponin the proletarian hands in place of vague hopes he gave a positive aim, and in teaching a clear recognitof the social development he gave strength to the proletarian and at the same time he created the foundatfor the correct tactics to be pursued. It is from !arxism that the workingmen can prove the transitoriness capitalism and the necessity and certainty of their victory. 1t the same time !arxism has done away with thold utopian views that /ocialism would be brought about by the intelligence and good will of some udiciomen as if /ocialism were a demand for ustice and morality as if the ob ect were to establish an infalliband perfect society. Austice and morality change with the productive system, and every class has differconceptions of them. /ocialism can only be gained by the class whose interest lies in /ocialism, and it is na 2uestion about a perfect social system, but a change in the methods of production leading to a higher sti. e., to social production.

Because the !arxian theory of social development is indispensable to the proletarians in their struggle, thethe proletarians, try to make it a part of their inner self it dominates their thoughts, their feelings, their enconception of the world. Because !arxism is the theory of social development, in the midst of which wstand, therefore !arxism itself stands at the central point of the great mental struggles that accompany oueconomic revolution.

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Dar!inism and the "lass Str&ggleThat !arxism owes its importance and position only to the role it takes in the proletarian class struggle, known to all. ith arwinism, however, things seem different to the superficial observer, for arwinismdeals with a new scientific truth which has to contend with religious pre udices and ignorance. Fet it is nhard to see that in reality arwinism had to undergo the same experiences as !arxism. arwinism is not amere abstract theory which was adopted by the scientific world after discussing and testing it in a meob ective manner. 'o, immediately after arwinism made its appearance, it had its enthusiastic advocatesand passionate opponents arwin6s name, too, was either highly honored by people who understoosomething of his theory, or despised by people who knew nothing more of his theory than that &mdescended from the monkey,) and who were surely un2ualified to udge from a scientific standpoint tcorrectness or falsity of arwin6s theory. arwinism, too, played a role in the class-struggle, and it is owinto this role that it spread so rapidly and had enthusiastic advocates and venomous opponents.

arwinism served as a tool to the bourgeoisie in their struggle against the feudal class, against the nobilitclergy-rights and feudal lords. This was an entirely different struggle from the struggle now waged by proletarians. The bourgeoisie was not an exploited class striving to abolish exploitation. #h no. hat the bourgeoisie wanted was to get rid of the old ruling powers standing in their way. The bourgeoisie themselwanted to rule, basing their demands upon the fact that they were the most important class, the leadersindustry. hat argument could the old class, the class that became nothing but useless parasites, bring fortagainst them: They leaned on tradition, on their ancient divine rights. These were their pillars. ith the aiof religion the priests held the great mass in sub ection and ready to oppose the demands of the bourgeoisi

It was therefore for their own interests that the bourgeoisie were in duty bound to undermine the &divinright of rulers. 'atural science became a weapon in the opposition to belief and tradition science and th

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newly discovered natural laws were put forward it was with these weapons that the bourgeoisie foughtthe new discoveries could prove that what the priests were teaching was false, the &divine) authority of th priests would crumble and the &divine rights) en oyed by the feudal class would be destroyed. #f course feudal class was not con2uered by this only, as material power can only be overthrown by material pow but mental weapons become material tools. It is for this reason that the bourgeoisie relied so much upmaterial science.

arwinism came at the desired time arwin6s theory that man is the descendant of a lower animal destroyethe entire foundation of $hristian dogma. It is for this reason that as soon as arwinism made its appearanc

the bourgeoisie grasped it with great %eal.This was not the case in England. 5ere we again see how important the class struggle was for the spreadiof arwin6s theory. In England the bourgeoisie had already ruled a few centuries, and as a mass they had ninterest to attack or destroy religion. It is for this reason that although this theory was widely readEngland, it did not stir anybody it merely remained a scientific theory without great practical importanarwin himself considered it as such, and for fear that his theory might shock the religious pre udice

prevailing, he purposely avoided applying it immediately to men. It was only after numerous postponemeand after others had done it before him, that he decided to make this step. In a letter to 5aeckel he deplorthe fact that his theory must hit upon so many pre udices and so much indifference that he did not expectlive long enough to see it break through these obstacles.

But in Germany things were entirely different, and 5aeckel correctly answered arwin that in Germany tharwinian theory met with an enthusiastic reception. It so happened that when arwin6s theory made itappearance, the bourgeoisie was preparing to carry on a new attack on absolutism and unkerism. The libe bourgeoisie was headed by the intellectuals. Ernest 5aeckel, a great scientist, and of still greater darinimmediately drew in his book, &'atural $reation,) most daring conclusions against religion. /o, whilarwinism met with the most enthusiastic reception by the progressive bourgeoisie, it was also bitteropposed by the reactionists.

The same struggle also took place in other European countries. Everywhere the progressive libe bourgeoisie had to struggle against reactionary powers. These reactionists possessed, or were trying to obtthrough religious followers, the power coveted. "nder these circumstances, even the scientific discussiowere carried on with the %eal and passion of a class struggle. The writings that appeared pro and conarwin have therefore the character of social polemics, despite the fact that they bear the names of scientifauthors. !any of 5aeckel6s popular writings, when looked at from a scientific standpoint, are verysuperficial, while the arguments and remonstrances of his opponents show unbelievable foolishness that only be met which only find their e2ual in the arguments used against !arx.

The struggle carriedon by the liberal bourgeoisie against feudalism was not fought to its finish. This w partly owing to the fact that everywhere /ocialist proletarians made their appearance, threatening all ruli powers, including the bourgeoisie. The liberal bourgeoisie relented, while the reactionary tendencies gain

an upper hand. The former %eal in combatting religion disappeared entirely, and while it is true that liberals and reactionists were still fighting among each other, in reality, however, they neared each othThe interest formerly manifested in science as a weapon in the class struggle, has entirely disappeared, whthe reactionary tendency that the masses must be brought to religion, became ever more pronounced.

The estimation of science has also undergone a change. 3ormerly the educated bourgeoisie founded upscience a materialistic conception of the universe, wherein they saw the solution of the universal riddle. 'omysticism has gained the upper hand all that was solved appeared as very trivial, while all things thremained unsolved, appeared as very great indeed, embracing the most important life 2uestion. 1 scepticcritical and doubting frame of mind has taken the place of the former ubilant spirit in favor of science.

This could also be seen in the stand taken against arwin. & hat does his theory show: It leaves unsolvedthe universal riddle; hence comes this wonderful nature of transmission, whence the ability of animat beings to change so fitly:) 5ere lies the mysterious life riddle that could not be overcome with mechanic principles. Then, what was left of arwinism in the light of later criticism:

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#f course, the advance of science began to make rapid progress. The solution of one problem always brina few more problems to the surface to be solved, which were hidden underneath the theory of transmissiThis theory, that arwin had to accept as a basis of in2uiry, was ever more investigated, and a hot discussioarose about the individual factors of development and the struggle for existence. hile a few scientistdirected their attention to variation, which they considered due to exercise and adaptation to life *followthe principle laid down by Hamarck+ this idea was expressly denied by scientists like eissman and othehile arwin only assumed gradual and slow changes, e Kries found sudden and leaping cases of

variation resulting in the sudden appearance of new species. 1ll this, while it went to strengthen and develthe theory of descent, in some cases made the impression that the new discoveries rent asunder t

arwinian theory, and therefore every new discovery that made it appear so was hailed by the reactionists a bankruptcy of arwinism. This social conception had its influence on science. <eactionary scientistclaimed that a spiritual element is necessary. The supernatural and insolvable has taken the place arwinism and that class which in the beginning was the banner bearer of arwinism became ever morereactionary.

'Dar!inism vers&s Socialism

arwinism has been of inestimable service to the bourgeoisie in its struggle against the old powers. It wtherefore only natural that bourgeoisdom should apply it against its later enemy, the proletarians not becathe proletarians were antagonistically disposed to arwinism, but ust the reverse. 1s soon as arwinismmade its appearance, the proletarian vanguard, the /ocialists, hailed the arwinian theory, because inarwinism they saw a corroboration and completion of their own theory not as some superficial opponen

believe, that they wanted to base /ocialism upon arwinism but in the sense that the arwinian discovery, (that even in the apparently stagnant organic world there is a continuous development ( is a glorioucorroboration and completion of the !arxian theory of social development.

Fet it was natural for the bourgeoisie to make use of arwinism against the proletarians. The bourgeoisihad to contend with two armies, and the reactionary classes know this full well. hen the bourgeoisiattacks their authority, they point at the proletarians and caution the bourgeoisie to beware lest all authorcrumble. In doing this, the reactionists mean to frighten the bourgeoisie so that they may desist from arevolutionary activity. #f course, the bourgeois representatives answer that there is nothing to fear that thscience but refutes the groundless authority of the nobility and supports them in their struggle agaienemies of order.

1t a congress of naturalists, the reactionary politician and scientist Kirchow assailed the arwinian theoron the ground that it supported /ocialism. &Be careful of this theory,) he said to the arwinists, &for ththeory is very nearly related to the theory that caused so much dread in our neighboring country.) Thallusion to the ?aris $ommune, made in the year famous for the hunting of /ocialists, must have had a greeffect. hat shall be said, however, about the science of a professor who attacks arwinism with theargument that it is not correct because it is dangerous; This reproach, of being in league with the rrevolutionists, caused a lot of annoyance to 5aeckel, the defendant of this theory. 5e could not stand iImmediately afterwards he tried to demonstrate that it is ust the arwinian theory that shows thuntenableness of the /ocialist demands, and that arwinism and /ocialism &endure each other as fire anwater.)

Het us follow 5aeckel6s contentions, whose main thoughts re-occur in most authors who base tharguments against /ocialism on arwinism.

/ocialism is a theory which presupposes natural e2uality for people, and strives to bring about socie2uality e2ual rights, e2ual duties, e2ual possessions and e2ual en oyments. arwinism, on the contrary, the scientific proof of ine2uality. The theory of descent establishes the fact that animal development goesthe direction of ever greater differentiation or division of labor the higher or more perfect the animal, greater the ine2uality existing. The same holds also good in society. 5ere, too, we see the great division

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labor between vocations, class, etc., and the more society has developed, the greater become the ine2ualitin strength, ability and faculty. The theory of descent is therefore to be recommended as &the best antidotthe /ocialist demand of making all e2ual.)

The same holds good, but to a greater extent, of the arwinian theory of survival. /ocialism wants to aboliscompetition and the struggle for existence. But arwinism teaches us that this struggle is unavoidable anda natural law for the entire organic world. 'ot only is this struggle natural, but it is also useful and beneficial. This struggle brings an ever greater perfection, and this perfection consists in an ever greaextermination of the unfit. #nly the chosen minority, those who are 2ualified to withstand competition, c

survive the great ma ority must perish. !any are called, but few are chosen. The struggle for existencresults at the same time in a victory for the best, while the bad and unfit must perish. This may lamentable, ust as it is lamentable that all must die, but the fact can neither be denied nor changed.

e wish to remark here how a small change of almost similar words serves as a defence of capitalismarwin spoke about the survival of the fittest, of those that are best fitted to the conditions. /eeing that ithis struggle those that are better organi%ed con2uer the others, the con2uerors were called the vigilant,later the &best.) This expression was coined by 5erbert /pencer. In thus winning on their field, thcon2uerors in the social struggle, the large capitalists, were proclaimed the best people.

5aeckel retained and still upholds this conception. In 0C>7 he said,

& arwinism, or the theory of selection, is thoroughly aristocratic it is based upon the survival of the best. The divisof labor brought about by development causes an ever greater variation in character, an ever greater ine2uality amothe individuals, in their activity, education and condition. The higher the advance of human culture, the greater difference and gulf between the various classes existing. $ommunism and the demands put up by the /ocialists demanding an e2uality of conditions and activity is synonymous with going back to the primitive stages of barbaris

The English philosopher 5erbert /pencer already had a theory on social growth before arwin. This was the bourgeois theory of individualism, based upon the struggle for existence. Hater he brought this theory iclose relation with arwinism. &In the animal world,) he said, &the old, weak and sick are ever rooted and only the strong and healthy survive. The struggle for existence serves therefore as a purification of

race, protecting it from deterioration. This is the happy effect of this struggle, for if this struggle shoucease and each one were sure of procuring its existence without any struggle whatsoever, the race wounecessarily deteriorate. The support given to the sick, weak and unfit causes a general race degenerationsympathy, finding its expressions in charity, goes beyond its reasonable bounds, it misses its ob ect insteof diminishing, it increases the suffering for the new generations. The good effect of the struggle fexistence can best be seen in wild animals. They are all strong and healthy because they had to underthousands of dangers wherein all those that were not 2ualified had to perish. 1mong men and domestanimals sickness and weakness are so general because the sick and weak are preserved. /ocialism, having its aim to abolish the struggle for existence in the human world, will necessarily bring about an ever growmental and physical deterioration.)

These are the main contentions of those who use arwinism as a defence of the bourgeois system. /trong athese arguments might appear at first sights they were not hard for the /ocialists to overcome. To a largextent, they are the old arguments used against /ocialism, but wearing the new garb of arwinisticterminology, and they show an utter ignorance of /ocialism as well as of capitalism.

Those who compare the social organism with the animal body leave unconsidered the fact that men do differ like various cells or organs. but only in degree of their capacity. In society the division of labor cango so far that all capacities should perish at the expense of one. hat is more, everyone who understandsomething of /ocialism knows that the efficient division of labor does not cease with /ocialism that firunder /ocialism real divisions will be possible. The difference between the workers, their ability, anemployments will not cease all that will cease is the difference between workers and exploiters.

hile it is positively true that in the struggle for existence those animals that are strong, healthy and wesurvive yet this does not happen under capitalist competition. 5ere victory does not depend upon perfecti

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of those engaged in the struggle, but in something that lies outside of their body. hile this struggle mahold good with the small bourgeois, where success depends upon personal abilities and 2ualifications, with the further development of capital, success does not depend upon personal abilities, but upon t possession of capital. The one who has a larger capital at command as will soon con2uer the one who hasmaller capital at his disposal, although the latter may be more skillful. It is not the personal 2ualities, but possession of money that decides who the victor shall be in the struggle. hen the small capitalists perishthey do not perish as men but as capitalists they are not weeded out from among the living, but from t bourgeoisie. They still exist, but no longer as capitalists. The competition existing in the capitalist systemtherefore something different in re2uisites and results from the animal struggle for existence.

Those people that perish as people are members of an entirely different class, a class that does not take pin the competitive struggle. The workers do not compete with the capitalists, they only sell their labor powto them. #wing to their being propertyless, they have not even the opportunity to measure their gre2ualities and enter a race with the capitalists. Their poverty and misery cannot be attributed to the fact tthey fell in the competitive struggle on account of weakness. but because they were paid very little for thlabor power, it is for this very reason that, although their children are born strong and healthy, they perishgreat mass, while the children born to rich parents, although born sick, remain alive by means of tnourishment and great care that is bestowed on them. These children of the poor do not die because they sick or weak, but because of external causes. It is capitalism which creates all those unfavorable conditio by means of exploitation, reduction of wages, unemployment crises, bad dwellings, and long hours employment. It is the capitalist system that causes so many strong and healthy ones to succumb.

Thus the /ocialists prove that different from the animal world, the competitive struggle existing betwemen does not bring forth the best and most 2ualified, but destroys many strong and healthy ones becausetheir poverty, while those that are rich, even if weak and sick, survive. /ocialists prove that personal strengis not the determining factor, but it is something outside of man it is the possession of money thdetermines who shall survive and who shall perish.

'%

at&ral La! and Social Theor(The false conclusions reached by 5aeckel and /pencer on /ocialism are no surprise. arwinism and!arxism are two distinct theories, one of which applies to the animal world, while the other applies tsociety. They supplement each other in the sense that, according to the arwinian theory of evolution, thanimal world develops up to the stage of man, and from then on, that is, after the animal has risen to mthe !arxian theory of evolution applies. hen however, one wishes to carry the theory of one domain intothat of the other, where different laws are applicable he must draw wrong inferences.

/uch is the case when we wish to ascertain from natural law what social form is natural and applicable athis is ust what the bourgeois arwinists did. They drew the inference that the laws which govern in thanimal world, where the arwinian theory applies, apply with e2ual force in the capitalist system, and ththerefore capitalism is a natural order and must endure forever. #n the other hand, there were som/ocialists who desired to prove that, according to arwin, the /ocialist system is the natural one. /aid these/ocialists,

&"nder capitalism men do not carry on the struggle for existence with like tools, but with unlike ones artificially maThe natural superiority of those that are healthier, stronger, more intelligent or morally better, is of no avail so long birth, class, or the possession of money control this struggle. /ocialism, in abolishing all these artificial dissimilaritiwill make e2ual provisions for all, and then only will the struggle for existence prevail, wherein the real persosuperiorities will be the deciding factors.)

These critical arguments, while they are not bad when used as refutations against bourgeois arwinists, astill faulty. Both sets of arguments, those used by the bourgeois arwinists in favor of capitalism, and thoof the /ocialists, who base their /ocialism on arwin, are falsely rooted. Both arguments, although reaching

9D



opposite conclusions, are e2ually false because they proceed from the wrong premises that there is a natuand a permanent system of society.

!arxism has taught us that there is no such thing as a natural and a permanent social system, and that thecan be none, or, to put it another way, every social system is natural, for every social system is necessary anatural under given conditions. There is not a single definite social system that can be accepted as naturthe various social systems take the place of one another as a result of developments in the means production. Each system is therefore the natural one for its particular time. $apitalism is not the only natuorder, as the bourgeoisie believes, and no /ocialist system is the only natural system, as some /ocialists tr

to prove. $apitalism was natural under the conditions of the nineteenth century, ust as feudalism was in t!iddle 1ges, and as /ocialism will be in the coming age. The attempt to put forward a certain system as theonly natural and permanent one is as futile as if we were to take an animal and say that this animal is tmost perfect of all animals. arwinism teaches us that every animal is e2ually adapted and e2ually perfect form to suit its special environments, and !arxism teaches us that every social system is particularly adaptto its conditions, and that in this sense it may be called good and perfect.

5erein lies the main reason why the endeavor of the bourgeois arwinists to defend the foundering capitalisystem is bound to fail. 1rguments based on natural science, when applied to social 2uestions, must almoalways lead to wrong conclusions. This happens because, while nature is very slow in its development achanges during human history are practicably imperceptible, so that it may almost be regarded as stabhuman society nevertheless undergoes 2uick and continuous changes. In order to understand the moviforce and the cause of social development, we must study society as such. It is only here that we can find reason of social development. !arxism and arwinism should remain in their own domains they areindependent of each other and there is no direct connection between them.

5ere arises a very important 2uestion. $an we stop at the conclusion that !arxism applies only to societyand that arwinism applies only to the organic world, and that neither of these theories is applicable in thother domain: In practice it is very convenient to have one principle for the human world and another ofor the animal world. In having this, however, we forget that man is also an animal. !an has developed froan animal, and the laws that apply to the animal world cannot suddenly lose their applicability to man. Itrue that man is a very peculiar animal, but if that is the case it is necessary to find from these ve peculiarities why those principles applicable to all animals do not apply to men, and why they assumdifferent form.

5ere we come to another grave problem. The bourgeois arwinists do not encounter such a problem theysimply declare that man is an animal, and without further ado they set about to apply the arwinia principles to men. e have seen to what erroneous conclusions they come. To us this 2uestion is not ssimple we must first be clear about the differences between men and animals, and then we can see why,the human world, the arwinian principles change into different ones, namely, into !arxism.

'%%The Sociabilit( of Man

The first peculiarity that we observe in man is that he is a social being. In this he does not differ from animals, for even among the latter there are many species that live socially among themselves. But mdiffers from all those that we have observed until now in dealing with the arwinian theory he differs frothose animals that do not live socially, but that struggle with each other for subsistence. It is not with trapacious animals which live separately that man must be compared, but with those that live socially. Tsociability of animals is a power that we have not yet spoken of a power that calls forth new 2ualities amoanimals.

It is an error to regard the struggle for existence as the only power giving shape to the organic world. Tstruggle for existence is the main power that causes the origin of new species, but arwin himself knew fuwell that other powers co-operate which give shape to the forms, habits, and peculiarities of animate thin

9



In his & escent of !an) arwin elaborately treated sexual selection and showed that the competition ofmales for females gave rise to the gay colors of the birds and butterflies and also to the singing voices birds. There he also devoted a chapter to social living. !any illustrations on this head are also to be found 8ropotkin6s book, &!utual 1id as a 3actor in Evolution.) The best representation of the effects osociability are given in 8autsky6s &Ethics and the !aterialistic $onception of 5istory.)

hen a number of animals live in a group, herd or flock, they carry on the struggle for existence in commoagainst the outside world within such a group the struggle for existence ceases. The animals which lisocially no longer wage a struggle against each other, wherein the weak succumb ust the reverse, the we

en oy the same advantages as the strong. hen some animals have the advantage by means of greaterstrength, sharper smell, or experience in finding the best pasture or in warding off the enemy, this advantadoes not accrue only to these better fitted, but also to the entire group. This combining of the animaseparate powers into one unit gives to the group a new and much stronger power than any one individu possessed, even the strongest. It is owing to this united strength that the defenseless plant-eaters can wardrapacious animals. It is only by means of this unity that some animals are able to protect their young.

1 second advantage of sociability arises from the fact that where animals live socially, there is a possibilof the division of labor. /uch animals send out scouts or place sentinels whose ob ect it is to look after tsafety of all, while others spend their time either in eating or in plucking, relying upon their guards to wthem of danger.

/uch an animal society becomes, in some respects a unit, a single organism. 'aturally, the relation remainmuch looser than the cells of a single animal body nevertheless, the group becomes a coherent body, athere must be some power that holds together the individual members.

This power is found in the social motives, the instinct that holds them together and causes the continuancethe group. Every animal must place the interest of the entire group above his own it must always ainstinctively for the advantage and maintenance of the group without consideration of itself. 1s long as tweak plant-eaters think of themselves only and run away when attacked by a rapacious animal, each ominding his life only, the entire herd disappears. #nly when the strong motive of self-preservation suppressed by a stronger motive of union, and each animal risks its life for the protection of all, only thdoes the herd remain and en oy the advantages of sticking together. In such a case, self-sacrifice, bravedevotion, discipline and consciousness must arise, for where these do not exist society dissolves society conly exist where these exist.

These instincts, while they have their origin in habit and necessity, are strengthened by the struggle existence. Every animal herd still stands in a competitive struggle against the same animals of a differherd those that are best fitted to withstand the enemy will survive, while those that are poorer e2uipped w perish. That group in which the social instinct is better developed will be able to hold its ground, while group in which social instinct is low will either fall an easy prey to its enemies or will not be in a positionfind favorable feeding places. These social instincts become therefore the most important and decisi

factors that determine who shall survive in the struggle for existence. It is owing to this that the socinstincts have been elevated to the position of predominant factors.

These relations throw an entirely new light upon the views of the bourgeois arwinists. Their claim is ththe extermination of the weak is natural and that it is necessary in order to prevent the corruption of the raand that the protection given to the weak serves to deteriorate the race. But what do we see: In nature itsein the animal world, we find that the weak are protected that it is not by their own personal strength tthey maintain themselves, and that they are not brushed aside on account of their personal weakness. Tarrangement does not weaken the group, but gives to it new strength. The animal group in which mutual is best developed is best fit to maintain itself in the strife. That which, according to the narrow conceptappeared as a cause of weakness, becomes ust the reverse, a cause of strength.

The sociable animals are in a position to beat those that carry on the struggle individually. This so-calldegenerating and deteriorating race carries off the victory and practically proves itself to be the most skiand best.

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5ere we first see fully how near sighted, narrow and unscientific are the claims and arguments of th bourgeois arwinists. Their natural laws and their conceptions of what is natural are derived from a part the animal world, from those which man resembles least, while those animals that practically live under same circumstances as man are left unobserved. The reason for this can be found in the bourgeoise6s ocircumstances they themselves belong to a class where each competes individually against the othTherefore, they see among animals only that form of the struggle for existence. It is for this reason that thoverlook those forms of the struggle that are of greatest importance to men.

It is true that these bourgeois arwinists are aware of the fact that man is not ruled by mere egoism witho

regard for his neighbors. The bourgeois scientists say very often that every man is possessed of two feelinthe egotistical, or self-love, and the altruistic, the love of others. But as they do not know the social originthis altruism, they cannot understand its limitations and conditions. 1ltruism in their mouths becomes a vindistinct idea which they don6t know how to handle.

Everything that applies to the social animals applies also to man. #ur ape-like ancestors and the primitimen developing from them were all defenseless, weak animals who, as almost all apes do, lived in trib5ere the same social motives and instincts had to arise which later developed to moral feelings. That ocustoms and morals are nothing other than social feelings, feelings that we find among animals, is knownall even arwin spoke about &the habits of animals which would be called moral among men.) Thdifference is only in the measure of consciousness as soon as these social feelings become clear to methey assume the character of moral feelings. 5ere we see that the moral conception ( which bourgeoauthors considered as the main distinction between men and animals ( is not common to men, but is a dir product of conditions existing in the animal world.

It is in the nature of the origin of these moral feelings that they do not spread further than the social groupwhich the animal or the man belongs. These feelings serve the practical ob ect of keeping the group togeth beyond this they are useless. In the animal world, the range and nature of the social group is determinedthe circumstances of life, and therefore the group almost always remains the same. 1mong men, howevthe groups, these social units, are ever changing in accordance with economic development, and this achanges the social instincts.

The original groups, the stems of the wild and barbarian people, were more strongly united than the animgroups. 3amily relationship and a common language strengthened this union further. Every individual hthe support of the entire tribe. "nder such conditions, the social motives, the moral feelings, thsubordination of the individual to the whole, must have developed to the utmost. ith the furthedevelopment of society, the tribes are dissolved and their places are taken by new unions, by towns a peoples.

'ew formations step into the place of the old ones, and the members of these groups carry on the struggfor existence in common against other peoples. In e2ual ratio with economic development, the si%e of thunions increases, the struggle of each against the other decreases, and social feelings spread. 1t the end

ancient times we find that all the people known then formed a unit, the <oman Empire, and at that time arthe theory ( the moral feelings having their influence on almost all the people ( which led to the maxim thall men are brothers.

hen we regard our own times, we see that economically all the people form one unit, although a very weaone nevertheless the abstract feeling of brotherhood becomes ever more popular. The social feelings astrongest among members of the same class, for classes are the essential units embodying particular intereand including certain members. Thus we see that the social units and social feelings change in humsociety. These changes are brought about by economic changes, and the higher the stage of economdevelopment, the higher and nobler the social feelings.

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'%%%Tools) Tho&ght and Lang&age

/ociability, with its conse2uences, the moral feelings, is a peculiarity which distinguishes man from som but not from all, animals. There are, however, some peculiarities which belong to man only, and whiseparate him from the entire animal world. These, in the first instance, are language, then reason. !an is alsthe only animal that makes use of self-made tools.

3or all these things, animals have but the slightest propensity, but among men, these have developessentially new characteristics. !any animals have some kind of voice, and by means of sounds they cacome to some understanding, but only man has such sounds as serve as a medium for naming things aactions. 1nimals also have brains with which they think, but the human mind shows, as we shall see later, entirely new departure, which we designate as reasonable or abstract thinking. 1nimals, too, make use inanimate things which they use for certain purposes for instance, the building of nests. !onkeys sometimuse sticks or stones, but only man uses tools which he himself deliberately makes for particular purposThese primitive tendencies among animals show us that the peculiarities possessed by man came to him, by means of some wonderful creation, but by continuous development.

1nimals living isolated can not arrive at such a stage of development. It is only as a social being that mcan reach this stage. #utside the pale of society, language is ust as useless as an eye in darkness, and bound to die. Hanguage is possible only in society, and only there is it needed as a means by which membmay understand one another. 1ll social animals possess some means of understanding each other, otherwithey would not be able to execute certain plans con ointly. The sounds that were necessary as a means communication for the primitive man while at his tasks must have developed into names of activities, alater into names of things,

The use of tools also presupposes a society, for it is only through society that attainments can be preservIn a state of isolated life every one has to make discoveries for himself and with the death of the discovethe discovery also becomes extinct, and each has to start anew from the very beginning. It is only throusociety that the experience and knowledge of former generations can be preserved, perpetuated, adeveloped. In a group or body a few may die, but the group, as such, does not. It remains. 8nowledge in tuse of tools is not born with man, but is ac2uired later. !ental tradition, such as is possible only in society, therefore necessary.

hile these special characteristics of man are inseparable from his social life, they also stand in stronrelation to each other. These characteristics have not been developed singly, but all have progressed common. That thought and language can exist and develop only in common is known to everyone who h but tried to think of the nature of his own thoughts. hen we think or consider, we, in fact, talk to ouselves we observe then that it is impossible for us to think clearly without using words. here we do nothink with words our thoughts remain indistinct and we can not combine the various thoughts. Everyone reali%e this from his own experience. This is because so-called abstract reason is perceptive thought andtake place only by means of perceptions. ?erceptions we can designate and hold only by means of namEvery attempt to broaden our minds, every attempt to advance our knowledge must begin by distinguishand classifying by means of names or by giving to the old ones a more precise meaning. Hanguage is body of the mind, the material by which all human science can be built up.

The difference between the human mind and the animal mind was very aptly shown by /chopenhauer.

This citation is 2uoted by 8autsky in his &Ethics and the !aterialist $onception of 5istory) *pages 09>-=English Translation+. The animal6s actions are dependent upon visual motives, it is only by these that it s

hears or observes in any other way. e can always tell what induced the animal to do this or the other actfor we, too, can see it if we look. ith man6s however, it is entirely different. e can not foretell what hewill do, for we do not know the motives that induce him to act they are thoughts in his head. !an considerand in so doing, all his knowledge, the result of former experience, comes into play, and it is then that

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decides how to act. The acts of an animal depend upon immediate impression, while those of man depeupon abstract conceptions, upon his thinking and perceiving. !an is at the same time influenced by fineinvisible motives. Thus all his movements bear the impress of being guided by principles and intentiowhich give them the appearance of independence and obviously distinguishes them from those of animals

#wing to their having bodily wants, men and animals are forced to seek to satisfy them in the natural ob esurrounding them. The impression on the mind is the immediate impulse and beginning the satisfactionthe wants is the aim and end of the act. ith the animal, action follows immediately after impression. It seeits prey or food and immediately it umps, grasps, eats, or does that which is necessary for grasping, and t

is inherited as an instinct. The animal hears some hostile sound, and immediately it runs away if its legs so developed to run 2uickly, or lies down like dead so as not to be seen if its color serves as a protectoBetween man6s impressions and acts, however, there comes into his head a long chain of thoughts aconsiderations. 5is actions will depend upon the result of these considerations.

hence comes this difference: It is not hard to see that it is closely associated with the use of tools. In thesame manner that thought arises between man6s impressions and acts, the tool comes in between man athat which he seeks to attain. 3urthermore, since the tool stands between man and outside ob ects, thougmust arise between the impression and the performance. !an does not start empty-handed against his enemor tear down fruit, but he goes about it in a roundabout manner, he takes a tool, a weapon *weapons are atools+ which he uses against the hostile animal therefore his mind must also make the same circuit, follow the first impressions, but it must think of the tools and then follow through to the ob ect. This matecircuit causes the mental circuit the thoughts leading to a certain act are the result of the tools necessary the performance of the act.

5ere we took a very simple case of primitive tools and the first stages of mental development. The mocomplicated techni2ue becomes, the greater is the material circuit, and as a result the mind has to magreater circuits. hen each made his own tools, the thought of hunger and struggle must have directed thhuman mind to the making of tools. 5ere we have a longer chain of thoughts between the impressions athe ultimate satisfaction of men6s needs. hen we come down to our own times, we find that this chain very long and complicated. The worker who is discharged foresees the hunger that is bound to come buys a newspaper in order to see whether there is any demand for laborers he goes to the railroad, offhimself for a wage which he will get only long afterwards, so that he may be in a position to buy food athus protect himself from starvation. hat a long circuitous chain the mind must make before it reaches idestiny. But it agrees with our highly developed techni2ue, by means of which man can satisfy his wants.

!an, however, does not rule over one tool only, but over many, which he applies for different purposes, anfrom which he can choose. !an, because of these tools, is not like the animal. The animal never advance beyond the tools and weapons with which it was born, while man makes his tools and changes them at w!an, being an animal using different tools, must possess the mental ability to choose them. In his heavarious thoughts come and go, his mind considers all the tools and the conse2uences of their application, his actions depend upon these considerations. 5e also combines one thought with another, and holds fast

the idea that fits in with his purpose.1nimals have not this capacity it would be useless for them for they would not know what to do with it. #account of their bodily form, their actions are circumscribed within narrow bounds. The lion can only uupon his prey, but can not think of catching it by running after it. The hare is so formed that it can run it no other means of defense although it may like to have. These animals have nothing to consider except moment of umping or running. Every animal is so formed as to fit into some definite place. Their actiomust become strong habits. These habits are not unchangeable. 1nimals are not machines, when brought indifferent circumstances they may ac2uire different habits. It is not in the 2uality of their brains, but in formation of their bodies that animal restrictions lie. The animal6s action is limited by its bodily form surroundings, and conse2uently it has little need for reflection. To reason would therefore be useless fo

and would only lead to harm rather than to good.!an, on the other hand, must possess this ability because he exercises discretion in the use of tools anweapons, which he chooses according to particular re2uirements. If he wants to kill the fleet hare, he ta

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the bow and arrow if he meets the bear, he uses the axe, and if he wants to break open a certain fruit htakes a hammer. hen threatened by danger, man must consider whether he shall run away or defendhimself by fighting with weapons. This ability to think and to consider is indispensable to man in his useartificial tools.

This strong connection between thoughts, language, and tools, each of which is impossible without the othshows that they must have developed at the same time. 5ow this development took place, we can oncon ecture. "ndoubtedly it was a change in the circumstances of life that changed men from our apelikancestors. 5aving migrated from the woods, the original habitat of apes, to the plain, man had to undergo

entire change of life. The difference between hands and feet must have developed then. /ociability and thape-like hand, well adapted for grasping, had a due share in the new development. The first rough ob ecsuch as stones or sticks, came to hand unsought, and were thrown away. This must have been repeated often that it must have left an impression on the minds of those primitive men.

To the animal, surrounding nature is a single unit, of the details of which it is unconscious. It can ndistinguish between various ob ects. #ur primitive man, at his lowest stage, must have been at the same levof consciousness. 3rom the great mass surrounding him, some ob ects *tools+ come into his hands whichused in procuring his existence. These tools, being very important ob ects, soon were given somdesignation, were designated by a sound which at the same time named the particular activity. #wing to thsound, or designation, the tool and the particular kind of activity stands out from the rest of the surroundin!an begins to analy%e the world by concepts and names, self-consciousness makes its appearance, artificob ects are purposely sought and knowingly made use of while working.

This process ( for it is a very slow process ( marks the beginning of our becoming men. 1s soon as medeliberately seek and apply certain tools, we can say that these are being developed from this stage to manufacturing of tools, there is only one step. The first crude tools differ according to use from the shstone we get the knife, the bolt, the drill, and the spear from the stick we get the hatchet. ith the furthedifferentiation of tools, serving later for the division of labor, language and thought develop into richer anewer forms, while thought leads man to use the tools in a better way, to improve old and invent new ones

/o we see that one thing brings on the other. The practice of sociability and the application to labor are tsprings in which techni2ue, thought, tools and science have their origin and continually develop. By labor, the primitive ape-like man has risen to real manhood. The use of tools marks the great departure thaever more widening between men and animals.

%*$nimal +rgans and ,&man Tools

In animal organs and human tools we have the main difference between men and animals. The animobtains its food and subdues its enemies with its own bodily organs man does the same thing with the aidtools. #rgan *organon+ is a Greek word which also means tools. #rgans are natural, adnated *grown-tools of the animal. Tools are the artificial organs of men. Better still, what the organ is to the animal, thand and tool is to man. The hands and tools perform the functions that the animal must perform with own organs. #wing to the construction of the hand to hold various tools, it becomes a general organ adaptto all kinds of work it becomes therefore an organ that can perform a variety of functions.

ith the division of these functions, a broad field of development is opened for men which animals do noknow. Because the human hand can use various tools, it can combine the functions of all possible orga possessed by animals. Every animal is built and adapted to a certain definite surrounding. !an, with htools, is adapted to all circumstances and e2uipped for all surroundings. The horse is built for the prairie, athe monkey is built for the forest. In the forest, the horse would be ust as helpless as the monkey would b

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brought to the prairie. !an, on the other hand, uses the axe in the forest, and the spade on the prairie. ithhis tools, man can force his way in all parts of the world and establish himself all over. hile almost aanimals can live in particular regions, such as supply their wants, and if taken to different regions cannexist, man has con2uered the whole world. Every animal has, as a %oologist expressed it once, its strengtwhich means it maintains itself in the struggle for existence, and its weakness, owing to which it falls a pto others and cannot multiply itself. In this sense, man has only strength and no weakness. #wing to hhaving tools, man is the e2ual of all animals. 1s these tools do not remain stationary, but continualimprove, man grows above every animal. 5is tools make him master of all creation, the king of the earth.

In the animal world there is also a continuous development and perfection of organs. This developmehowever, is connected with the changes of the animal6s body, which makes the development of the orgainfinitely slow, as dictated by biological laws. In the development of the organic world, thousands of yeamount to nothing. !an, however, by transferring his organic development upon external ob ects has beeable to free himself from the chain of biologic law. Tools can be transformed 2uickly, and techni2ue maksuch rapid strides that, in comparison with the development of animal organs, it must be called marvelo#wing to this new road, man has been able, within the short period of a few thousand years, to rise above thighest animal. ith the invention of these implements, man got to be a divine power, and he takes possession of the earth as his exclusive dominion. The peaceful and hitherto unhindered development of organic world ceases to develop according to the arwinian theory. It is man that acts as breeder, tamercultivator and it is man that does the weeding. It is man that changes the entire environment, making further forms of plants and animals suit his aim and will.

ith the origin of tools, further changes in the human body cease. The human organs remain what theywere, with the exception of the brain. The human brain had to develop together with tools and, in fact, see that the difference between the higher and lower races of mankind consists mainly in the contents of th brains. But even the development of this organ had to stop at a certain stage. /ince the beginning ocivili%ation, the functions of the brain are ever more taken away by some artificial means sciencetreasured up in books. #ur reasoning faculty of today is not much better than the one possessed by thGreeks, <omans or even the Teutons, but our knowledge has grown immensely, and this is greatly due to tfact that the mental organ was unburdened by its substitutes, the books.

5aving learned the difference between men and animals, let us now again consider how they are affected the struggle for existence. That this struggle is the cause of perfection and the weeding out of the imperfecan not be denied. In this struggle the animals become ever more perfect. 5ere, however, it is necessary be more precise in expression and in observation of what perfection consists. In being so, we can no lonsay that animals as a whole struggle and become perfected. 1nimals struggle and compete by means of th particular organs. Hions do not carry on the struggle by means of their tails hares do not rely on their eynor do the falcons succeed by means of their beaks. Hions carry on the struggle by means of their saltat*leaping+ muscles and their teeth hares rely upon their paws and ears, and falcons succeed on accountheir eyes and wings. If now we ask what is it that struggles and what competes, the answer is, the orgastruggle. The muscles and teeth of the lion, the paws and ears of the hare, and the eyes and wings of t

falcon carry on the struggle. It is in this struggle that the organs become perfected. The animal as a whdepends upon these organs and shares their fate.

Het us now ask the same 2uestion about the human world. !en do not struggle by means of their naturorgans, but by means of artificial organs, by means of tools *and weapons we must understand as too5ere, too, the principle of perfection and the weeding out of the imperfect, through struggle, holds true. Ttools struggle, and this leads to the ever greater perfection of tools. Those groups of tribes that use bettools and weapons can best secure their maintenance, and when it comes to a direct struggle with anothrace, the race that is better e2uipped with artificial tools will win. Those races whose technical aids are bedeveloped, can drive out or subdue those whose artificial aids are not developed. The European radominates because its external aids are better.

5ere we see that the principle of the struggle for existence, formulated by arwin and emphasi%ed b/pencer, has a different effect on men than on animals. The principle that struggle leads to the perfection the weapons used in the strife, leads to different results between men and animals. In the animal, it leads t

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continuous development of natural organs that is the foundation of the theory of descent, the essencearwinism. In men, it leads to a continuous development of tools, of the means of production. Thi

however, is the foundation of !arxism. 5ere we see that !arxism and arwinism are not two independenttheories, each of which applies to its special domain, without having anything in common with the otherreality, the same principle underlies both theories. They form one unit. The new course taken by men, substitution of tools for natural organs, causes this fundamental principle to manifest itself differently in two domains that of the animal world to develop according to arwinians principle, while among mankinthe !arxian principle applies. hen men freed themselves from the animal world, the development of toolsand productive methods, the division of labor and knowledge became the propelling force in soci

development. It is these that brought about the various systems, such as primitive communism, the peassystem, the beginnings of commodity production, feudalism, and now modern capitalism, and which brus ever nearer to /ocialism.

*"apitalism and Socialism

The particular form that the arwinian struggle for existence assumes in development is determined bmen6s sociability and their use of tools. The struggle for existence, while it is still carried on amo

members of different groups, nevertheless ceases among members of the same group, and its place is tak by mutual aid and social feeling. In the struggle between groups, technical e2uipment decides who shallthe victor this results in the progress of techni2ue. These two circumstances lead to different effects undifferent systems. Het us see in what manner they work out under capitalism.

hen the bourgeoisie gained political power and made the capitalist system the dominating one, it began b breaking the feudal bonds and freeing the people from all feudal ties. It was essential for capitalism tevery one should be able to take part in the competitive struggle that no one6s movements be tied upnarrowed by corporate duties or hampered by legal statutes, for only thus was it possible for productiondevelop its full capacity. The workers must have free command over themselves and not be tied up by feuor guild duties, for only as free workers can they sell their labor-power to the capitalists as a whocommodity, and only as free laborers can the capitalists use them. It is for this reason that the bourgeoihas done away with all old ties and duties. It made the people entirely free, but at the same time left thentirely isolated and unprotected. 3ormerly the people were not isolated they belonged to some corporatithey were under the protection of some lord or commune, and in this they found strength. They were a pof a social group to which they owed duties and from which they received protection. These duties t bourgeoisie abolished it destroyed the corporations and abolished the feudal relations. The freeing of labmeant at the same time that all refuge was taken away from him and that he could no longer rely upothers.

Every one had to rely upon himself. 1lone, free from all ties and protection, he must struggle against all.

It is for this reason that, under capitalism, the human world resembles mostly the world of rapacious animand it is for this very reason that the bourgeois arwinists looked for men6s prototype among animals liviisolated. To this they were led by their own experience. Their mistake, however, consisted in considericapitalist conditions as everlasting. The relation existing between our capitalist competitive system aanimals living isolated, was thus expressed by Engels in his book, &1nti- uehring) *page 79>. This malso be found on page @> of &/ocialism, "topian and /cientific)+ as follows4

&3inally, modern industry and the opening of the world market made the struggle universal and at the same time git unheard-of virulence. 1dvantages in natural or artificial conditions of production now decide the existence or noexistence of individual capitalists as well as of whole industries and countries. 5e that falls is remorselessly cast asiIt is the arwinian struggle of the individual for existence transferred from 'ature to society with intensified violenceThe conditions of existence natural to the animal appear as the final term of human development.)

hat is that which carries on the struggle in this capitalist competition, the perfectness of which decides thvictory:

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3irst come technical tools, machines. 5ere again applies the law that struggle leads to perfection. Thmachine that is more improved outstrips the less improved, the machines that cannot perform much, and simple tools are exterminated and machine techni2ue develops with gigantic strides to ever grea productivity. This is the real application of arwinism to human society. The particular thing about it is thunder capitalism there is private property, and behind every machine there is a man. Behind the giganmachine there is a big capitalist and behind the small machine there is a small capitalist. ith the defeat othe small machine, the small capitalist, as capitalist, perishes with all his hopes and happiness. 1t the samtime the struggle is a race of capital. Harge capital is better e2uipped large capital is getting ever larger. Tconcentration of capital undermines capital itself, for it diminishes the bourgeoisie whose interest it is

maintain capitalism, and it increases that mass which seeks to abolish it. In this development, one of characteristics of capitalism is gradually abolished. In the world where each struggles against all and against each, a new association develops among the working class, the class organi%ation. The working corgani%ations start with ending the competition existing between workers and combine their separate powinto one great power in their struggle with the outside world. Everything that applies to social groups aapplies to this class organi%ation, brought about by natural conditions. In the ranks of this class organi%asocial motives, moral feelings, self-sacrifice and devotion for the entire body develop in a most splendway. This solid organi%ation gives to the working class that great strength which it needs in order to conthe capitalist class. The class struggle which is not a struggle with tools but for the possession of toolsstruggle for the right to direct industry, will be determined by the strength of the class organi%ation.

Het us now look at the future system of production as carried on under /ocialism. The struggle leading to perfection of the tools does not cease. 1s before under capitalism, the inferior machine will be outdistancand brushed aside by the one that is superior. 1s before, this process will lead to greater productivity labor. But private property having been abolished, there will no longer be a man behind each machicalling it his own and sharing its fate. !achines will be common property, and the displacement of the ledeveloped by the better developed machinery will be carried out upon careful consideration.

ith the abolition of classes the entire civili%ed world will become one great productive community. ithinthis community mutual struggle among members will cease and will be carried on with the outside worldwill no longer be a struggle against our own kind, but a struggle for subsistence, a struggle against natuBut owing to development of techni2ue and science, this can hardly be called a struggle. 'ature is sub ect man and with very little exertion from his side she supplies him with abundance. 5ere a new career opefor man4 man6s rising from the animal world and carrying on his struggle for existence by the use of toceases, and a new chapter of human history begins.

Anton Pannekoek


a!"ist T#eo!$ and Re%ol&tiona!$ Tactics

1' O&! Di((e!ences

3or several years past, profound tactical disagreement has been developing on a succession of issuamongst those who had previously shared common ground as !arxists and together fought agains<evisionism in the name of the radical tactic of class struggle. It first came into the open in 0>0 , in thdebate between 8autsky and Huxemburg over the mass strike then came the dissension over imperialisand the 2uestion of disarmament and finally, with the conflict over the electoral deal made by the ?arExecutive and the attitude to be adopted towards the liberals, the most important issues of parliament politics became the sub ect of dispute.

#ne may regret this fact, but no party loyalty can con ure it away we can only throwlight upon it, and thisis what the interest of the party demands. #n the one hand, the causes of the dissension must be identified,order to show that it is natural and necessary and on the other, the content of the two perspectives, the

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most basic principles and their most far-reaching implications, must be extracted from the formulationsthe two sides, so that party comrades can orientate themselves and choose between them this is on possible through theoretical discussion.

The source of the recent tactical disagreements is clear to see4 under the influence of the modern formcapitalism, new forms of action have developed in the labour movement, namely mass action. hen thefirst made their appearance, they were welcomed by all !arxists and hailed as a sign of revolutionardevelopment, a product of our revolutionary tactics. But as the practical potential of mass action developit began to pose new problems the 2uestion of social revolution, hitherto an unattainably distant ultim

goal, now became a live issue for the militant proletariat, and the tremendous difficulties involved becaclear to everyone, almost as a matter of personal experience. This gave rise to two trends of thought4 the took up the problem of revolution, and by analysing the effectiveness, significance and potential of the nforms of action, sought to grasp how the proletariat would be able to fulfil its mission the other, asshrinking before the magnitude of this prospect, groped among the older, parliamentary forms of actionsearch of tendencies which would for the time being make it possible to postpone tackling the task. The nmethods of the labour movement have given rise to an ideological split among those who previousadvocated radical !arxist party-tactics.

In these circumstances it is our duty as !arxists to clarify the differences as far as possible by means otheoretical discussion. This is why, in our article &!ass action and revolution), we outlined the process revolutionary development as a reversal of the relations of class power to provide a basic statement of o perspective, and attempted to clarify the differences between our views and those of 8autsky in a criti2uetwo articles by him. In his reply, 8autsky shifted the issue on to a different terrain4 instead of contesting validity of theoretical formulations, he accused us of wanting to force new tactics upon the party. In t

"eip#iger Volks#eitung of > /eptember, we showed that this turned the whole purpose of our argument on ithead.

e had attempted, insofar as it was possible, to clarify the distinctions between thethree tendencies, tworadical and one <evisionist, which now confront each other in the party. $omrade 8autsky seems to havmissed the point of this entire analysis, since he remarks testily4 &?annekoek sees my thinking as p<evisionism.)

hat we were arguing was on the contrary that 8autsky6s position is not <evisionist. 3or the very reasonthat many comrades mis udged 8autsky because they were preoccupied with the radical-<evisionidichotomy of previous debates, and wondered if he was gradually turning <evisionist for this very reasoit was necessary to speak out and grasp 8autsky6s practice in terms of the particular nature of his radi position. hereas <evisionism seeks to limit our activity to parliamentary and trade-union campaigns, to thachievement of reforms and improvements which will evolve naturally into socialism a perspective whicserves as the basis for reformist tactics aimed solely at short-term gains radicalism stresses theinevitability of the revolutionary struggle for the con2uest of power that lies before us, and therefore direits tactics towards raising class consciousness and increasing the power of the proletariat. It is over the nat

of this revolution that our views diverge. 1s far as 8autsky is concerned, it is an event in the future, political apocalypse, and all we have to do meanwhile is prepare for the final show-down by gathering strength and assembling and drilling our troops. In our view, revolution is a process , the first stages of whichwe are now experiencing, for it is only by the struggle for power itself that the masses can be assembldrilled and formed into an organisation capable of taking power. These different conceptions lead completely different evaluations of current practice and it is apparent that the <evisionists6 re ection of arevolutionary action and 8autsky6s postponement of it to the indefinite future are bound to unite themmany of the current issues over which they both oppose us.

This is not of course to say that these currents form distinct, conscious groups in the party4 to some exthey are no more than conflicting trends of thought. 'or does it mean a blurring of the distinction betwee

8autskian radicalism and <evisionism, merely a rapprochement which will nevertheless become more amore pronounced as the inner logic of development asserts itself, for radicalism that is real and yet passcannot but lose its mass base. 'ecessary as it was to keep to traditional methods of struggle in the periowhen the movement was first developing, the time was bound to come when the proletariat would aspire

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transform its heightened awareness of its own potential into the con2uest of decisive new positions strength. The mass actions in the struggle for suffrage in ?russia testify to this determination. <evisioniswas itself an expression of this aspiration to achieve positive results as the fruit of growing power adespite the disappointments and failures it has brought, it owes its influence primarily to the notions tradical party-tactics simply mean waiting passively without making definite gains and that !arxism isdoctrine of fatalism. The proletariat cannot rest from the struggle for fresh advances those who are n prepared to lead this struggle on a revolutionary course will, whatever their intentions, be inexorably pusfurther and further along the reformist path of pursuing positive gains by means of particular parliamenttactics and bargains with other parties.

2' )lass and asses

e argued that $omrade 8autsky had left his !arxist analytical tools at home in his analysis of action bythe masses, and that the inade2uacy of his method was apparent from the fact that he failed to come to adefinite conclusion. 8autsky replies4 &'ot at all. I came to the very definite conclusion that the unorganismasses in 2uestion were highly unpredictable in character.) 1nd he refers to the shifting sands of the deseas similarly unpredictable. ith all due respect to this illustration, we must nevertheless stand by ouargument. If, in analysing a phenomenon, you find that it takes on various forms and is entireunpredictable, that merely provesthat $ou ha%e not found the real basis determining it . If, after studying the position of the moon, for example, someone &came to the very definite conclusion) that it sometimes appin the north-east, sometimes in the south and sometimes in the west, in an entirely arbitrary aunpredictable fashion, then everyone would rightly say that this study was fruitless though it may ocourse be that the force at work cannot yet be identified. The investigator would only have deservcriticism if he had completely ignored the method of analysis which, as he perfectly well knew, was the oone which could produce results in that field.

This is how 8autsky treats action by the masses. 5e observes that the masses have acted in different wayhistorically, sometimes in a reactionary sense, sometimes in a revolutionary sense, sometimes remaini passive, and comes to the conclusion that one cannot build on this shifting, unpredictable foundation. Bwhat does !arxist theory tell us: That beyond the limits of individual variation, that is where the massesare concerned the actions of men are determined by their material situation, their interests and the perspectives arising from the latter and that these, making allowances for the weight of tradition, different for the different classes. If we are to comprehend the behaviour of the masses, then, we must maclear distinctions between the various classes4 the actions of a lumpenproletarian mass, a peasant mass anmodern proletarian mass will be entirely different. #f course 8autsky could come to no conclusion bthrowing them all together indiscriminately the cause of his failure to find a basis for prediction, howevlies not in the ob ect of his historical analysis, but in the inade2uacy of the methods he has used.

8autsky gives another reason for disregarding the class character of the masses of today4 as a combinationvarious classes, they have no class character4

&#n p. =@ of my article, I examined what elements might potentially be involved in action of this kind in Germany todafinding was that, disregarding children and the agricultural population, one would have to reckon with some thirty million peonly about a tenth of whom would be organised workers. The rest would be made up of unorganised workers, for the moststill infected with the thinking of the peasantry, the petty-bourgeoisie and the lumpenproletariat, together with a good mmembers of the latter two strata themselves.

Even after ?annekoek6s reproaches, I still do not see how a unified class character can be attributed to such motley masses.not that I Lleft my !arxism at home6, I never possessed such Lanalytic tools6. $omrade ?annekoek clearly thinks the essen!arxism consists in seeing a particular class, namely the class-conscious, industrial wage-proletariat, wherever masses ainvolved.)

8autsky is not doing himself ustice here. In order to legitimate a momentary lapse, he generalises it, a

without ustification. 5e claims that he has never possessed the !arxist &analytical tools) capable oidentifying the class character of these &motley masses) he says &unified), but what is at issue isobviously the predominant class character, the character of the class that makes up the ma ority and who perspectives and interests are decisive, as is the case today with the industrial proletariat. But he is do

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himself wrong for this same mass, made all the more motley by the addition of the rural population, ariin the context of parliamentary politics. 1nd all the writers of the /ocial- emocratic ?arty set out from the principle that the class struggle between bourgeoisie and proletariat forms the basic content of parliamentary politics, that the perspectives and interests of wage-labour govern all its policies and represthe perspectives and interests of the people as a whole. oes that which holds good for the masses in thfield of parliamentary politics suddenly cease to apply as soon as they turn to mass action:

#n the contrary, the proletarian class character comes out all the more clearly in mass action. here parliamentary politics are concerned, the whole country is involved, even the most isolated villages a

hamlets how densely the population is concentrated has no bearing. But it is mainly the masses presstogether in the big cities who engage in mass action and according to the most recent official statistics, t population of the =7 ma or cities of Germany is made up of [email protected] per cent self-employed, >.0 per cent cleemployees and @. per cent workers, disregarding the 7@ per cent to whom no precise occupation canattributed. If we also note that in 0> 0@ per cent of the German labour-force worked in small concerns, per cent in medium-scale concerns and @D per cent in large-scale and giant concerns, we see how firmlycharacter of the wage-labourer employed in large-scale industry is stamped upon the masses likely participate in mass action. If 8autsky can only see motley masses, it is firstly because he counts the wivesorganised workers as belonging to the twenty-seven million not organised, and secondly because he denthe proletarian class character of those workers who are not organised or who have still not shrugged bourgeois traditions. e therefore re-emphasise that what counts in the development of these actions, iwhich the deepest interests and passions of the masses break surface, is not membership of the organisatinor a traditional ideology, but to an ever-increasing extent the real class character of the masses.

It now becomes clear what relationship our methods bear each other. 8autsky denounces my method &over-simplified !arxism) I am once again asserting that his is neither over-simplified nor ovesophisticated, but not !arxist at all. 1ny science seeking to investigate an area of reality must start byidentifying the main factors and basic underlying forces in their simplest form this first simple image is tfilled out, improved and made more complex as further details, secondary causes and less direct influenare brought in to correct it, so that it approximates more and more closely to reality. Het us take as illustration 8autsky6s analysis of the great 3rench revolution. 5ere we find as a first approximation the clastruggle between the bourgeoisie and the feudal classes an outline of these main factors, the general validof which cannot be disputed, could be described as &over-simplified !arxism). In his pamphlet of 0CC8autsky analysed the sub-divisions within those classes, and was thus able to improve and deepen this fisimple sketch significantly. The 8autsky of 0>07, however, would maintain that there was no kind of unito the character of the motley masses which made up the contemporary Third Estate and that it would pointless to expect definite actions and results from it. This is how matters stand in this case except thathe situation is more complicated because the future is involved, and the classes of today have to try alocate the forces determining it. 1s a first approximation aimed at gaining an initial general perspective, must come down to the basic feature of the capitalist world, the struggle between bourgeoisie and proletarthe two principal classes we attempted to outline the process of revolution as a development of the powrelations between them. e are, of course, perfectly well aware that reality is much more complex, and thamany problems remain to be resolved before we comprehend it4 we must to some extent await the lesson practice in order to do so. The bourgeoisie is no more unified a class than the proletariat tradition sinfluences both of them and among the mass of the people there are also the lumpenproletarians, pet bourgeois, and clerical employees whose actions are inevitably determined by their particular clasituations. But since they only form admixtures insufficiently important to obscure the basic wag proletarian character of the masses, the above is merely a 2ualification which does not refute the initoutline, but rather elaborates it. The collaboration of various tendencies in the form of a debate is necessto master and clarify these issues. 'eed we say that we were counting on the author of theClass Conflicts of&'() to indicate the problems and difficulties still to be resolved in his criticisms of our initial sketch: Bthe 8autsky of 0>07 declares it beyond his competence to assist in this, the most important 2uestion facithe militant proletariat, that of identifying the forces which will shape its coming revolutionary struggle,

the grounds that he does not know how a &unified class character) can be attributed to &such motley masas the proletarian masses of today.

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*' T#e O!ganisation

In our article in the "eip#iger Volks#eitung , we maintained that 8autsky had without ustification taken ouremphasis on the essential importance of the spirit of organisation to mean that we consider the organisatitself unnecessary. hat we had said was that irrespective of all assaults upon the external forms ofassociation, the masses in which this spirit dwells will always regroup themselves in new organisations aif, in contrast to the view he expressed at the resden party congress in 0> 9, 8autsky now expects the stateto refrain from attacking the workers6 organisations, this optimism can only be based upon the spiritorganisation which he so scorns.

The spirit of organisation is in fact the active principle which alone endows the framework of organisatiwith life and energy. But this immortal soul cannot float ethereally in the kingdom of heaven like that$hristian theology it continually recreates an organisational form for itself, because it brings together tmen in whom it lives for the purpose of oint, organised action. This spirit is not something abstractimaginary by contrast with the prevailing form of association, the &concrete) organisation, but is *ust asconcrete and real as the latter. It binds the individual persons which make up the organisation more closeltogether than any rules or statutes can do, so that they no longer scatter as disparate atoms when the exter bond of rules and statutes is severed. If organisations are able to develop and take action as powerful, stabunited bodies, if neither oining battle nor breaking off the engagement, neither struggle nor defeat can cratheir solidarity, if all their members see it as the most natural thing in the world to put the common inter before their own individual interest, they do not do so because of the rights and obligations entailed in statutes, nor because of the magic power of the organisation6s funds or its democratic constitution4reason for all this lies in the proletariat6s sense of organisation, the profound transformation that its charahas undergone. hat 8autsky has to say about the powers which the organisation has at its disposal is alvery well4 the 2uality of the arms which the proletariat forges for itself gives it self-confidence and a sensits own capabilities, and there is no disagreement between us as to the need for the workers to e2uthemselves as well as possible with powerful centralised associations that have ade2uate funds at thdisposal. But the virtue of this machinery isdependent upon the readiness of the members to sacrificethemselves, upon their discipline within the organisation, upon their solidarity towards their comradesshort, upon the fact that they have become completely different persons from the old individualistic pet bourgeois and peasants. If 8autsky sees this new character, this spirit of organisation, as a product organisation, then in the first place there need be no conflict between this view and our own, and in tsecond place it is only half correct for this transformation of human nature in the proletariat is primarily effect of the conditions under which the workers live, trained as they are to act collectively by the sharexperience of exploitation in the same factory, and secondarily a product of class struggle , that is to saymilitant action on the part of the organisation it would be difficult to argue that such activities as electicommittees and counting subscriptions make much contribution in this respect.

It immediately becomes clear what constitutes the essence of proletarian organisation if we consider exacwhat distinguishes a trade union from a whist club, a society for the prevention of cruelty to animals oremployers6 association. 8autsky obviously does not do so, and sees no difference of principle between the

hence he puts the &yellow associations), which employers compel their workers to oin, on a par with organisations of the militant proletariat. 5e does not recognise the world-transforming significance of t proletarian organisation. 5e feels able to accuse us of disdain for the organisation4 in reality he values it less than we do. hat distinguishes the workers6 organisations from all others is the development osolidarity within them as the basis of their power, the total subordination of the individual to the communthe essence of a new humanity still in the process of formation. The proletarian organisation brings unitythe masses, previously fragmented and powerless, moulding them into an entity with a conscious purpand with power in its own right. It lays the foundations of a humanity which governs itself, decides its odestiny, and as the first step in that direction, throws off alien oppression. In it there grows up the onagency which can abolish the class hegemony of exploitation the development of the proletariorganisation in itself signifies the repudiation of all the functions of class rule it represents the self-crea

order of the people, and it will fight relentlessly to throw back and put an end to the brutal intervention adespotic attempts at repression which the ruling minority undertakes. It is within the proletarian organisatthat the new humanity grows, a humanity now developing into a coherent entity for the first time in history of the world production is developing into a unified world economy, and the sense of belongi

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but an inhibiting, retarding one. It will be revealed by practice what relationship these different forces btowards each other, in the decisions and acts by which the proletarian masses show what they deethemselves capable of.

+' T#e )on,&est o( Po-e!

3or a refutation of 8autsky6s extraordinary remarks on the role of the state and the con2uest of politi power and for discussion of his tendency to see anarchists everywhere, we must refer the reader to t "eip#iger Volks#eitung of 0 /eptember. 5ere we will add only a few comments to clarify our differences.

The 2uestion as toho, the proletariat gains the fundamental democratic rights which, once its socialistclass consciousness is sufficiently developed, endow it with political hegemony, is thebasic issueunderl$ing our tactics . e take the view that they can only be won from the ruling class in the course ofengagements in which the latter6s whole might takes the field against the proletariat and in whiconse2uently, this whole might is overcome. 1nother conception would be that the ruling class surrendethese rights voluntarily under the influence of universal democratic or ethical ideals and without recoursethe means of coercion at its disposal this would be the peaceful evolution towards the state of the futurenvisaged by the <evisionists. 8autsky re ects both these views4 what possible alternative is there: einferred from his statements that he conceived the con2uest of power as the destruction of the enemystrength once and for all, a single act 2ualitatively different from all the proletariat6s previous activity preparation for this revolution. /ince 8autsky re ects this reading and since it is desirable that his basconceptions regarding tactics should be clearly understood, we will proceed to 2uote the most import passages. In #ctober 0>0 , he wrote4

&In a situation like that obtaining in Germany, I can only conceive a political general strike as a uni2ue event in which the proletariat throughout the nation engages with all its might, as a life-and-death struggle, one in which our adversary is bedown or else all our organisations, all our strength shattered or at least paralysed for years to come.)

It is to be supposed that by beating down our adversary, 8autsky means the con2uest of political poweotherwise the uni2ue act would have to be repeated a second or third time. #f course, the campaign migalso prove insufficiently powerful, and in this case it would have failed, would have resulted in seriodefeat, and would therefore have to be begun over again. But if it succeeded, the final goal would have beattained. 'ow, however, 8autsky is denying that he ever said that the mass strike could be an event capablof bringing down capitalism at a stroke. 5ow, therefore, we are to take the above 2uotation I simply do nunderstand.

In 0>00, 8autsky wrote in his article &1ction by the masses) of the spontaneous actions of unorganiscrowds4

&If the mass action succeeds, however, if it is so dynamic and so tremendously widespread, the masses so aroused and determthe attack so sudden and the situation in which it catches our adversary so unfavourable to him that its effect is irresistible, themasses will be able to exploit this victory in a manner 2uite different from hitherto. MThere follows the reference to the wo

organisations.N here these organisations have taken root, the times are past when the proletariat6s victories in spontaneous mactions succeeded only in snatching the chestnuts from the fire for some particular section of its opponents which happened in opposition. 5enceforth, it will be able to en oy them itself.)

I can see no other possible interpretation of this passage than that as a result of a powerful spontaneouprising on the part of the unorganised masses triggered off by some particularly provocative even political power now falls into the hands of the proletariat itself, instead of into the hands of a bourgecli2ue as hitherto. 5ere too the possibility is envisaged of assaults initially failing and collapsing in defe before the attack finally succeeds. The protagonists in a political revolution of this kind and the methods twere using would put it completely outside the framework of the labour movement of today while the lawas carrying on its routine activity of education and organisation, revolution would break over it without

warning &as if from another world) under the influence of momentous events. Thus, we can see no otinterpretation that that put forward in our article. The crux of it is not that in this view revolution is a singlesharp act even if the con2uest of power consisted of several such acts *mass strikes and &street) actions+main point is the stark contrast between the current activity of the proletariat and the future revolution

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con2uest of power, which belongs to a completely different order of things. 8autsky now explicitly confirthis4

&In order to avoid any misunderstanding, I should like to point out that my polemic with $omrade Huxemburg dealt wit political general strike and my article on L1ction by the masses6 with street riots . I said of the latter that they could in certaincircumstances lead to political upheavals, but were unpredictable by nature and could not be instigated at will. I was not refeto simple street demonstrations ... .

I will repeat once again that my theory of Lpassive radicalism6, that is to say waiting for the appropriate occasion and mood athe masses, neither of which can be predicted in advance or hastened on by decision of the organisation, related only to street

and mass strikes aimed at securing a particular political decision and not to street demonstrations, nor to protest strikes. Tlatter can very well be called by party or trade union from time to time, irrespective of the mood of the masses outsideorganisation, but do not necessarily involve new tactics so long as they remain mere demonstrations.)

e will not dwell on the fact that a political mass strike only permissible as a once-and-for-all event in 0>0and therefore ruled out of the contemporary ?russian suffrage campaign now suddenly appears among tday-to-day actions which can be initiated at the drop of a hat as a &protest strike). e will merely point othat 8autsky is here making a sharp distinction between day-to-day actions, which are only demonstratioand can be called at will, and the unforeseeable revolutionary events of the future. 'ew rights maoccasionally be won in the day-to-day struggle these are in no sense steps towards the con2uest of powotherwise the ruling class would put up resistance to them which could only be overcome by political strik

Governments friendly to the workers may alternate with governments hostile to them, street demonstratiand mass strikes may play some part in the process, but for all that, nothing essential will change ostruggle remains &a political struggle against governments) restricting itself to &opposition) and leaving power of the state and its ministries intact. "ntil one day, when external events trigger off a massive popuuprising with street riots and political strikes that puts an end to this whole business.

It is only possible to maintain such a perspective by restricting one6s observation to external political foand ignoring the political reality behind them. 1nalysis of the balance of power between the classes conflict as one rises and the other declines is the only key to understanding revolutionary development. Ttranscends the sharp distinction between day-to-day action and revolution. The various forms of actimentioned by 8autskyare not polar opposites- but part of a graduall$ differentiated range , weak and

powerful forms of action within the same category. .irstl$- in terms of ho, the$ de%elop 4 evenstraightforward demonstrations cannot be called at will, but are only possible when strong feeling has bearoused by external causes, such as the rising cost of living and the danger of war today or the conditionssuffrage in ?russia in 0>0 . The stronger the feeling aroused, the more vigorously the protests can develohat 8autsky has to say about the most powerful form of mass strike, namely that we should &give it thmost energetic support and use it to strengthen the proletariat), does not go far enough for cases where tsituation has already generated a mass movement when conditions permit, the party, as the conscious beaof the exploited masses6 deepest sensibilities,must instigate such action as is necessar$ and take o%erleadership of the mo%ement / in other words, play the same role in events of ma or significance as it doestoday on a smaller scale. The precipitating factors cannot be foreseen, but it is we who act upon the!econdl$- in terms of those taking part 4 we cannot restrict our present demonstrations solely to partymembers although these at first form the nucleus, others will come to us in the course of the struggle. In last article we showed that the circle of those involved grows as the campaign develops, until it takes in broad masses of the people there is never any 2uestion of unruly street riots in the old sense.Thirdl$- interms of the effects such action has 4 the con2uest of power by means of the most potent forms of action basically amounts to li2uidating the powers of coercion available to the enemy and building up our ostrength but even today6s protests, our simple street demonstrations, display this effect on a small scahen the police had to abandon their attempts to prevent demonstrations in sheer impotence in 0>0 , thawas a first sign of the state6s coercive powers beginning to crumble away and the content of revolutconsists in the total destruction of these powers. In this sense, that instance of mass action can be seen as beginning of the German revolution.

The contrast between our respective views as set out here may at first sight appear to be purely theoretic but it nevertheless has great practical significance with respect to the tactics we adopt. 1s 8autsky sees each time the opportunity for vigorous action arises we must stop and consider whether it might not lead t

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&trial of strength), an attempt to make the revolution, that is, by mobilising the entire strength of adversary against us. 1nd because it is accepted that we are too weak to undertake this, it will be only toeasy to shrink from any action this was the burden of the debate on the mass strike in 0ie Neue 1eit in0>0 . Those who re ect 8autsky6s dichotomy between day-to-day action and revolution, however, asseevery action as an immediate issue, to be evaluated in terms of the prevailing conditions and the mood of masses, and at the same time, as part of a great purpose. In each campaign one presses as far ahead as see possible in the conditions obtaining, without allowing oneself to be hamstrung by specious theoreticonsiderations pro ected into the future for the issue is never one of total revolution, nor of a victory wsignificance only for the present, but always of a step further along the path of revolution.

.' Pa!liamenta!$ Acti%it$ and Action /$ t#e asses

!ass action is nothing new4 it is as old as parliamentary activity itself. Every class that has made use parliament has also on occasion resorted to mass action for it forms a necessary complement or bettestill a correcti%e to parliamentar$ action . /ince, in developed parliamentary systems, parliament itselfenacts legislation, including electoral legislation, a class or cli2ue which has once gained the upper hand ia position to secure its rule for all time, irrespective of all social development. But if its hegemony becomincompatible with a new stage of development, mass action, often in the form of a revolution or popuuprising, intervenes as a corrective influence, sweeps the ruling cli2ue away, imposes a new electoral law parliament, and thus reconciles parliament and society once again. !ass action can also occur when thmasses are in particularly dire straits, to impel parliament to alleviate their misery. 3ear of the conse2uenof the masses6 indignation often induces the class holding parliamentary power to make concessions whthe masses would not otherwise have obtained. hether or not the masses have spokesmen in parliament osuch occasions is far from immaterial, but is nevertheless of secondary importance the crucial determinforce lies outside.

e have now again entered a period when this corrective influence upon the working of parliament is mornecessary than ever the struggle for democratic suffrage on the one hand and the rising cost of living and danger of war on the other are kindling mass action. 8autsky likes to point out that there is nothing newthese forms of struggle he emphasises the similarity with earlier ones. e, however, stress the new elementwhich distinguish them from all that has gone before. The fact that the socialist proletariat of Germany begun to use these methods endows them with entirely new significance and implications, and it w precisely to clarifying these that my article was devoted. 3irstly, because the highly organised, clasconscious proletariat of which the German proletariat is the most developed example has a completedifferent class character from that of the popular masses hitherto, and its actions are therefore 2ualitativdifferent. /econdly, because this proletariat is destined to enact a far-reaching revolution, and the actiowhich it takes will therefore have a profoundly subversive effect on the whole of society, on the power of state and on the masses, even when it does not directly serve an electoral campaign.

8autsky is therefore not ustified in appealing to England as a model &in which we can best study the natof modern mass action). hat we are concerned with is mass political action aimed at securing new right

and thus giving parliamentary expression to the power of the proletariat4 in England it was a case of maction by the trade unions, a massive strike in furtherance of trade-union demands, which expressed tweakness of the old conservative trade-union methods by seeking assistance from the government. hat ware concerned with is a proletariat as politically mature, as deeply instilled with socialism as it is hereGermany the socialist awareness and political clarity necessary for such actions were completely lackiamong the masses on strike in England. #f course, the latter events also demonstrate that the labomovement cannot get by without mass action they too are a conse2uence of imperialism. But despite admirable solidarity and determination manifested in them, they had rather the character of desperoutbursts than the deliberate actions leading to the con2uest of power which only a proletariat deeply imbwith socialism can undertake.

1s we pointed out in the "eip#iger Volks#eitung , parliamentary activity and action by the masses are notincompatible with each other mass action in the struggle for suffrage endows parliamentary activity witnew, broader basis. 1nd in our first article we argued that the rising cost of living and the danger of wunder imperialism, the modern form of capitalism, are at the root of modern mass action. $omrade 8autsk

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&fails to see) how this results in &the necessity for new tactics) the necessity for mass action, in othwords for mass action aimed at &altering or exacting decisions by parliament) can no more do away with basic effects of capitalism the causes of the rise in the cost of living, for example, which lie in badharvests, gold production and the cartel system against which parliaments are powerless, than any otheform of political action. It is a pity that the ?arisians driven to revolt in 0C=C by the crisis and the rising of living did not know that they would certainly not have made the 3ebruary <evolution. ?erhaps $omra8autsky would see this as yet another demonstration of the incomprehension of the masses, whose instincdeaf to the urgings of reason. But if, spurred on by hunger and misery, the masses rise up together ademand relief despite the theoretician6s arguments that no form of political action can achieve anythin

the face of the fundamental evils of capitalism, then it is the masses6 instincts that are in the right andtheoretician6s science that is in the wrong. 3irstly, because the action can set itself immediate goals that not meaningless when sub ected to powerful pressure, governments and those in authority can do a grdeal to alleviate misery, even when this has deeper causes and cannot be altered merely by parliamentadecision as could duties and tariffs in Germany. /econdly, because the lasting effect of large-scale massaction is a more or less shattering blow to the hegemony of capital, and hence attacks the root of the evil.

8autsky constantly proceeds upon the assumption that so long as capitalism has not been transformed insocialism, it must be accepted as a fixed, unchangeable fact against the effects of which it is pointlessstruggle. uring the period when the proletariat is still weak it is true that a particular manifestation capitalism such as war, the rising cost of living, unemployment -cannot be done away with so long as threst of the system continues to function in all its power. But this is not true for the period of capitaldecline, in which the now mighty proletariat, itself an elemental force of capitalism, throws its own will strength into the balance of elemental forces. If this view of the transition from capitalism to socialism see&very obscure and mysterious) to $omrade 8autsky which only means that it is new to him then thisis only because he regards capitalism and socialism as fixed, ready-made entities, and fails to grasp ttransition from one to the other as a dialectical process. Each assault by the proletariat upon the individeffects of capitalism means a weakening of the power of capital, a strengthening of our own power andstep further in the process of revolution.

' a!"ism and t#e Role o( t#e Pa!t$

In conclusion, a few more words on theory. These are necessary because 8autsky hints from time to timthat our work takes leave of the materialist conception of history, the basis of !arxism. In one place hdescribes our conception of the nature of organisation as spiritualism ill befitting a materialist. #n anothoccasion he takes our view that the proletariat must develop its power and freedom &in constant attack advance), in a class struggle escalating from one engagement to another, to mean that the party executiveto &instigate)the re%olution.

!arxism explains all the historical and political actions of men in terms of their material relations, and particular their economic relations. 1 recurrent bourgeois misconception accuses us of ignoring the role the human mind in this, and making man a dead instrument, a puppet of economic forces. e insist in tur

that !arxism does not eliminate the mind. Everything which motivates the actions of men does so througthe mind. Their actions are determined by their will, and by all the ideals, principles and motives that existhe mind. But !arxism maintains that the content of the human mind is nothing other than a product of thmaterial world in which man lives, and that economic relations therefore only determine his actions by theffects upon his mind and influence upon his will. /ocial revolution only succeeds the development capitalism because the economic upheaval first transforms the mind of the proletariat, endowing it witnew content and directing the will in this sense. Aust as /ocial- emocratic activity is the expression of a ne perspective and new determination instilling themselves in the mind of the proletariat, so organisation isexpression and conse2uence of a profound mental transformation in the proletariat. This mentransformation is the term of mediation by which economic development leads to the act of social revolutiThere can surely be no disagreement between 8autsky and ourselves that this is the role which !arxismattributes to the mind.1nd yet even in this connection our views differ not in the sphere of abstract, theoretical formulation, butour practical emphasis. It is only when taken together that the two statements &The actions of men

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entirely determined by their material relations) and &!en must make their history themselves through thown actions) constitute the !arxist view as a whole. The first rules out the arbitrary notion that a revolutiocan be made at will the second eliminates the fatalism that would have us simply wait until the revoluthappens of its own accord through some perfect fruition of development. hile both maxims are correct itheoretical terms, they necessarily receive different degrees of emphasis in the course of historicdevelopment. hen the party is first flourishing and must before all else organise the proletariat, seeing itown development as the primary aim of its activity, the truth embodied in the first maxim gives it t patience for the slow process of construction, the sense that the time of premature putsches is past and calm certainty of eventual victory. !arxism takes on a predominantly historico-economic character in th

period it is the theory that all history is economically determined, and drums into us the realisation that must wait for conditions to mature. But the more the proletariat organises itself into a mass movemcapable of forceful intervention in social life, the more it is bound to develop a sense of the second maxThe awareness now grows that the point is not simply to interpret the world, but to change it. !arxism no becomes thetheor$ of proletarian action . The 2uestions of how precisely the proletariat6s spirit and willdevelop under the influence of social conditions and how the various influences shape it now come into foreground interest in the philosophical side of !arxism and in the nature of the mind now comes to lifTwo !arxists influenced by these different stages will therefore express themselves differently, the on primarily emphasising the determinate nature of the mind, the other its active role they will both lead threspective truths into battle against each other, although they both pay homage to the same !arxian theory.

3rom the practical point of view, however, this disagreement takes on another light. e entirely agree with8autsky that an individual or group cannot make the revolution. E2ually, 8autsky will agree with us that th proletariat must make the revolution. But how do matters stand with the party, which is a middle term,the one hand a large group which consciously decides what action it will take, and on the other trepresentative and leader of the entire proletariat:What is the function of the part$2

ith respect to revolution, 8autsky puts it as follows in his exposition of his tactics4 &"tilisation of th political general strike, but only in occasional, extreme instances when the masses can no longer restrained.) Thus, the party is to hold back the masses for as long as they can be held back so long as it isany way possible, it should regard its function as to keep the masses placid, to restrain them from takiaction only when this is no longer possible, when popular indignation is threatening to burst all constradoes it open the flood-gates and if possible put itself at the head of the masses. The roles are thus distribuin such a way that all the energy, all the initiative in which revolution has its origins must come from tmasses, while the party6s function is to hold this activity back, inhibit it, contain it for as long as possiBut the relationship cannot be conceived in this way. $ertainly, all the energy comes from the masses, whorevolutionary potential is aroused by oppression, misery and anarchy, and who by their revolt must thabolish the hegemony of capital. But the party has taught them that desperate outbursts on the partindividuals or individual groups are pointless, and that success can only be achieved through collectivunited, organised action. It has disciplined the masses and restrained them from frittering away threvolutionary activity fruitlessly. But this, of course, is only the one, negative side of the party6s functionmust simultaneously show in positive terms how these energies can be set to work in a different, productmanner, and lead the way in doing so. The masses have, so to speak, made over part of their energy, threvolutionary purpose, to the organised collectivity, not so that it shall be dissipated, but so that the party c put it to use as their collective will.The initiati%e and potential for spontaneous action ,hich the masses surrender b$ doing so is not in fact lost- but re3appears else,here and in another form as the part$4sinitiati%e and potential for spontaneous action5 a transformation of energy takes place, as it were. Evenwhen the fiercest indignation flares up among the masses over the rising cost of living, for example they remain calm, for they rely upon the party calling upon them to act in such a way that their energy w be utilised in the most appropriate and most successful manner possible.

The relationship between masses and party cannot therefore be as 8autsky has presented it. If the party saits function as restraining the masses from action for as long as it could do so, then party discipline wo

mean a loss to the masses of their initiative and potential for spontaneous action, areal loss, and not atransformation of energy.The e6istence of the part$ ,ould then reduce the re%olutionar$ capacit$ of the proletariat rather than increase it7 It cannot simply sit down and wait until the masses rise up spontaneouslyin spite of having entrusted it with part of their autonomy the discipline and confidence in the par

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leadership which keep the masses calm place it under an obligation to intervene actively and itself give masses the call for action at the right moment. Thus, as we have already argued, the party actually has a dto instigate revolutionary action, because it is the bearer of an important part of the masses6 capacity faction but itcannot do so as and ,hen it pleases , for it has not assimilated the entire will of the entire proletariat, and cannot therefore order it about like a troop of soldiers. It must wait for the right moment4until the masses will wait no longer and are rising up of their own accord, but until the conditions arousuch feeling in the masses that large-scale action by the masses has a chance of success. This is the waywhich the !arxist doctrine is realised that although men are determined and impelled by economidevelopment, they make their own history. The revolutionary potential of the indignation aroused in t

masses by the intolerable nature of capitalism must not go untapped and hence be lost nor must it frittered away in unorganised outbursts, but made fit for organised use in action instigated by the party wthe ob ective of weakening the hegemony of capital. It is in these revolutionary tactics that !arxist theorwill become reality.

Anton Pannekoek

"lass Str&ggle and ation- -/

Source: :Published: In <eichenberg, 0>07, under the title J8lassenkampf und 'ationJ.Transcriber: $ollective 1ction 'otes *$1'+HTML: Aonas 5olmgren

Introduction

'ot being 1ustrian, perhaps I should apologi%e for writing on the national 2uestion. If it were a pure1ustrian issue, anyone who is not intimately ac2uainted with the practical situation and who is not obliged be ac2uainted with it through everyday practice would not get involved in examining it. But this 2uestioac2uiring increasing importance for other countries as well. 1nd thanks to the writings of the 1ustriatheoreticians, and especially to #tto BauerOs valuable work,The 8uestion of Nationalities and !ocial

0emocrac$ M0N, it is no longer an exclusive preserve of 1ustrian practice and has become a 2uestion ogeneral socialist theory. $urrently, this 2uestion, the way it has been addressed and its implications cann

but arouse lively interest in every socialist who considers theory to be the guiding thread of our practicethe present time one can also make udgments and engage in criticism outside the realm of specifica1ustrian conditions. /ince we shall have to combat certain of BauerOs conclusions in the following pages,shall say in advance that this by no means diminishes the value of his work its importance does not residhaving established definitive and irrefutable results in this domain, but in laying the groundwork for furtdebate and discussion on this 2uestion.

This discussion seems to be especially timely at this uncture. The separatist crisis puts the national 2ueston the agenda in the party and obliges us to re-examine these 2uestions, and to sub ect our point of viewthorough scrutiny. 1nd maybe a debate concerning theoretical basics would not be totally useless here withis study we hope to make our contribution in this debate to our 1ustrian comrades. The fact that comra/trasser, in his studyWorker and Nation , has arrived at the same conclusions as we have, by a completelydifferent route, on the basis of 1ustrian conditions *guided of course by the same basic !arxist conceptionhas played a determinant role in the decision to publish this pamphlet. #ur labors may therefore complemone another in regard to this 2uestion.

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I. The Nation and its Transformations

The 0o&rgeois "onception and the Socialist"onception

/ocialism is a new scientific conception of the human world which is fundamentally distinct from a bourgeois conceptions. The bourgeois manner of representing things considers the different formations ainstitutions of the human world either as products of nature, praising or condemning them dependingwhether or not they contradict or conform to Jeternal human natureJ, or as products of chance or arbitrahuman decisions which can be altered at will by means of artificial violence. /ocial democracy, on the othhand, considers the same phenomena to be naturally-arising products of the development of human sociehile nature undergoes practically no change the genesis of animal species and their differentiation took

place over very long periods human society is sub ect to constant and fast-paced development. This i because its basis, labor for survival, has constantly had to assume new forms as its tools have been perfecteconomic life is thrown into turmoil and this gives rise to new ways of seeing and new ideas, new laws, a

new political institutions. It is therefore in relation to this point that the opposition between the bourgeand socialist conceptions resides4 for the former, a naturally immutable character and at the same time, arbitrary for the latter, an incessant process of becoming and transformation in accordance with lawestablished via the economy, upon the basis of labor.

This also applies to the nation. The bourgeois conception sees in the diversity of nations natural differenamong men nations are groupings constituted by the community of race, of origin, and of language. Buthe same time it also believes that it can, by means of coercive political measures, oppress nations in o place, and extend its domain at the expense of other nations somewhere else. /ocial democracy considenations to be human groups which have formed units as a conse2uence of their shared history. 5istoricdevelopment has produced nations within its limits and in its own way it also produces change in tmeaning and essence of the nation in general with the passage of time and changing economic conditionsis only on the basis of economic conditions that one can understand the history and development of tnation and the national principle.

3rom the socialist point of view, it is #tto Bauer who has supplied, in his workThe 8uestion of Nationalities and !ocial 0emocrac$ , the most profound analysis his exposition constitutes the indispensable point of departure for the further examination and discussion of the national 2uestion. In this work, socialist point of view is formulated as follows4 JThe nation is thus no longer for us a fixed thing, bu process of becoming, determined in its essence by the conditions under which the people struggle for thlivelihood and for the preservation of their kindJ *p. 0 +. 1nd a little further on4 Jthematerialist conceptionof histor$ can comprehend the nation as the never-completed product of a constantly occurring process, thultimate driving force of which is constituted by the conditions governing the struggle of humans wnature, the transformation of the human forces of production, and the changes in the relations governihuman labor. This conception renders the nation as the historical within usJ *p. 0 C+. 'ational characterJsolidified historyJ.

The ation as "omm&nit( of 1ateBauer most correctly defines the nation as Jthe totalit$ of human beings bound together b$ a communit$ of

fate into a communit$ of character J *p.00 +. This formula has fre2uently but mistakenly been attacked, sincit is perfectly correct. The misunderstanding resides in the fact that similarity and community are alwaconfused. $ommunity of fate does not mean submission to an identical fate, but the shared experience o

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single fate undergoing constant changes, in a continuous reciprocity. The peasants of $hina, India and Egyresemble one another in the similarity of their economic conditions they have the same class character there is not a trace of community between them. The petit-bourgeois, the shop-keepers, the workers, noble landowners, and the peasants of England, however, although they display many differences character due to their different class positions, nonetheless still constitute a community a history livedcommon, the reciprocal influence they exercise upon one another, albeit in the form of struggles, all of ttaking place through the medium of a common language, makes them a community of character, a nation.the same time, the mental content of this community, its common culture, is transmitted from generationgeneration thanks to the written word.

This is by no means meant to imply that all characters within a nation are similar. To the contrary, there c be great differences of character within a nation, depending on oneOs class or place of residence. The Ger peasant and the German industrialist, the Bavarian and the #ldenburger, display manifest differences character they nonetheless still form part of the German nation. 'or does this imply that there are ncommunities of character other than nations. e are not, of course, referring to special organi%ations, limitin time, such as oint-stock companies or trade unions. Bute%er$ human organi#ation ,hich comprises anenduring unit$ , inherited from generation to generation , constitutes a communit$ of character engenderedb$ a communit$ of fate .

The religious communities offer another example. They are also Jsolidified historyJ. They are not ugroups of people who share the same religion and who come together for a religious purpose. This is becathey are, so to speak, born in their churches and rarely pass from one church to another. In principlhowever, the religious community includes all those who are connected socially in one way or another origin, their village or their class the community of interests and conditions of existence simultaneoucreated a community of basic mental representations which assumed a religious form. It also created t bond of reciprocal duties, of loyalty and protection, between the organi%ation and its members. community of religion was the expression of social belonging in primitive tribal communities and in $hurch of the !iddle 1ges. The religious communities born during the <eformation, the ?rotestant$hurches and sects, were organi%ations of class struggle against the dominant $hurch, and against eaother they thus correspond to a certain extent to our contemporary political parties. 1s a result, the differereligious faiths expressed living, real, deeply-felt interests one could convert from one religion to anothemuch the same way that one can 2uit one party and oin another in our time. Hater, these organi%ati petrified into communities of faith in which only the top stratum, the clergy, maintained relations withinown ambit which set it above the entire $hurch. The community of interests disappeared within ea$hurch, there arose, with social development, numerous classes and class contradictions. The religioorgani%ation became more and more an empty shell, and the profession of faith, an abstract formula lackany social content. It was replaced by other organi%ations which were living associations of interests. 5ethe religious community constitutes a grouping whose community of fate increasingly belongs to the pand is progressively dissolving. 9eligion , too , is a precipitate of ,hat is historical in us .

The nation, then, is notthe onl$ community of character which has arisen from a community of fate, but

only one of its forms, and sometimes it is hard to distinguish it from the others without ambiguity. It woserve no purpose to attempt to discover which human units of organi%ation could be defined as natioespecially in ancient times. ?rimitive tribal units, great or small, were communities of character and of fin which characteristics, customs, culture and language were passed on from generation to generation. Tsame is true of the village communes or the peasant regions of the !iddle 1ges. #tto Bauer discovers in th!iddle 1ges, in the era of the 5ohenstauffens, the JGerman nationJ in the political and cultural communityof the German nobility. #n the other hand, the medieval $hurch possessed numerous traits which made itkind of nation it was the community of the European peoples, with a common history and common menrepresentations, and they even had a common language, the Hatin of the $hurch, which allowed educat people to mutually influence one another, the dominant intellectual force of all of Europe, and united thema community of culture. #nly in the last years of the !iddle 1ges did nations in the modern sense of the

term slowly arise, each with its own national language, national unity and culture.1 common language is, insofar as it forms a living bond between men,the most important attribute of thenation but this does not *ustif$ identif$ing nations ,ith human groups speaking the same language . The

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English and the 1mericans are, despite the fact that they speak the same language, two nations with differhistories, two different communities of fate which present strikingly divergent national characteristics. Ialso incorrect to reckon the German /wiss as part of a common German nation which would embrace German-speaking peoples. 'o matter how many cultural elements have been allowed to be exchange between them by means of an identical written language, fate has separated the /wiss and the Germans fseveral centuries. The fact that the former are free citi%ens of a democratic republic and the latter have lsuccessively under the tyranny of petty princes, foreign rule, and the weight of the new German police sthad to confer upon each group, even if they read the same authors, a very different character and one cannspeak of a community of fate and of character in this case. The political aspect is yet more evident amo

the utch the rapid economic development of the maritime provinces, which surrounded themselves on thlandward side with a wall of dependent provinces, and then became a powerful mercantile /tate, a politicentity, made How German a separate modern written language, but only for a small segment separated frthe mass of those who spoke How German all the others have been excluded from this language by politi barriers and have adopted, as residents of Germany who have been sub ect to a common history, the 5iGerman written language and culture. If the 1ustrian Germans continue to emphasi%e their German 2ualidespite their long history of separate development and the fact that they have not shared in the moimportant of the most recent historical experiences of the Germans of the Empire, this is essentially duetheir embattled position in relation to 1ustriaOs other nationalities.

The Peasant ation and the Modern ationThe peasants have often been described as being stalwart guardians of nationality. #tto Bauer, however, alcalls them the tenants of the nation who do not participate in national culture. This contradiction starreveals that what is JnationalJ in the peasantry is a very different thing than what constitutes the modnation. !odern nationality does of course descend from peasant nationality but differs from it in fundamental way.

In the ancient natural economy of the peasants, the economic unit was reduced to its smallest scale t

operative interest did not extend beyond the borders of the village or the valley. Each district constitutecommunity which barely maintained relations with its nearest neighbors, a community that had its owhistory, its own customs, its own dialect and its own character. /ome of them were connected by ties kinship with the villages of neighboring districts, but they did not have much influence on one another. T peasant clings powerfully to the specificity of his community. To the extent that his economy has nothingdo with the outside world, to the extent that his seeds and his crops are only in exceptional cases affectedthe vicissitudes of political events, all the influences of the outside world pass over him without a trace. is in any case unconcerned and remains passive such events do not penetrate his innermost being. The othing which can modify manOs nature is that which he actively grasps, which obliges him to transfhimself and in which he participates out of self-interest. This is why the peasant preserves his particulariagainst all the influences of the outside world and remains Jwithout historyJ as long as his economy is sesufficient. 3rom the moment that he is dragged into the gears of capitalism and established in othconditions he becomes bourgeois or a worker, the peasant begins to depend on the world market andmakes contact with the rest of the world from the moment that he has new interests, the indestructiblcharacter of his old particularism is lost. 5e is integrated into the modern nation he becomes a member omuch more extensive community of fate, a nation in the modern sense.

The peasantry is often spoken of as if the preceding generations already belonged to the same nation as thdescendants under capitalism. The term Jnations without historyJ implies a concept according to which $%echs, /lovenes, ?oles, "krainians and <ussians have always been so many different and particular nation but that somehow they have long remained dormant as such. In fact, one cannot speak of the /lovenes, fexample, except as a certain number of groups and districts with related dialects, without these groups ehaving constituted a real unity or a community. hat the name faithfully conveys is the fact that, as general rule, dialect decides which nations are to be claimed by the descendants of its original speakersthe final analysis, however, it is the real developments which decide whether the /lovenes and the /erbs, o

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the <ussians and the "krainians, must become one national community with one written language and ocommon culture, or two separate nations. It is not language which is decisive but the political-econom process of development. By identifying language as the decisive factor one could ust as well say that peasantry of Hower /axony is the faithful guardian of German nationality, and also of utch nationalitydepending on which side of the border it inhabits it only preserves its own village or provincial particularit would be ust as foolish to say that the peasant of the 1rdennes tenaciously preserves a Belgian, alloonor 3rench nationality when he clings to the dialect and the customs of his valley, or to say that a $arinthi peasant of the precapitalist era belonged to the /lovene nation. The /lovene nationonl$ made itsappearance with the modern bourgeois classes which formed a specific nation, and the peasant would n

willingly have become a part of it unless he was linked to that community by real self-interest.!odern nations are integral products of bourgeois society they appeared with commodity production, this, with capitalism, and its agents are the bourgeois classes. Bourgeois production and circulation commodities need vast economic units, large territories whose inhabitants are united in a community witunified /tate administration. 1s capitalism develops it incessantly reinforces the central /tate power th/tate becomes more cohesive and is sharply defined in relation to other /tates. The /tate is the combaorgani%ation of the bourgeoisie. Insofar as the bourgeois economy rests upon competition, in the strugagainst others of the same kind, the organi%ations which are formed by the bourgeoisie must necessafight among themselves the more powerful the /tate, the greater the benefits to which its bourgeoisie aspiHanguage has not been a crucial factor except in the effort to draw the boundaries of these /tates regiowith related dialects have been forced into political mergers where other factors do not intervene, becau political unity, the new community of fate, re2uires a single language as a means of intercourse. The writlanguage used for general concourse is created from one of these dialects it is thus, in a sense, anartificialcreation. /o #tto Bauer is right when he says4 JI create a common language together with those individuawith whom I most closely interact and I interact most closely with those individuals with whom I sharcommon languageJ *p. 0 0+. This is how those nation /tates which are both /tate and nation arose.M7N Theydid not become political entities simply because they already constituted national communities it was thnew economic interests and economic necessity which was the basis of menOs oining together into such sgroupings but whether these /tates or others emerged if, for example, southern Germany and northern3rance did not together form a political entity but this was instead the case with southern and northeGermany is due principally to the ancient kinship of dialect.

The spread of the nation /tate, and its capitalist evolution, have brought about a situation where an extremdiversity of classes and populations coexist within it this is why it sometimes seems dubious to define nation /tate as a community of fate and of character, because classes and populations do not act directupon one another. But the community of fate of the German peasants and big capitalists, of the Bavariaand the people of #ldenburg, consists in the fact that all are members of the German Empire, within who borders they wage their economic and political struggles, within which they endure the same policies, whthey must take a position regarding the same laws and thus have an effect upon one another this is why thconstitute a real community despite all the diversity of this community.

The same is not true of those /tates which emerged as dynastic entities under absolutism, without the direcollaboration of their bourgeois classes, and which conse2uently, through con2uest, came to inclu populations speaking many different languages. hen the penetration of capitalism begins to make headwain one of these /tates, various nations arise within the same /tate, which becomes a multinational /tate, lik1ustria. The cause of the appearance of new nations alongside the old resides once again in the fact thcompetition is the basis for the e6istence of the bourgeois classes . hen the modern classes arose from a purely peasant population group, when large masses were installed in the cities as industrial workers, soon be followed by small merchants, intellectuals and factory owners, the latter were then compelled undertake efforts on their own behalf to secure the business of these masses who all spoke the samlanguage, placing the accent on their nationality. The nation, as a cohesive community, constitutes for thoelements that form part of it a market, a customer base, a domain of exploitation where they have

advantage over their competitors from other nations. To form a community with modern classes, they melaborate a common written language which is necessary as a means of communication and becomes tlanguage of culture and of literature. The permanent contact between the classes of bourgeois society a/tate power, which had hitherto only known German as the official language of communication, oblig

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them to fight for the recognition of their languages, their schools and their administrative apparatuses,which fight the class having the most material interest is the national intelligentsia. /ince the /tate murepresent the interests of the bourgeoisie and must give it material support, each national bourgeoisie msecure as much influence over the /tate as possible. To win this influence it must fight against th bourgeoisie of other nations the more successfully it rallies the whole nation around it in this struggle, more power it exercises. 1s long as the leading role of the bourgeoisie is based upon the essence of theconomy and is acknowledged as something which is self-evident, the bourgeoisie can count on the othclasses which feel bound to it on this point by an identity of interests.

In this respect as well the nation is utterly a product of capitalist development, and is even a necessa product. herever capitalism penetrates, it must necessarily appear as the community of fate of th bourgeois classes. The national struggles within such a /tate are not the conse2uence of any kind oppression, or of legal backwardness, it is the natural expression of competition as the basic preconditionthe bourgeois economy the *bourgeois+ struggle of each against all is the indispensable precondition forabrupt separation of the various nations from one another.

Tradition and the ,&man MindIn man, nationality is indeed part of his nature, but primarily of his mental nature. Inherited physical traeventually allow the various peoples to be distinguished from one another, but this does not serve to separthem, nor, even less so, does it make them enter into conflict with one another. ?eoples distinguisthemselves as communities of culture, a culture transmitted by a common language in a nationOs cultwhich can be defined as mental in nature, is inscribed the whole history of its life. 'ational character is nocomposed of physical traits, but of the totality of its customs, its concepts and its forms of thought over tiIf one wishes to grasp the essence of a nation, it is above all necessary to get a clear view of how manmental aspect is constituted under the influence of his living conditions.

Every move that man makes must first pass through his head. The direct motor force of all his actio

resides in his mind. It can consist of habits, drives and unconscious instincts which are the expressionsalways similar repetitions of the same vital necessities in the same external living conditions. It could aenter into manOs consciousness as thoughts, ideas, motivations or principles. here do they come from5ere, the bourgeois conception sees the influence of a higher supernatural world which penetrates us, texpression of an eternal moral principle within us, or else the spontaneous products of the mind itse!arxist theory, however, historical materialism, explains thate%er$thing ,hich is mental in man is the

product of the material ,orld around him . This entire real world penetrates every part of the mind throughthe sensory organs and leaves its mark4 our vital needs, our experience, everything we see and hear, twhich others communicate to us as their thought appears as if we had actually observed it ourselves.M9N $onse2uently, any influence from an unreal, merely postulated supernatural world is excluded. Everythiin the mind has come from the external world which we designate with the name of the material worwhich is not meant to imply that material constituted of physical matter which can be measured, beverything which really exists, including thought. But in this context mind does not play the role whichsometimes attributed to it by a narrow mechanistic conception, that of a passive mirror that reflects texternal world, an inanimate receiver that absorbs and preserves everything thrown at it. :ind is acti%e , itacts , and it modifies e%er$thing that penetrates it from the outside in order to make something ne, . 1nd itwas iet%gen who has most clearly demonstrated how it does so. The external world flows before the mlike an endless river, always changing the mind registers its influences, it merges them, it adds them to wit had previously possessed and combines these elements. 3rom the river of infinitely varied phenomenaforms solid and consistent concepts in which the reality in motion is somehow fro%en and fixed and losefugitive aspect. The concept of JfishJ involves a multitude of observations of animals that swim, thatJgoodJ innumerable stances in relation to different actions, that of JcapitalismJ a whole lifetime fre2uently very painful experiences. Every thought, every conviction, every idea, every conclusion, such for example, the generali%ation that trees do not have leaves in the winter, that work is hard adisagreeable, that whoever gives me a ob is my benefactor, that the capitalist is my enemy, that there

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strength in organi%ation, that it is good to fight for oneOs nation, are the summaries of part of the living wof a multiform experience in a concise, abrupt and, one could say, rigid and lifeless formula. The greater athe more complete the experience which serves as documentation, the more deep-rooted and solid tthought and conviction, the more true it is. But all experience is limited, the world is constantly changinew experiences are ceaselessly being added to the old, they are integrated into the old ideas or enter icontradiction with them. This is why man has to restructure his ideas and abandon some of them as mistak such as that of the capitalist benefactor and confer a new meaning to certain concepts such as theconcept of JfishJ, from which the whales had to be separated and create new concepts for new phenomen like that of imperialism and find other causal relations for some concepts the intolerable character of

labor is a result of capitalism and evaluate them in a different manner the national struggle is harmful tothe workers in short, man must ceaselessly begin all over again. 1ll of his mental activity and developmenconsists in the endless restructuring of concepts, ideas, udgments and principles in order to keep themconsistent as possible with his ever-richer experience of reality. This takes place consciously in tdevelopment of science.

The meanings of BauerOs definitions of the nation as that which is historical in us, and of national charas solidified history, are thus placed in their proper context. 1 common material reality produces a commway of thinking in the minds of the members of a community. The specific nature of the economorgani%ation they ointly compose determines their thoughts, their customs and their concepts it produccoherent system of ideas in them,an ideolog$ which they share and which forms part of their material livingconditions. Hife in common has penetrated their minds common struggles for freedom against foreenemies, common class struggles at home. It is narrated in history books and is transmitted to the youthnational memory. hat was desired, hoped for and wanted was clearly highlighted and expressed by the poets and thinkers and these thoughts of the nation, the mental sediment of their material experience, w preserved in the form of literature for future generations. $onstant mutual intellectual influence consolidaand reinforces this process extracting from the thought of each compatriot what they all have in commwhat is essential and characteristic of the whole, that is, what is national, constitutes the cultural patrimoof the nation. hat lives in the mind of a nation, its national culture, is the abstract synthesis of its commoexperience, its material existence as an economic organi%ation.

Therefore, all of manOs mental 2ualities are products of reality, but not only ofcurrent reality the whole pastalso subsists there in a stronger or weaker form. !ind is slow in relation to matter it ceaselessly absorbexternal influences while its old existence slowly sinks into HetheOs waters of oblivion.Thus , the adaptationof the content of the mind to a constantl$ rene,ed realit$ is onl$ incremental . ?ast and present bothdetermine its content, but in different ways. The living reality which is constantly exercising its influencethe mind is embedded within it and impressed upon it in an increasingly more effective manner. But thwhich no longer feeds off of the present reality, no longer lives except in the past and can still be preservfor a long time, above all by the relations men maintain among themselves, by indoctrination and artific propaganda, but to the extent that these residues are deprived of the material terrain that gave them life, thnecessarily slowly disappear. This is how they ac2uire a traditional character. 1tradition is also part ofreality which lives in the minds of men, acts upon the other parts and for that reason fre2uently disposes oconsiderable and potent force. Butit is a natural mental realit$ ,hose material roots are sunk in the past .This is how religion became, for the modern proletariat, an ideology of a purely traditional nature it mstill have a powerful influence on its action, but this power only has roots in the past, in the importance tthe community of religion possessed in other times it is no longer nourished by contemporary reality, inexploitation by capital, in its struggle against capital. 3or this reason the process leading to its extinctiamong the proletariat will not stop. To the contrary, contemporary reality is increasingly cultivating clconsciousness which is conse2uently occupying a larger place in the proletariatOs mind, and whicincreasingly determining its action.

+&r Task

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I have framed the task assigned by our study. 5istory has given rise to nations with their limitations and thspecific characteristics. But they are not yet finished and complete definitive facts with which one mcontend. 5istory is still following its course. Each day it continues to build upon and modify what t previous days built. It is not enough, then, to confirm that the nation is that which is historical in solidified history. +f it ,ere nothing but petrified histor$ , it would be of a purely traditional nature, likereligion. But for our practice, and for our tactics, the 2uestion of whether or not it is something more ththis assumes the utmost importance. #f course, one must deal with it in any case, as with any great men power in man but the 2uestion of whether nationalist ideology only presents itself as a power of the pastwhether it sinks its roots into todayOs world, are two completely different things. 3or us, the most impo

and decisive 2uestion is the following4 how does present3da$ realit$ act upon the nation and everythingnational: In what sense are they being modified today: The reality in 2uestion here ishighl$3de%elopedcapitalism and the proletarian class struggle .

This, then, is our position in regard to BauerOs study4 in other times, the nation played no role at all itheory and practice of social democracy. There was no reason to take it into consideration in most countrit is of no use to the class struggle to pay any attention to the national 2uestion. #bliged to do so by 1ustrisituation Bauer has filled this gap. 5e has demonstrated that the nation is neither the product of thimagination of a few literati nor is it the artificial product of nationalist propaganda with the tool !arxism he has shown that it has sunk its material roots into history and he has explained the necessity anthe power of national ideas by the rise of capitalism. 1nd the nation stands revealed as a powerful realwith which we must come to terms in our struggle he gives us the key to understand the modern history1ustria, and we must thus answer the following 2uestion4 what is the influence of the nation and nationalon the class struggle, how must it be assessed in the class struggle: This is the basis and the guiding threof the works of Bauer and the other 1ustrian !arxists. But with this approach, the task is only half-finished3or the nation is not simply a self-contained and complete phenomenon whose effect on the class strugmust be ascertained4 it is itself in turn sub ected to the influence of contemporary forces, among which proletariatOs revolutionary struggle for emancipation is increasingly tending to become a factor of the order.What effect , then , does the class struggle , the rise of the proletariat , for its part e6ercise upon thenation : Bauer has not examined this 2uestion, or he has done so in an insufficient manner the study of thissue leads, in many cases, to udgments and conclusions which diverge from those he provided.

II. The Nation and the Proletariat

"lass $ntagonismThe current reality which most intensely determines manOs mentality and existence iscapitalism . But it doesnot affect all men in the same way it is one thing for the capitalist and another for the proletarian. 3or t

members of the bourgeois class, capitalism is the world of the production of wealth and competition mwell-being, an increase in the mass of capital from which they try to extract the maximum possible profian individualistic struggle with their peers and which opens up for them the road to luxury and ten oyment of a refined culture, this is what the process of production provides for them. 3or the workersis the hard labor of endless slavery, permanent insecurity in their living conditions, eternal poverty, withthe hope of ever getting anything but a poverty wage. $onse2uently, capitalism must exercise very differeeffects on the minds of the bourgeoisie and the minds of the members of the exploited class. The nation iseconomic entity, a community of labor, even between workers and capitalists. $apital and labor are bonecessary and must come together so that capitalist production can exist. It is a community of labor o particular nature in this community, capital and labor appear as antagonistic poles they constitutecommunity of labor in the same way that predators and prey constitute a community of life.

The nation is a community of character which has arisen from a community of fate. But with tdevelopment of capitalism, it is thedifference of fates which is increasingly dominant in considering the bourgeoisie and the proletariat within any particular people. To explain what he means by the community

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fate, Bauer speaks *p. 0 0+ of the Jrelations constituted by the fact that both Mthe English worker andEnglish bourgeoisN live in the same city, that both read the same posters and the same newspapers, take in the same political and sporting events, by the fact that on occasion they speak with one another or, at le both speak with the various intermediaries between capitalists and workersJ. 'ow, the JfateJ of men doenot consist in reading the same billboards, but in great and important e6periences which are totally differentfor each class. The whole world knows what the English ?rime !inister israeli said about the two nationsliving alongside one another in our modern society without really understanding it. id he not intend to sthat no community of fate links the two classes:M=N

#f course, one does not have to take this statement literally in its modern sense. The community of fate the past still exercises its influence on todayOs community of character. 1s long as the proletariat does have a clear consciousness of the particularity of its own experience, as long as its class consciousness hnot been awakened or is only slightly stirred, it remains the prisoner of traditional thinking, its thoughnourished on the leftovers of the bourgeoisie, it surely constitutes with the latter a kind of communityculture in the same way that the servants in the kitchen are the guests of their masters. The peculiaritiesEnglish history make this mental community all the more powerful in England, while it is extremely weaGermany. In all the young nations where capitalism is ust making its appearance, the mentality of tworking class is dominated by the traditions of the previous peasant and petit-bourgeois era. #nly little little, with the awakening of class consciousness and class struggle under the impact of new antagonismwill the community of character shared by the two classes disappear.

There will undoubtedly still be relations between the two classes. But they are limited to rules aregulations of the factory and to carrying out work orders, so that the community of language is not evnecessary, as the use of foreign-born workers speaking various languages proves. The more conscious their situation and of exploitation the workers become, the more fre2uently they fight against the employto improve their working conditions, the more that the relations between the two classes are transformed ienmity and conflict. There is ust as little community between them as between two peoples who aconstantly engaged in frontier skirmishes. The more aware of social development the workers become, athe more socialism appears to them as the necessary goal of their struggle, the more they feel the rule of capitalist class as foreign rule , and with this expression one becomes aware of ust how much the communityof character has dissipated.

Bauer defines national character as the Jdifference in orientations of the will, the fact that the same stimu produces different reactions, that the same external circumstances provoke different decisionsJ *p. 0$ould one imagine more antagonistic orientations than those of the will of the bourgeoisie and the will of proletariat: The names of Bismarck, Hassalle, 0C=C, stimulate feelings which are not ust different but eopposed in the German workers and the German bourgeoisie. The German workers of the Empire w belong to the German nation udge almost everything that happens in Germany in a different and opposway to that of the bourgeoisie. 1ll the other classes re oice together over anything that contributes to thgreatness and the foreign reach of their national /tate, while the proletariat combats every measure whileads to such results. The bourgeois classes speak of war against other /tates in order to increase their ow

power, while the proletariat thinks of a way to prevent war or discovers an occasion for its own liberationthe defeat of its own government.

This is why one cannot speak of the nation as an entity except prior to the full unfolding within it of the clstruggle, since it is only in that case that the working class still follows in the footsteps of the bourgeoiThe class antagonism bet,een the bourgeoisie and the proletariat results in the progressi%e disappearanceof their national communit$ of fate and of character . The constitutive forces of the nation must therefore beseparately examined in each of the two classes.

The Will to 1orm a ation

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Bauer is completely correct when he views the differences in orientation of the will as the essential elemin differences of national character. here all wills are oriented in the same way, a coherent mass is formedwhere events and influences from the outside world provoke different and opposed determinations, ruptand separation result. The differences of wills have separated the nations from one another but whose wilinvolved here: That of the rising bourgeoisie. 1s a result of the preceding proofs concerning the genesis modern nations, its will to form a nation is the most important constitutive force.

hat is it that makes the $%ech nation a specific community in relation to the German nation: That which ac2uired by life in common, the content of the community of fate which continues to practically influen

the national character, is extremely weak. The content of its culture is almost totally taken from the modnations which preceded it, above all the German nation this is why Bauer says *p. 0 @+4 JIt is not complincorrect to say that the $%echs are $%ech-speaking Germans. ...J #ne might also add some peasatraditions rounded off with reminiscences of 5uss, Piska and the battle of hite !ountain,M@N exhumedfrom the past and without any practical meaning today. 5ow could a Jnational cultureJ have been erecteupon the basis of a particular language: Because the bourgeoisieneeds separation, because it,ants toconstitute a nation in relation to the Germans. It wants to do so because it needs to do so, because capitacompetition obliges it to monopoli%e to the greatest possible extent a territory of markets and exploitatThe conflict of interests with the other capitalists creates the nation wherever the necessary element existspecific language. Bauer and <enner clearly demonstrate in their expositions of the genesis of modenations that the will of the rising bourgeois classes created the nations. 'ot as a conscious or arbitrary wi but as wanting at the same time as being compelled, the necessary conse2uence of economic factors.TheJnations J in%ol%ed in the political struggle , ,hich are fighting among themsel%es for influence o%er the!tate , for po,er in the !tate *Bauer, pp. 70C-7=9+,are nothing but organi#ations of the bourgeois classes , ofthe petit-bourgeoisie, the bourgeoisie, the intellectuals classes whose existence is based upon competitio and here the proletarians and the peasants play a secondary role.

The proletariat has nothing to do with this necessity of competition of the bourgeois classes, with their wto constitute a nation. 3or it, the nation does not mean the privilege of securing a customer base, positionsopportunities for work. The capitalists immediately learned to import foreign workers who do not speGerman or $%ech. By mentioning this capitalist practice it is not our basic intention to expose nationahypocrisy, but above all to make the workers understand that under the rule of capitalism the nation cnever be synonymous with a labor monopoly for them. 1nd only infre2uently does one hear amon backward workers, such as the 1merican trade unionists of the old school, of a desire to restrict immigratiThe nation can also temporarily assume its own significance for the proletariat. hen capitalism penetratean agrarian region, the landlords then belong to a more developed capitalist nation, and the workers leave peasantry for the other nation. 'ational feeling can then be for the workers an initial means of becominaware of their community of interests against the foreign capitalists. 'ational antagonism is in this case th primitive form of class antagonism, ust as in <hineland- estphalia, during the era of the ;ulturkampf , thereligious antagonism between the $atholic workers and their liberal employers was the primitive formclass antagonism. But from the moment when a nation is sufficiently developed to have a proper bourgeowhich takes responsibility for exploitation, proletarian nationalism is uprooted. In the struggle for betliving conditions, for intellectual development, for culture, for a more dignified existence, the other clasin their nation are the sworn enemies of the workers while their foreign language-speaking class comraare their friends and allies. The class struggle creates an international community of interests.Thus , for the

proletariat , one cannot speak of a ,ill to become a separate nation based on economic interests , on itsmaterial situation .

The "omm&nit( of "&lt&reBauer discovers another nation-building force in the class struggle. 'ot in the economic content of the clastruggle, but in its cultural effects. 5e defines the politics of the modern working class as anational3e%olutionar$ politics *p. 09@+ that will unite the entire people in a nation. This has to be more than us primitive and popular way of expressing our goals in the language of nationalism, with the intention

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making them accessible to those workers who have gotten mixed up with nationalist ideology and who hnot yet become aware of the great revolutionary importance of socialism. /o Bauer adds4 JBut because proletariat necessarily struggles for possession of the cultural wealth that its work creates and mak possible, the effect of this politics is necessarily that of calling the entire people to take part in the natiocommunity of culture and thereby to make the totality of the people into a nation.J

1t first glance this seems to be completely correct. 1s long as the workers, crushed by capitalist exploitatioare immersed in physical misery and vegetate without hope or intellectual activity, they do not participatethe culture of the bourgeois classes, a culture which is based on the labor of the workers. They form part

the nation in the same way as livestock, they constitute nothing but property, and they are nothing more thsecond-class citi%ens in the nation. It is the class struggle which brings them to life it is by way of the cstruggle that they get free time, higher wages and therefore the opportunity to engage in intellectudevelopment. Through socialism, their energy is awakened, their minds are stimulated they begin to refirst of all socialist pamphlets and political newspapers, but soon the aspiration and the need to compltheir intellectual training leads them to tackle literary, historical and scientific works4 the partyOs educatcommittees even devote special efforts to introducing them to classical literature. In this manner they accto the community of culture of the bourgeois classes of their nation. 1nd when the worker can freely awithout coercion devote himself to his intellectual development under socialism, which shall free him frthe endless slavery of labor unlike his present situation where he can only appropriate in scarce momentof leisure, and then only with difficulty, small fragments of culture only then will the worker be able toabsorb the entire national culture and become, in the fullest sense of the word, a member of the nation.

But one important point is overlooked in these reflections. 1 community of culture between the workers athe bourgeoisie can only exist superficially, apparently and sporadically. The workers can to some extent,course, read the same books as the bourgeoisie, the same classics and the same works of natural history, bthis produces no community of culture. Because the basis of their thought and their world-view is different from that of the bourgeoisie, the workersderi%e something %er$ different from their reading thandoes the bourgeoisie. 1s pointed out above, national culture does not exist in a vacuum it is the expressiof the material history of the life of those classes whose rise created the nation. hat we find expressed i/chiller and Goethe are not abstractions of the aesthetic imagination, but the feelings and ideals of th bourgeoisie in its youth, its aspiration to freedom and the rights of man, its own way of perceiving the woand its problems. TodayOs class-conscious worker has other feelings, other ideals and another world-vhen he is reading and comes across illiam TellOs individualism or the eternal, indomitable and etherearights of man, the mentality which is thus expressed is not his mentality, which owes its maturity to a m profound understanding of society and which knows that the rights of man can only be con2uered throuthe struggle of a mass organi%ation. 5e is not insensitive to the beauty of ancient literature it is preciselyhistorical udgment which allows him to understand the ideals of past generations on the basis of theconomic systems. 5e is capable of feeling their power, and is thus capable of appreciating the beauty of tworks in which they have found their most perfect expression. This is because the beautiful is that whapproaches and represents in the most perfect way possible the universality, the essence and the mo profound substance of a reality.

To this one must add that, in many respects, the feelings of the bourgeois revolutionary era produced powerful echo in the bourgeoisie but what is found as an echo in the bourgeoisie of that era, is precisewhat is lacking in the modern bourgeoisie. This is all the more true in regard to radical and proletariliterature. 1s for what made the proletariat so enthusiastic about the works of 5eine and 3reiligrathMDN, the bourgeoisie does not want to know anything. The way the two classes read the literature which is availato both, is totally different their social and political ideals are diametrically opposed, their world-views hnothing in common. This is to a certain extent even truer of their views of history. In history, what t bourgeoisie considers to be the most sublime memories of the nation arouse nothing but hatred, aversionindifference in the proletariat. 5ere nothing points to their possessing a shared culture. #nly the physical anatural sciences are admired and honored by both classes. Their content is identical for both. But ho

different from the attitude of the bourgeois classes, is that of the worker who has recogni%ed these scienas the basis of his absolute rule over nature and over his destiny in the future socialist society. .or the,orker , this %ie, of nature , this concept of histor$ and this literar$ sentiment , are not elements of a nationalculture in ,hich he participates , the$ are elements of his socialist culture .

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The most essential intellectual content, the determinant thoughts, and the real culture of the social democdo not have their roots in /chiller or Goethe, but in !arx and Engels. 1nd this culture, which has arisenfrom a lucid socialist understanding of history and the future of society, the socialist ideal of a free aclassless humanity, and the proletarian communitarian ethic, and which for those very reasons is in all ofcharacteristic features opposed to bourgeois culture, is international. This culture, despite its variomanifestations among different peoples since the proletariansO perspectives vary according to theconditions of existence and the form assumed by their economies and despite the fact that it is powerfullinfluenced by the historical background of each nation, especially where the class struggle underdeveloped, is everywhere the same. Its form, the language in which it is expressed, is different, but

the other differences, even the national ones, are progressively reduced by the development of the clastruggle and the growth of socialism. Indeed, the gap between the culture of the bourgeoisie and that of proletariat is constantly expanding. It is therefore inaccurate to say that the proletariat is fighting for ownership of the national cultural goods which it produces with its labor. It does not fight to appropriate cultural goods of the bourgeoisie it fights for control over production and to establish its own socialculture upon that foundation. hat we call the cultural effects of the class struggle, the workersO ac2uisitiof self-consciousness, of knowledge and the desire to learn, of higher intellectual standards, has nothingdo with a bourgeois national culture, but represents the growth of socialist culture. This culture is a prodof the struggle, a struggle which is waged against the whole bourgeois world. 1nd ust as we see the nehumanity developing in the proletariat, proud and sure of victory, freed from the vile slavery of the pacomprised of brave combatants, capable of an unpre udiced and complete understanding of the courseevents, united by the strongest bonds of solidarity in a solid unit, so from now on the spirit of the nhumanity, socialist culture, weak at first, confused and mixed with bourgeois traditions, will be awakenedthis proletariat, and will then become clearer, purer, more beautiful and richer.

This is obviously not intended to imply that bourgeois culture will not also continue to rule for a long tiand exercise a powerful influence on the minds of the workers. Too many influences from that world affthe proletariat, with or without its consent not only school, church, and bourgeois press, but all the fine aand scientific works impregnated by bourgeois thought. But more and more fre2uently, and in an ever-mcomprehensive fashion, life itself and their own experience triumphs over the bourgeois world-view in minds of the workers. 1nd this is how it must be. Because the more the bourgeois world-view tak possession of the workers, the less capable of fighting they become under its influence, the workers are fof respect for the ruling powers, they are inculcated with the ideological thought of the latter, their luclass consciousness is obscured, they turn on their own kind from this or that nation, they are scattered aare therefore ,eakened in the struggle and depri%ed of their self3confidence . #ur goal demands a proudhuman species, self-conscious, bold in both thought and action. 1nd this is why the very re2uirements of tstruggle are freeing the workers from these paraly%ing influences of bourgeois culture.

+t is, then , inaccurate to sa$ that the ,orkers are , b$ means of their struggle , gaining access to a Jnationalcommunit$ of culture J. +t is the politics of the proletariat , the international politics of the class struggle ,,hich is engendering a ne, international and socialist culture in the proletariat .

The "omm&nit( of "lass Str&ggleBauer opposes the nation as acommunit$ of fate to the class, in which the similarit$ of fates has developedsimilar character traits. But the working class is not ust a group of men who have experienced the same fand thus have the same character.The class struggle ,elds the proletariat into a communit$ of fate . The fatelived in common is the struggle wagedin common againstthe same enemy.

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In the trade union struggle, workers of different nationalities see themselves confronted by the samemployer. They must wage their struggle as a compact unit they know its vicissitudes and effects in tmost intimate kind of community of fate. They have brought their national differences with them from thvarious countries, mixed with the primitive individualism of the peasants or the petit-bourgeoisie, perhalso a little national consciousness, combined with other bourgeois traditions. But all of these differences traditions of the past opposed to the present need to resist as a compact mass, and opposed to the livicommunity of combat of the present day.nl$ one difference has any practical significance here4 that oflanguage all explanations, all proposals, all information must be communicated to everyone in their owlanguage. In the great 1merican strikes *the steelworkers strike at !c8eeOs <ocks or the textile worke

strike at Hawrence, for example+, the strikers a dis ointed conglomeration of the most varied nationalitie3rench, Italians, ?oles, Turks, /yrians, etc. formed separate language sections whose committees alwaysheld oint meetings and simultaneously communicated proposals to each section in its own language, th preserving the unity of the whole, which proves that, despite the inherent difficulties of the language barra close-knit community of proletarian struggle can be achieved. anting to proceed here to anorgani%ational separation between that which unites life and struggle, the real interests of those involveand such a separation is what separatism implies is so contrary to reality that its success can only btemporary.

This is not only true for the workers in one factory. In order to wage their struggle successfully, the workof the whole country must unite in one trade union and all of its members must consider the advancemeneach local group as their own struggle. This is all the more necessary when, in the course of events, the trunion struggle assumes harsher forms. The employers unite in cartels and employersO associations the ldo not distinguish between $%ech or German employers, as they group together all the employers in whole /tate, and sometimes even extend beyond the borders of the /tate. 1ll the workers of the same tradliving in the same /tate go on strike and suffer the lock-outs in common and conse2uently form community of lived fate, and this is of the utmost importance, trumping all national differences. 1nd in trecent sailorsO movement for higher wages which in the summer of 0>00 confronted an internatioassociation of ship-owners, one could already see an international community of fate arising as a tangireality.

The same thing happens in the political struggle. In theCommunist :anifesto of !arx and Engels, one mayread the following4 JThough not in substance, yet in form, the struggle of the proletariat with the bourgeois at first a national struggle. The proletariat of each country must, of course, first of all settle matters withown bourgeoisie.JM N In this passage it is clear that the word JnationalJ is not used in its 1ustrian sense, buarises from the context of the situation in estern Europe where /tate and nation are synonymous. This passage only means that the English workers cannot wage the class struggle against the 3rench bourgeoisnor can the 3rench workers wage the class struggle against the English bourgeoisie, but that the Engli bourgeoisie and the power of the English /tate can be attacked and defeated only by the English proletariIn 1ustria, /tate and nation are separate entities. The nation naturally arises as a community of interests the bourgeois classes. But it is the !tate ,hich is the real solid organi#ation of the bourgeoisie for protectingits interests . The /tate protects property, it takes care of administration, puts the fleet and the army in ordecollects the taxes and keeps the masses under control. The JnationsJ, or, more precisely4 the actiorgani%ations which use the nationOs name, that is, the bourgeois parties, have no other purpose than tofor the con2uest of a fitting share of influence over the /tate, for participation in /tate power. 3or the bi bourgeoisie, whose economic interests embrace the whole /tate and even other countries, and which needirect privileges, customs duties, /tate purchases and protection overseas, it is its natural community interests, rather than the nation, which defines the /tate and its limitations. The apparent independenwhich /tate power has managed to preserve for so long thanks to the conflicts between nations cannobscure the fact that that it has also been an instrument at the service of big capital.

This is why the center of gravity of the political struggle of the working class is shifting towards the /ta1s long as the struggle for political power still remains a secondary issue, and agitation, propaganda and t

struggle of ideas which naturally must be expressed in every language are still the highest priority, the proletarian armies will continue to be separated nationally for the political struggle. In this first stage of socialist movement, the most important task is to free the proletarians from the ideological influence of petit bourgeoisie, to snatch them away from the bourgeois parties and inculcate them with cla

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consciousness. The bourgeois parties, separated by national boundaries, then become the enemies to fought. The /tate appears to be a legislative power from which laws can be demanded for the protection the proletariat the con2uest of influence over the /tate in favor of proletarian interests is presented to t barely-conscious proletarians as the first goal of proletarian action. 1nd the final goal, the struggle fsocialism, is presented as a struggle for /tate power, against the bourgeois parties.

But when the socialist party attains the status of an important factor in parliament, our task changes. parliament, where all essential political 2uestions are settled, the proletariat is confronted by trepresentatives of the bourgeois classes of the entire /tate. The essential political struggle, to whic

educational work is increasingly sub ected and into which it is increasingly integrated, unfolds on the terrof the /tate. It is the same for all the /tateOs workers, regardless of their nationalities. The communitystruggle extends to the entire proletariat of the /tate, a proletariat for whom the common struggle against same enemy, against all of the bourgeois parties and their governments in all nations, becomes a commfate. +t is not the nation , but the !tate ,hich determines for the proletariat the borders of the communit$ of

fate constituted b$ the parliamentar$ political struggle . 1s long as socialist propaganda remains the mostimportant activity for the 1ustrian and <ussian <uthenians,MCN the two national groups will be closelylinked. But from the moment when developments reach a point where the real political struggle is wagagainst /tate power the bourgeois ma ority and its government they must go their separate ways, andfight in different places with sometimes completely different methods. The former intervene in Kienna in <eichsrat together with Tyrolean and $%ech workers, while the latter now carry on the fight undclandestine conditions, or in the streets of 8iev against the $%arOs government and its $ossacks. Thcommunity of fate is sundered.

1ll of this is all the more clearly manifested as the proletariat becomes more powerful and its struggoccupies a larger and larger share of the field of history. /tate power, along with all the potent means at idisposal, is the fief of the owning classes the proletariat cannot free itself, it cannot defeat capitalism unlit first defeats this powerful organi%ation. The con2uest of political hegemony is not a struggle for /t power it is a struggle against /tate power. The social revolution which shall issue into socialism consisessentially of defeating /tate power with the power of the proletarian organi%ation. This is why it mustcarried out by the proletariat of the entire /tate. #ne could say that thiscommon liberation struggle againsta common enem$ is the most important e6perience in the entire histor$ of the life of the proletariat from its

first a,akening until its %ictor$ . This makes the ,orking class of the same !tate , rather than the same nation ,a communit$ of fate . #nly in estern Europe, where /tate and nation more or less coincide, does thestruggle waged on the terrain of the nation-state for political hegemony give rise within the proletariatcommunities of fate which coincide with nations.

But even in this case the international character of the proletariat develops rapidly. The workers of differcountries exchange theory and practice, methods of struggle and concepts, and they consider these topics be matters common to all. This was certainly the case with the rising bourgeoisie in their economic a philosophical concepts, the English, 3rench and Germans were mutually and profoundly influenced by thexchange of ideas. But no community resulted from this exchange because their economic antagonism

them to organi%e into mutually hostile nations it was precisely the 3rench bourgeoisieOs con2uest o bourgeois freedom long en oyed by the English bourgeoisie which provoked the bitter 'apoleonic ars./uch conflicts of interest are utterly lacking in the proletariat and for that reason the reciprocal intellectuinfluence exercised by the working classes of the various countries can act without constraint in forminginternational community of culture. But their community is not limited to this aspect. The struggles, victories and the defeats in one country have profound impacts on the class struggle in other countries. Tstruggles waged by our class comrades in other countries against their bourgeoisie areour affairs not only onthe terrain of ideas, but alsoon the material plane they form part of our own fight and we feel them as such.The 1ustrian workers, for whom the <ussian <evolution was a decisive episode in their own struggle funiversal suffrage, know this 2uite well.M>N The proletariat of the whole world perceives itself asa singlearm$ , as a great association which is only obliged for practical reasons to split into numerous battalio

which must fight the enemy separately, since the bourgeoisie is organi%ed into /tates and there are as a renumerous fortresses to reduce. This is also the way the press informs us of struggles in foreign countries4English ock /trikes, the Belgian elections, and the demonstrations on the streets of Budapest are all o

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interest to our great class organi%ation. In this manner the international class struggle becomes thecommone6perience of the workers of all countries.

The ation in the State of the 1&t&reThis conception of the proletariat already reflects the conditions of the future social order, in which men wno longer know /tate antagonisms. Through the overthrow of the rigid /tate organi%ations of the bourgeoi by the organi%ational power of the proletarian masses, the /tate disappears as a coercive power and as terrain of domination which is so sharply demarcated in relation to foreign /tates. ?olitical organi%atiotake on a new function4 JThe government of persons gives way to the administration of things,J Engels sin his Anti30ühring .M0 N 3or the conscious regulation of production, you need organi%ation, executive orgaand administrative activity but the extremely strict centrali%ation such as that practiced by todayOs /taneither necessary nor can it possibly be employed in pursuit of that goal. /uch centrali%ation will give wafull decentrali%ation and self-administration. 1ccording to the si%e of each sector of production, organi%ations will cover larger or smaller areas while bread, for example, will be produced on a local scsteel production and the operation of railroad networks re2uire /tate-si%ed economic entities. There will production units of the most various si%es, from the workshop and the municipality to the /tate, and ev

for certain industries, all of humanity. Those naturally-occurring human groups, nations will they not thetake the place of the vanished /tates as organi%ational units: This will undoubtedly be the case, for tsimple practical reason, that they arecommunities of the same language and all of manOs relations aremediated through language.

But Bauer confers a totally different meaning upon the nations of the future4 JThe fact that socialism wmake the nation autonomous, will make its destiny a product of the nationOs conscious will, will result increasing differentiation between the nations of the socialist society, a clearer expression of thspecificities, a clearer distinction between their respective charactersJ *p. >D+. /ome nations, of coureceive the content of their culture and their ideas in various ways from other nations, but they only accthem in the context of their own national cultures. J3or this reason, the autonomy of the national commun

of culture within socialism necessarily means, despite the diminishing of differences between the matecontents of their cultures, a growing differentiation between the intellectual cultures of the nationsJ >C+. ... Thus Jthe nation based on the community of education carries within it the tendency for unity alchildren are sub ect to the same education, all its members work together in the national workshop participate in the creation of the collective will of the nation, and en oy with each other the cultural wealththe nation. /ocialism thus carries within itself the guarantee of the unity of the nation.J *p. >C+. $apitalalready displays the tendency to reinforce the national differences of the masses and to provide the natiwith a stronger inner coherence. J5owever, it is only a socialist society that will see this tendency triumph. Through differences in national education and customs, socialist society will distinguish peopfrom one another to the same extent that the educated classes of the different nations are distinguished frone another today. There may well exist limited communities of character within the socialist nation bautonomous cultural communities will not be able to exist within the nation, because every local communwill be sub ect to the influence of the culture of the nation of the nation as a whole and will engagecultural interaction, in the exchange of ideas with the entire nationJ *p. 00 +.

The conception which is expressed in these sentences is nothing but the ideological transposition of t1ustrian present into a socialist future. It confers upon the nations under socialism a role which is curren played by the /tates, that is, an increasing isolation from the outside and an internal leveling of adifferences among the many levels of economic and administrative units, it gives the nations a privilegrank, similar to that which falls to the /tate in the conception of our adversaries, who loudly complain abothe Jomnipotence of the /tateJ under socialism, and here Bauer even speaks of Jnational workshopsJ. In aevent, while socialist writings always refer to the workshops and means of production of the Jcommunityopposition to private property, without precisely delineating the dimensions of the community, here tnation is considered as the only community of men, autonomous in respect to other nations, undifferentiawithin its borders.





/uch a conception is only possible if one totally abandons the material terrain from which the muturelations and ideas of men have arisen and only insists on the mental forces as determinant factors. 'ationdifferences thereby totally lose the economic roots which today give them such an extraordinary vigor. Tsocialist mode of production does not develop oppositions of interest between nations, as is the case with bourgeois mode of production. The economic unit is neither the /tate nor the nation, but the world. Thmode of production is much more than a network of national productive units connected to one anotheran intelligent policy of communications and by international conventions, as Bauer describes it on pag=09-=0= it is anorgani#ation of ,orld production in one unit and the common affair of all humanity. In thisworld community of which the proletariatOs internationalism is henceforth a beginning, one can no m

discuss the autonomy of the German nation, to take an example, than one could speak of the autonomyBavaria, or of the $ity of ?rague or the ?oldi /teelworks. 1ll partially manage their own affairs and aldepend upon the whole, as parts of that whole. The whole notion of autonomy comes from the capitalist ewhen the conditions of domination led to their opposite, that is, freedom in respect to a particular formdomination.

This material basis of the collectivity,organi#ed ,orld production , transforms the future of humanit$ into a single communit$ of destin$ . 3or the great achievements which are hoped for, the scientific and technologicacon2uest of the entire earth and its transformation into a magnificent home for a race of masters MeinGeschlecht %on Herrenmenschen N, happy and proud of their victory, who have become rulers of nature anits forces, for such great achievements which we can hardly even imagine today the borders of /tates and peoples are too narrow and restrictive.The communit$ of fate ,ill unite all of humanit$ in an intellectual andcultural communit$ . Hinguistic diversity will be no obstacle, since every human community which maintaireal communication with another human community will create a common language. ithout attemptinhere to examine the 2uestion of a universal language, we shall only point out that today it is easy to levarious languages once one has advanced beyond the level of primary instruction. This is why it is uselessexamine the 2uestion of to what degree the current linguistic boundaries and differences are of a permannature. hat Bauer says about the nation in the last sentence 2uoted above therefore applies to all ofhumanity4 although restricted communities of character will subsist within humanity, there cannotindependent communities of culture because every local *and national+ community, without exception, find itself, under the influence of the culture of all of humanity, in cultural communication, in an exchanof ideas, with humanity in its entirety.

The Transformations of the ation#ur investigation has demonstrated that under the rule of advanced capitalism, which is accompanied class struggle, the proletariat cannot be a nation-building force. It does not form a community of fate wthe bourgeois classes, nor does it share a community of material interests, nor a community which co possibly be that of intellectual culture. The rudiments of such a community, which were sketched at the v beginning of capitalism, will necessarily disappear with the further development of the class struggle. hi powerful economic forces generate national isolation, national antagonism and the whole nationalideology in the bourgeois classes, these features are absent among the proletariat. They are replaced by tclass struggle, which gives the lives of the proletarians their essential content, and creates an internatiocommunity of fate and of character in which nations as linguistic groups have no practical significance. 1since the proletariat is humanity in the process of becoming, this community constitutes the dawn of teconomic and cultural community of all of humanity under socialism.

e must therefore respond in the affirmative to the 2uestion we posed above4 .or the proletariat , national phenomena are of no more significance than traditions . Their material roots are buried in the past andcannot be nourished b$ the e6periences of the proletariat . Thus, for the proletariat the nation plays a rolewhich is similar to that of religion. e acknowledge their differences, despite their kinship. The materiaroots of religious antagonisms are lost in the distant past and the people of our time know almost nothabout them. 3or this reason these antagonisms are totally disconnected from all material interests and seto be purely abstract disputes about supernatural 2uestions. #n the other hand, the material roots of nation

0



antagonisms are all around us, in the modern bourgeois world with which we are in constant contact, athis is why they preserve all the freshness and vigor of youth and are all the more influential the mocapable we are of directly feeling the interests they express but, due to the fact that their roots are notdeep, they lack the resistance of an ideology petrified by the passage of centuries, a resistance which ishard to overcome.

#ur investigation therefore leads us to a completely different conception than BauerOs. The latter imagicontrary to bourgeois nationalism, a continuous transformation of the nation towards new forms and ntypes. /o the German nation has assumed, throughout its history, continually changing appearances from t

proto-German to the future member of the socialist society. "nder these changing forms, however, thnation remains the same, and even if certain nations must disappear and others arise, the nation will alwa be the basic structure of society. 1ccording to our findings, however, the nation is ust a temporary antransitory structure in the history of the evolution of humanity, one of numerous forms of organi%ation wfollow one another in succession or exist side by side4 tribes, peoples, empires, churches, villacommunities, /tates. 1mong these forms, the nation, in its particular nature, is a product of bourgeoisociety and will disappear with the latter. 1 desire to discover the nation in all past and future communitiis as artificial as the determination to interpret, after the fashion of the bourgeois economists, the wh panoply of past and future economic forms as various forms of capitalism, and to conceive world evolutas the evolution of capitalism, which would proceed from the JcapitalJ of the savage, his bow and arrowsthe JcapitalJ of socialist society.

This is the weak point of the basic underlying idea of BauerOs work, as we pointed out above. hen he sathat the nation is not a fixed ob ect but a process of becoming, he implies that the nation as such permanent and eternal. 3or Bauer, the nation is Jthe never-finished product of an eternally-occurri processJ. .or us , the nation is an episode in the process of human e%olution , a process ,hich de%elopsto,ards the infinite . 3or Bauer the nation constitutes the permanent fundamental element of humanity. 5itheory isa reflection on the ,hole histor$ of humanit$ from the perspecti%e of the nation . Economic formschange, classes emerge and pass away, but these are only changes of the nation, within the nation. Tnation remains the primary element upon which the classes and their transformations simply confechanging content. This is why Bauer expresses the ideas and the goals of socialism in the language nationalism and speaks of the nation where others have used the terms people and humanity4 the Jnatiodue to the private ownership of the means of labor, has lost control over its destiny the JnationJ has nconsciously determined its destiny, the capitalists have the JnationJ of the future will become the architof its own destiny we have already referred to his mention of national workshops. /o Bauer is led describe as national-evolutionary and national-conservative the two opposed trends in politics4 thatsocialism, oriented towards the future, and that of capitalism, which is trying to preserve the existieconomic order. 3ollowing the example cited above, one could ust as well call this kind of socialism tsocialism of capitalist-evolutionary politics.

BauerOs way of approaching the national 2uestion is a specifically 1ustrian theory, and is a doctrine ofevolution of humanity which could only have arisen in 1ustria, where national 2uestions totally domin

public life. It is a confirmation of the fact that, and this is not meant to stigmati%e him, a researcher whsuccessfully masters the method of the !arxist conception of history in turn becomes, by succumbing to thinfluence of his surroundings, a proof of that theory.

It is only such influence which has placed him in such circumstances that he can make our scientifunderstanding advance to such a point. 1long with the fact that we are not logical thinking machines bhuman beings who are living in a world which obliges us to have a full knowledge of the problems whthe practice of the struggle pose for us, by relying on experience and reflection.

But it seems to us that the different conclusions also involve different basic philosophical concepts. In wway have all our criticisms of BauerOs conceptions always converged: In a different evaluation of mate

and intellectual forces. hile Bauer bases himself on the indestructible power of mental phenomena, oideology as an independent force, we always put the accent on its dependence on economic conditions. Itempting to consider this deviation from !arxist materialism in the light of the fact that Bauer has ovarious occasions represented himself as a defender of 8antOs philosophy and figures among the 8antians

7



this manner, his work is a double confirmation of the fact that !arxism is a precious and indispensablscientific method.

#nly !arxism has allowed him to enunciate numerous noteworthy results which enrich our understanding is precisely at those points which are in some respect lacking that his method is most distant from tmaterialist conceptions of !arxism.

III. Socialist Tactics

ationalist Demands/ocialist tactics are based on the science of social development. The way a working class assumeresponsibility for pursuing its own interests is determined by its conception of the future evolution ofconditions. Its tactics must not yield to the influence of every desire and every goal which arise among oppressed proletariat, or by every idea that dominates the latterOs mentality if these are in contradiction the effective development they are unreali%able, so all the energy and all the work devoted to them arvain and can even be harmful. This was the case with all the movements and attempts to stop the triumphmarch of big industry and to reintroduce the old order of the guilds. The militant proletariat has re ectedof that guided by its understanding of the inevitable nature of capitalist development, it has put forthsocialist goal. The leading idea of our tactics is to favor that which will inevitably reali%e this goal. 3or reason it is of paramount importance to establish, not what role nationalism is playing in this or th proletariat at this moment, but what will its long-term role be in the proletariat under the influence of the of the class struggle. #ur conceptions of the future meaning of nationalism for the working class are tconceptions which must determine our tactical positions in relation to the national 2uestion.

BauerOs conceptions concerning the nationOs future constitute the theoretical basis of thetactics of national

opportunism . The opportunistic tactic itself presents the very outline of the basic premise of his work, whiconsiders nationality as the sole powerful and permanent result of historical development in its entiretythe nation constitutes, and not ust today but on an ever expanding scale in con unction with the growththe workers movement, and under socialism totally does so, the natural unifying and dividing principlehumanity, then it would be useless to want to fight against the power of the national idea in the proletariThen it would be necessary for us to champion nationalist demands and we would have to make every effto convince the patriotic workers that socialism is the best and the only real nationalism.

Tactics would be completely different if one were to adopt the conviction that nationalism is nothing b bourgeois ideology which does not have material roots in the proletariat and which will therefore disappas the class struggle develops. In this case, nationalism is not only a passing episode in the proletariat,

also constitutes, like all bourgeois ideology,an obstacle for the class struggle ,hose harmful influence mustbe eliminated as much as possible . Its elimination is part of the timeline of evolution itself. 'ationalistslogans and goals distract the workers from their specifically proletarian goals. They divide the workersdifferent nations they provoke the mutual hostility of the workers and thus destroy the necessary unity of proletariat. They line up the workers and the bourgeoisie shoulder to shoulder in one front, thus obscurthe workersO class consciousness and transforming the workers into the executors of bourgeois pol 'ational struggles prevent the assertion of social 2uestions and proletarian interests in politics and condemthis important means of struggle of the proletariat to sterility. 1ll of this is encouraged by sociali propaganda when the latter presents nationalist slogans to the workers as valid, regardless of the very goatheir struggle, and when it utili%es the language of nationalism in the description of our socialist goals. indispensable that class feeling and class struggle should be deeply rooted in the minds of the workers ththey will progressively become aware of the unreality and futility of nationalist slogans for their class.

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This is why the nation-/tate as a goal in itself, such as the re-establishment of an independent national /tain ?oland, has no place in socialist propaganda. This is not because a national /tate belonging to th proletariat is of no interest for socialist propaganda purposes. It is a result of the fact that nationalist demaof this kind cause the hatred of exploitation and oppression to easily take the form of nationalist hatredforeign oppressors, as in the case of the foreign rule exercised by <ussia, which protects the ?oliscapitalists, and is pre udicial to the ac2uisition of a lucid class consciousness. The re-establishment of independent ?oland is utopian in the capitalist era. This also applies to the solution of the ?olish 2uesti proposed by Bauer4 national autonomy for the ?oles within the <ussian Empire. 5owever desirable necessary this goal may be for the ?olish proletariat, as long as capitalism reigns the real course

development will not be determined by what the proletariat believes it needs, but by what the ruling clwants. If, however, the proletariat is strong enough to impose its will, the value of such autonomy is thinfinitely minuscule compared with the real value of the proletariatOs class demands, which lead to sociaThe struggle of the ?olish proletariat against the political power under which it really suffers the <ussian?russian or 1ustrian government, as the case may be is condemned to sterility if it assumes the form of anationalist struggle only as a class struggle will it achieve its goal. The only goal which can be achieved which for this reason is imposed as a goal is that of the con2uest, in con unction with the other workersthese /tates, of capitalist political power and the struggle for the advent of socialism. 5ence under socialisthe goal of an independent ?oland no longer makes sense since in that case nothing would prevent all ?olisspeaking individuals from being free to unite in an administrative unit.

These different views are evident in the respective positions of the two ?olish /ocialist ?arties.M00N Bauerinsists that both are ustified, since each of them embodies one facet of the nature of the ?olish workers4 ?.?./., nationalist feeling, the / 8?iH, the international class struggle. This is correct, but incomplete. edo not content ourselves with the very ob ective historical method which proves that all phenomena tendencies can be explained by and derived from natural causes. e must add that one facet of this nature reinforced during the course of development, while another declines. The principle of one of the two paris based on the future, that of the other is based on the past one constitutes the great force of progress, other is a compulsory tradition. This is why the two parties do not represent the same thing for us !arxists who base our principles on the real science of evolution and as revolutionary social democrats whseek what is ours in the class struggle, we must support one party and help it in its struggle against the oth

e spoke above of the lack of value of nationalist slogans for proletariat. But is it not true that certainnationalist demands are also of great importance for the workers, and should the workers not fight for thalongside the bourgeoisie: Is it not true, for example, that national schools, in which the children of t proletariat can receive instruction in their own language, possess a certain value: .or us , such demandsconstitute proletarian demands rather than nationalist demands . $%ech nationalist demands are directedagainst the Germans, while the Germans oppose them. If, however, the $%ech workers were to interthemselves in $%ech schools, a $%ech administrative language, etc., because these things allow themenhance their opportunities for education and to increase their independence in respect to the employers athe authorities, these issues would also be of interest to the German workers, who have every interestseeing their class comrades ac2uire as much force as possible for the class struggle. Therefore, not only $%ech social democrats, but their German comrades as well must demand schools for the $%ech minoand it is of the little importance to the representatives of the proletariat how powerful the German or $%ech JnationJ is, that is, how powerful the German or the $%ech bourgeoisie is within the /tate, which w be strengthened or weakened by this development. The interest of the proletariat must always prevail. If bourgeoisie, for nationalist reasons, were to formulate an identical demand, in practice it will be pursusomething totally different since its goals are not the same. In the schools of the $%ech minority, the workwill encourage the teaching of the German language because this would help their children in their strugfor existence, but the $%ech bourgeoisie will try to prevent them from learning German. The workdemand the most extensive diversity of languages employed in administrative bodies, the nationalists wto suppress foreign languages. +t is onl$ in appearance , then , that the linguistic and cultural demands of the,orkers and those of the nationalists coincide . <roletarian demands are those demands ,hich are common

to the proletariat of all nations .

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%deolog( and "lass Str&ggleThe !arxist tactic of social democracy is based upon the recognition of the real class interests of thworkers. It cannot be led astray by ideologies, even when the latter seem to be rooted in menOs minds. result of its !arxist mode of comprehension, it knows that those ideas and ideologies which apparently dnot have material bases, are by no means supernatural nor are they invested with a spiritual existendisconnected from the corporeal, but are the traditional and established expressions of past class intereThis is why we are certainthat in the face of the enormous densit$ of class interests and real current needs ,even if there is little awareness of them,no ideolog$ rooted in the past , ho,e%er po,erful it ma$ be , canresist for long . This basic concept also determines the form assumed by our struggle against that ideology power.

Those who consider ideas to be autonomous powers in the minds of men, which spontaneously appear or manifested thanks to a strange spiritual influence, can choose one of two ways to win men over to their ngoals4 they can either directly fight the old ideologies, demonstrating their erroneous nature by meanabstract theoretical considerations and in that way attempt to nullify their power over men or they can tryenlist ideology in their cause by presenting their new goals as the conse2uence and the reali%ation of ideas. Het us take the example of religion.

<eligion is the most powerful among the ideologies of the past which dominate the proletariat and are usin an attempt to lead it astray from the united class struggle. $onfused social democrats, who have witnessthe construction of this powerful obstacle to socialism, have tried to fight religion directly and to prove erroneous nature of religious doctrines in the same way previously attempted by bourgeois nationalism in order to shatter their influence. #r, on the other hand, they have tried to present socialism as an improv$hristianity, as the true reali%ation of religious doctrine, and thus to convert $hristian believers to socialiBut these two methods have failed wherever they have been tried theoretical attacks against religion hanot succeeded at all and have reinforced pre udice against socialism similarly, no one has been convinc by ridiculous social democratic attempts to cloak socialism in $hristian attributes, because the traditionwhich men are firmly attached is not ust $hristianity in general, but a particular $hristian doctrine. It wobvious that both of these attempts were destined to fail. /ince the theoretical considerations and debat

which accompanied these attempts focus the mind on abstract religious 2uestions, they detour it away frreal life and reinforce ideological thinking. In general, faith cannot be attacked with theoretical proofs owhen its basis the old conditions of existence has disappeared and a new conception of the world occursto man, will doubts arise concerning doctrines and ancient dogmas. #nly the new reality, which more amore clearly penetrates the mind, can overthrow a faith handed down from generation to generation it is,course, necessary that menOs consciousness should clearly come to grips with this reality. +t is onl$ throughcontact ,ith realit$ that the mind frees itself from the po,er of inherited ideas .

This is why !arxist social democracy would not even in its wildest dreams think of fighting religion witheoretical arguments, or of trying to use religion for its own purposes. Both such approaches would helpartificially preserve received abstract ideas, instead of allowing them to slowly dissipate.ur tactic consistsin making the ,orkers more a,are of their real class interests , sho,ing them the realit$ of this societ$ andits life in order to orient their minds more to,ards the real ,orld of toda$ . Then the old ideas , ,hich nolonger find an$ nourishment in the realit$ of proletariat life , $ield ,ithout being directl$ attacked . hat menthink of theoretical problems is no concern of ours as long as they struggle together with us for the neconomic order of socialism. This is why social democracy never speaks or debates about the existenceGod or religious controversies it only speaks of capitalism, exploitation, class interests, and the need for workers to collectively wage the class struggle. In this way the mind is steered away from secondary ideasthe past in order to focus on present-day reality these ideas of the past are thus deprived of their powerlead the workers astray from the class struggle and the defense of their class interests.

#f course, this cannot be achieved all at once. That which remains petrified within the mind can only bslowly eroded and dissolved under the impact of new forces. 5ow many years passed before large numbeof the $hristian workers of <hineland- estphalia abandoned the 1entrum M07N for social democracy; But thesocial democracy did not allow itself to be led astray it did not try to accelerate the conversion of t

@






$hristian workers by means of concessions to their religious pre udices it was not impatient with tscarcity of its successes, nor did it allow itself to be seduced by anti-religious propaganda. It did not lofaith in the victory of reality over tradition, it clung firmly to principle, it opted for no tactical deviatiwhich would give the illusion of a 2uicker route to success it always opposed ideology with the clastruggle. 1nd now the fruits of its tactic continue to ripen.

It is the same with regard to nationalism, with the sole difference that in dealing with the latter, due to fact that it is a more recent and less petrified ideology, we are less prepared to avoid the error of fightingthe abstract theoretical plane as well as the error of compromise. +n this case as ,ell it suffices for us to put

the accent on the class struggle and to a,aken class feeling in order to turn attention a,a$ from national problems . In this case, too, all our propaganda could appear to be useless against the power of nationaliideologyM09N most of all, it could seem that nationalism is making the most progress among the workers the young nations. Thus, the $hristian trade unions of the <hineland made their greatest gains at the samtime as the /ocial emocracy this could be compared to the phenomenon of national separatism, which is part of the workers movement that concedes more importance to a bourgeois ideology than to the princiof class struggle. But insofar as such movements are in practice capable only of following in the wake of bourgeoisie and thus of arousing the feeling of the working class against them, they will progressively ltheir power.

e would therefore have gone completely off the rails if we wanted to win the working masses over tsocialism by being more nationalist than they are, by yielding to this phenomenon. Thisnationalistopportunism could, at the very most, allow these masses to be won over externally, in appearance, for th party,but this does not ,in them o%er to our cause , to socialist ideas bourgeois conceptions will continue torule their minds as before. 1nd when the decisive moment arrives when they must choose between nationand proletarian interests,the internal ,eakness of this ,orkers mo%ement will become apparent, as iscurrently taking place in the separatist crisis. 5ow can we rally the masses under our banner if we allothem to flock to the banner of nationalism: #ur principle of class struggle can only prevail when the oth principles that manipulate and divide men are rendered ineffective but if our propaganda enhances treputation of those other principles, we subvert our own cause.

1s a result of what has been set forth above, it would be a complete error to want to fight nationalist feelinand slogans. In those cases where the latter are deeply-rooted in peopleOs heads, they cannot be eliminatetheoretical arguments but only by a more powerful reality, which is allowed to act upon the peopleOs miIf one begins to speak about this topic, the mind of the listener is immediately oriented towards the terrainnationalism and can think only in terms of nationalism. It is therefore better not to speak of it at all, noget mixed up in it. To all the nationalist slogans and arguments, the response will be4 exploitation, surpvalue, bourgeoisie, class rule, class struggle. If they speak of their demands for national schools, we shcall attention to the insufficiency of the teaching dispensed to the children of the workers, who learn no mthan what is necessary for their subse2uent life of back-breaking toil at the service of capital. If they speakstreet signs and administrative posts, we will speak of the misery which compels the proletarians to emigrIf they speak of the unity of the nation, we will speak of exploitation and class oppression. If they speak

the greatness of the nation, we will speak of the solidarity of the proletariat of the whole world. #nly whthe great reality of todayOs world capitalist development, exploitation, the class struggle and its final gosocialism has entirely impregnated the minds of the workers, will the little bourgeois ideals of nationalismfade away and disappear.The class struggle and propaganda for socialism comprise the sole effecti%e meansof breaking the po,er of nationalism .

Separatism and Part( +rganizationIn 1ustria after the imberg $ongress, the social democratic party was divided by nationalities, eachnational workers party being autonomous and collaborating with the others on a federalist basis.M0=N Thisseparation of the proletariat by nationalities did not cause ma or inconveniences and was fre2uenconsidered to be the natural organi%ational principle for the workers movement in a country which is profoundly divided by nationalities. But when this separation ceased to be restricted to the politiorgani%ation and was applied to the trade unions under the name of separatism, the danger suddenly bec

D







palpable. The absurdity of a situation where the workers in the same workshop are organi%ed in diffetrade unions and thus stand in the way of the common struggle against the employer is evident. Theworkers constitute a community of interests they can only fight and win as a cohesive mass and therefmust be members of a single organi%ation. The separatists, by introducing the separation of workersnationalities into the trade union, shatter the power of the workers in the same way the $hristian trade unischismatics did and significantly contribute to obstructing the rise of the proletariat.

The separatists know this and can see it as well as we do. hat, then, impels them to take this hostile stanctowards the workers despite the fact that their cause was condemned by an overwhelming ma ority at t

International $ongress at $openhagen:M0@N 3irst of all, the fact that they consider the national principle to beinfinitely superior to the material interests of the workers and the socialist principle. In this case, howevthey make reference to the rulings of another international $ongress, the /tuttgart $ongress *0> +according to whichthe part$ and the trade unions of a countr$ must be intimatel$ linked in a constantcommunit$ of labor and struggle .M0DN 5ow is this possible when the party is articulated by nationality andthe trade union movement is at the same time internationally centrali%ed throughout the /tate: here withe $%ech social democracy find a trade union movement with which it can be intimately linked, if it dnot create its own $%ech trade union movement:

To proceed, as have many German-speaking social democrats in 1ustria, by referring to the total disparity political and trade union struggles as an essential argument in the theoretical struggle against separatismto literally choose the weakest position. There is, of course, no other way out if they want to simultaneoudefend international unity in the trade unions and separation by nationalities in the party. But this argumdoes not produce the sought-after results.

This attitude is derived from the situation which prevailed at the beginning of the workers movement wh both party and trade union had to assert themselves slowly while fighting against the pre udices of tworking masses and when each of them was trying to find its own way4 at that time it seemed that the trunions were only for improving the immediate material conditions, while the party carries out the strugfor the future society, for general ideals and elevated ideas. In reality, both are fighting for immediaimprovements and both are helping to build the power of the proletariat which will make the advent socialism possible. It is ust that, insofar as the political struggle is a general struggle against the ent bourgeoisie, the most distant conse2uences and the most profound bases of the socialist world-view musttaken into account, while in the trade union struggle, in which contemporary issues and immediate interecome to the fore, reference to general principles is not necessary, and could even be harmful to momentunity. But in reality it is the same working class interests which determine the two forms of struggle it is that in the party they are somewhat more enveloped in the form of ideas and principles. But as the movemgrows, and the closer the party and the trade union approach one another, the more they are compelledfight in common. The great trade union struggles become mass movements whose enormous politiimportance makes the whole of social existence tremble. #n the other hand, political struggles assume tdimensions of mass actions which demand the active collaboration of the trade unions. The /tuttgaresolution makes this necessity even more clear. Thus, every attempt to defeat separatism by positing t

total disparity of trade union and political movements is in conflict with reality.The error of separatism, then, lies not in wanting the same organi%ation for the party and the trade uni but in destroying the trade union to accomplish this goal.The root of the contradiction is not found in theunit$ of the trade union mo%ement , but in the di%ision of the political part$ . /eparatism in the trade unionmovement is merely the unavoidable conse2uence of the autonomy of the partyOs national organi%atsince it subordinates the class struggle to the national principle, it is even the ultimate conse2uence of theory which considers nations to be the natural products of humanity and sees socialism in the light of national principle, as the reali%ation of the nation.This is ,h$ one cannot reall$ o%ercome separatism unless ,on all fronts , in tactics , in agitation , in the consciousness of all the comrades , the class struggle rules as the

sole proletarian principle compared to which all national differences are of no importance. The unificatio

of the socialist parties is the only way to resolve the contradiction which has given birth to the separatcrisis and all the harm it has done to the workers movement.







In the section above entitled JThe $ommunity of $lass /truggleJ it was demonstrated how the class struggdevelops on the terrain of the /tate and unifies the workers of all the /tateOs nationalities. It was alconfirmed that during the early days of the socialist party, the center of gravity was still located in tnations. This explains historical developments since then4 from the moment that it began to reach the mathrough its propaganda, the party split up into separate units on the national level which had to adapt to threspective environments, to the situation and specific ways of thinking of each nation, and for that vereason were more or less contaminated by nationalist ideas. The entire workers movement during ascendant phase was stuffed full of bourgeois ideas which it can only slowly rid itself of in the coursedevelopment, through the practice of struggle and increasing theoretical understanding. This bourge

influence on the workers movement, which in other countries has assumed the form of revisionism anarchism, necessarily took the form of nationalism in 1ustria, not only because nationalism is the mo powerful bourgeois ideology, but also because in 1ustria nationalism is opposed to the /tate and th bureaucracy. 'ational autonomy in the party is not only the result of an erroneous yet avoidable resolutioof this or that party congress, but is also a natural form of development, created incrementally by thistorical situation itself.

But when the con2uest of universal suffrage created the terrain for the parliamentary struggle of the modcapitalist /tate, and the proletariat became an important political force, this situation could not last. Then ocould see if the autonomous parties still really comprised one single party *Gesamtpartei +. It was no longer possible to be satisfied with platonic declarations about their unity henceforth a more solidly-groundunity was needed, so that the socialist fractions of the various national parties would submit in practice ain deed to a common will. The political movement has not passed this test in some of its component panationalism still has such deep roots that they feel closer to the bourgeois parties of their nations than to other socialist fractions. This explains a contradiction which is only apparent4 the single party collapsethe precise moment when the new conditions of the political struggle re2uired a real single party, the sounity of the whole 1ustrian proletariat the slack bonds connecting the national groups broke when thegroups were confronted by the pressing need to transform themselves into a solid unity. But it was at same time evident that this absence of the single party could only be temporary.The separatist crisis mustnecessaril$ lead to the appearance of a ne, single part$ that ,ill be the compact political organi#ation ofthe ,hole Austrian ,orking class .

The autonomous national parties are forms from the past which no longer correspond to the new conditiof struggle. The political struggle is the same for all nations and is conducted in one single parliamentKienna there, the $%ech social democrats do not fight against the $%ech bourgeoisie but, together withthe other workers deputies, they fight against the entire 1ustrian bourgeoisie. To this assertion it has beob ected that electoral campaigns are conducted within each nation separately4 the adversaries are therefnot the /tate and its bureaucracy, but the bourgeois parties of each nation. This is correct but the electorcampaign is not, so to speak, any more than an extension of the parliamentary struggle. +t is not the ,ords ,but the deeds of our ad%ersaries , ,hich constitute the material of the electoral campaign , and these deedsare perpetrated in the 9eichsrat they form part of the activity of the 1ustrian parliament. This is why theelectoral campaign coaxes the workers out of their little national worlds it directs their attention to a mugreater institution of domination, a powerful organi%ation of coercion of the capitalist class, which rules lives.

The /tate, which in other times seemed weak and defenseless against the nation, is increasingly asserting power as a conse2uence of the development of large-scale capitalism. The growth ofimperialism , whichdrags the anubian monarchy in its wake, puts increasingly more potent instruments of power into the hanof the /tate for the purposes of international policy, imposes greater military pressure and tax burdens on tmasses, contains the opposition of the national bourgeois parties and completely ignores the workesociopolitical demands. Imperialism had to provide a powerful impulse to the oint class struggle of tworkers in comparison with their struggles, which shake the entire world, which set capital and labagainst each other in a bitter conflict, the goals of national disputes lose all meaning. 1nd it is not to

totally ruled out that the common changes to which the workers are exposed by international politics, aboall the danger of war, will unite the now-divided working masses for a common struggle more 2uickly this generally thought.

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It is true that, as a result of linguistic differences, propaganda and education must be conducted separatelyeach particular nation. The practice of the class struggle must acknowledge nations as groups distinguish by different languages this applies to the party as well as the trade union movement. As organi#ations for struggle , both the part$ and the trade union must be organi#ed in a unitar$ manner on an international scale . .or purposes of propaganda , e6planation , and educational efforts ,hich are also of common concern ,the$ need national organi#ations and structures .

ational $&tonom(Even though we do not get involved in the slogans and watchwords of nationalism and continue to use slogans of socialism, this does not mean that we are pursuing a kind of ostrich policy in regard to natio2uestions. These are, after all, real 2uestions which are of concern to men and which they want to solve. are trying to get the workers to become conscious of the fact that, for them, it is not these 2uestions, bexploitation and the class struggle, which are the most vital and important 2uestions which cast thshadows over everything. But this does not make the other 2uestions disappear and we have to show that are capable of resolving them. /ocial democracy does not ust simply leave men with the promise of thfuture /tate, it also presents in its program of immediate demands the solution it proposes for every one

those 2uestions which constitute the focal points of contemporary struggles. e are not merely attempting tunite the $hristian workers with all the others in the common class struggle, without taking religion inconsideration, but, in our programmatic proposal, <roclamation Concerning the <ri%ate Character of

9eligion , we are also showing them the means to preserve their religious interests more effectively thathrough religious struggles and disputes. In opposition to the power struggles of the $hurches, struggwhich are inherent in their character as organi%ations of domination, we propose the principle of sdetermination and freedom for all men to practice their faith without risk of being harmed by others doing so. This programmatic proposal does not supply the solution for any particular 2uestion, but contain blanket solution insofar as it provides a basis upon which the various 2uestions can be settled at will. removing all public coercion, all necessity for self-defense and dispute is simultaneously removed. <eligio2uestions are eliminated from politics and left to organi%ations that will be created by men of their own

will.#ur position in regard to national 2uestions is similar.The social democratic program of national autonom$offers the practical solution ,hich ,ill depri%e struggles bet,een nations of their raison d'etre . By means ofthe employment of the personal principle instead of the territorial principle, nations will be recogni%eorgani%ations which will be responsible for the care of all the cultural interests of the national commuwithin the borders of the /tate. Each nation thus obtains the legal power to regulate its affairs autonomouseven where it is in the minority. In this way no nation finds itself faced with the permanent obligationcon2uering and preserving this power in the struggle to exercise influence over the /tate. This widefinitively put an end to the struggles between nations which, through endless obstructions, paraly% parliamentary activity and prevent social 2uestions from being addressed. hen the bourgeois partieengage in a free-for-all, without advancing a single step, and find themselves to be helpless before t2uestion of how to get out of this chaos, the social democracy has shown the practical way which permits satisfaction of ustified national desires, without for that reason necessitating mutual harm.

This is not to say that this program has any chance of being implemented. 1ll of us are convinced that o programmatic proclamation of the private character of religion, along with the greater part of our immeddemands, will not be brought to fruition by the capitalist /tate. "nder capitalism, religion is not, as peophave been made to believe, a matter of personal belief if it were, the promoters of religion would have hato adopt and implement our program but is instead a means of rule in the hands of the owning class. 1ndthat class will not renounce the use of that means. 1 similar idea is found in our national program, whiseeks to transform the popular conception of nations into a reality. 'ations are not ust groups of men whhave the same cultural interests and who, for that reason, want to live in peace with other nations they combat organi%ations of the bourgeoisie which are used to gain power within the /tate. Every natio bourgeoisie hopes to extend the territory where it exercises its rule at the expense of its adversaries it

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therefore totally erroneous to think that the bourgeoisie could through its own initiative put an end to thexhausting struggles, ust as it is utterly out of the 2uestion that the capitalist world powers will usher inepoch of eternal world peace, through a sensible settlement of their differences. 3or in 1ustria, the situatiis such that a higher body is available which is capable of intervening4 the /tate, the ruling bureaucracy. Ihoped that the central power of the /tate will be engaged to resolve national differences, because the lattthreaten to tear the /tate apart and impede the regular functioning of the /tate machinery but the /tate halearned how to coexist with national struggles, and has gone so far as to make use of them to reinforce power of the government against the parliament, so that it is no longer at all necessary to do away with th1nd, what is even more important4 the reali%ation of national autonomy, such as the social democr

demands, is based upon democratic self-administration. 1nd this 2uite ustifiably strikes terror into thearts of the feudal and clerical elements of big business and the militarists who rule 1ustria.

But does the bourgeoisie really have an interest in putting an end to national struggles: 'ot at all, it has thgreatest interest in not putting an end to them, especially since the class struggle has reached a high poiAust like religious antagonisms,national antagonisms constitute e6cellent means to di%ide the proletariat , todi%ert its attention from the class struggle ,ith the aid of ideological slogans and to pre%ent its class unit$ .The instinctive aspirations of the bourgeois classes to block the proletariatOs lucid and powerful efftowards unification form an increasingly larger part of bourgeois policy. In countries like England, 5ollanthe "nited /tates, and even Germany *where the conservative party of the =unkers is an exceptional case of asharply-defined class party+, we observe that the struggles between the two ma or bourgeois partiesgenerally between a JliberalJ party and a JconservativeJ or JreligiousJ party are becoming moreembittered, and the war-cries more strident, at the same time that their real conflicts of interest diminish their antagonism consists of ideological slogans handed down from the past. 1nyone with a schematconception of !arxism who wants to see the parties as merely the representatives of the interests o bourgeois groups, is faced with an enigma here4 when one would expect that they would fuse intoreactionary mass to confront the threat of the proletariat, it seems, to the contrary, that the gap between thgrows deeper and wider. The very simple explanation of this phenomenon is that they have instinctiveunderstood that it is impossible to crush the proletariat with force alone and that it is infinitely moimportant to confuse and divide the proletariat with ideological slogans. This is why the national struggle1ustriaOs various bourgeoisies flare up all the more %iolentl$ the less reason there is for their e6istence . Themore closely these gentlemen cooperate to share /tate power, the more furiously they attack one another public debates over issues relating to nationalist trifles. In the past, each bourgeoisie strove to group proletariat of its nation into a compact body in order to mount a more effective battle against its adversarToday, the opposite is taking place4 the struggle against the national enemy must serve to unite t proletariat behind the bourgeois parties and thus impede its international unity. The role played in othcountries by the battle-cry, J ith us for $hristianity;J, J ith us for freedom of conscience;J, by means ofwhich it was hoped that the workersO attention would be diverted from social 2uestions, this role wilincreasingly assumed by national battle-cries in 1ustria. It is in relation to social 2uestions that their claunity and their class antagonism against the bourgeoisie will be asserted.

e do not expect that the practical solution to national disputes we have put forth will ever be implemente precisely because these struggles will no longer have any point. hen Bauer says that Jnational powe politics and proletarian class politics are logically difficult to reconcile psychologically, one excludes tother4 national contradictions can disperse the forces of the proletariat at any moment the national strugrenders the class struggle impossible. The centralist-atomist constitution, which makes the national powstruggle inevitable, is therefore intolerable for the proletariatJ *p. 7@7+, he is perhaps partly correct, textent that he helps to provide a basis for our programOs demands. If, however, he means that the natistruggle must first cease so that the class struggle could then take place, he is wrong. It is precisely the fthat we are striving to make national struggles disappear which leads the bourgeoisie to maintain thexistence. But this is not how we will be stopped.The proletarian arm$ is onl$ dispersed b$ nationalantagonisms as long as socialist class consciousness is ,eak . It is after all true that, in the final accounting,the class struggle far surpasses the national 2uestion.The baleful po,er of nationalism ,ill in fact be broken

not b$ our proposal for national autonom$ , ,hose reali#ation does not depend upon us , but solel$ b$ the strengthening of class consciousness .

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It would therefore be incorrect to concentrate all our forces on a Jpositive national policyJ and to staeverything on this one card, the implementation of our national program as a precondition for tdevelopment of the class struggle. This programmatic demand, like most of our practical demands, onserves to show how easily we could resolve these 2uestions if only we had power, and to illustrate, in tlight of the rationality of our solutions, the irrationality of the bourgeois slogans. 1s long as the bourgeoirules, our rational solution will probably remain ust a piece of paper. #ur politics and our agitation can on be directed towards the necessity of always and exclusively carrying out the class struggle, to awaken clconsciousness so that the workers, thanks to a clear understanding of reality, will become inaccessible to slogans of nationalism.

1nton ?annekoek <eichenberg, 0>07

otes2[1] See Les Marxistes et la question nationale, pp. 233-272, as well as Arduino Agnelli, "Le socialisme et la

question des nationalit s c!e #tto $auer", Histoire du marxisme contemporain, %%, 1&'1(, pp. 3))-*&+.ote rom t!e /renc! edition0.

%n nglis!, see #tto $auer, The Question of Nationalities and Social Democracy, tr. osep! # 4onnell,5ni6ersit o 8innesota 9ress, 8inneapolis, 2&&&. All page re erences re er to t!e nglis! language edition.

[2] :!is is w! t!e words "State" and "nation" are used interc!angea;l in <estern urope. :!e State s de;tis called t!e national de;t and t!e interests o t!e State communit are alwa s called national interests.9anne=oe= s note0.

[3] :!e relations!ip ;etween mind and matter !as ;een most clearl set ort! in t!e writings o osep!4iet gen, w!o, ; 6irtue o !is anal sis o t!e p!ilosop!ical oundations o 8ar>ism, well-deser6ed t!e title8ar> ;estowed upon !im? t!e p!ilosop!er o t!e proletariat. 9anne=oe= s note0.

See osep! 4iet gen, L'essence du travail intellectual. crits philosophiques annot!s par Lenin , introducedand translated ; .-9. #sier, 8aspero, 9aris, 1@73 and osep! 4iet gen, "ssence du travail intellectualhumain, translated ; 8. aco;, wit! a 9re ace ; Anton 9anne=oe=, B!amp Li;re, 9aris, 1@73. %n act,8ar> wrote, in a letter dated #cto;er 2(, 1(+( to 8e er and Cogt, concerning 4iet gen? "De is one o t!emost ;rilliant wor=ers % =now" 8ar>- ngels, #er$e , Col. 32, p. )7). As or ngels, !e attri;uted t!eparallel disco6er o t!e materialist dialectic to 4iet gen. ote rom t!e /renc! edition0.

%n nglis!, see osep! 4iet gen, The %ositive &utcome of %hilosophy, translated ; rnest 5ntermann.%ntroduction ; Anton 9anne=oe=. B!arles D. Eerr F Bompan , B!icago, 1@&+ and %hilosophical "ssays,

translated ; 8. $eer and :. Got!stein, B!arles D. Eerr F Bo., B!icago, 1@17.

[*] See t!e arl o $eacons ield $enHamin 4israeli0, Sy il( or the T)o Nations , London, Longman s, Ireenand Bo., 1@13, pp. 7+-77.

[)] o!n Duss 13+@-1*1)0, B ec! re ormer, condemned ; t!e Bouncil o Bonstance and ;urned at t!esta=e. :!e date o !is deat! was long cele;rated in $o!emia as a national and religious !olida . De was alsoa proponent o t!e use o t!e B ec! language.

an Jis=a 6on :rocno6 137&-1*2*0, Dussite leader. #n ul 1*, 1*2&, !e repelled t!e assault o t!e mperorSigismund at 8ount <it=a, near 9rague. A ter !a6ing de eated t!e mperor once more two ears later, !edied o t!e plague in 9ri; slau.

:!e <!ite 8ountain $ila Dora0 is located west o 9rague. :!e ;attle too= place on o6em;er (, 1+2&. :!e9rotestant arm o $o!emia was de eated ; imperial troops. According to $auer s anal sis, t!e de eat at

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<!ite 8ountain, w!ic! eradicated t!e educated elements o t!e B ec! nation, trans ormed t!e latter into a"nation wit!out !istor ".

[+] /erdinand /reiligrat! 1(1&-1(7+0, a poet and one o t!e leaders o t!e democratic part in t!ere6olution o 1(*(, colla;orated wit! 8ar> and ngels on t!e Neue *heinische +eitun,. Dis poems are parto t!e cultural patrimon o social democrac .

[7] Manifesto of the -ommunist %arty, in The Marx "n,els *eader , 2nd dition, ed. Go;ert B. :uc=er, <. <. orton F Bompan , %nc., ew Kor=, 1@7(, p. *(2.

[(] %.e., t!e 5=rainians.

[@] :!e Gussian re6olution spar=ed t!e struggle or uni6ersal su rage in Austria. A ter a large massmo6ement in w!ic! t!e social democrac pla ed t!e leading role at t!e end o 1@&), in anuar 1@&7 t!emperor granted !is appro6al to t!e electoral re orm proposal mandating uni6ersal su rage in t!e territoro Austria w!ic! did not include t!e ot!er part o t!e ;icep!alic monarc! , Dungar or :ransleitania0.

[1&] See /. ngels, Socialism/ 0topian and Scientific, in The Marx "n,els *eader , 2 nd dition, ed. Go;ert B.:uc=er, <. <. orton F Bompan , %nc., ew Kor=, 1@7(, p. +(@.

[11] 9anne=oe= s argument !ere is identical to Gosa Lu>em;urg s. #n t!e da a ter t!e ;eginning o t!e

1@&) re6olution, !owe6er, Gosa Lu>em;urg called or 9olis! autonom wit!in a constitutional Gussianmpire.

:!ese parties later underwent restructurings and trans ormations w!ic! we s!all not discuss !ere ;ecause we are onl pro6iding an e>ample to illustrate t!e t!eoretical positions ta=en ; t!e 6arious groups.9anne=oe= s note0.

:!e 99S split into two ractions. :!e rig!t wing would ta=e power wit! 9ilsuds=i as its leader a ter t!e /irst <orld <ar. :!e le t wing t!e 99S-Le6itsa would merge wit! t!e S4E9iL to orm t!e 9olis! Bommunist9art .

[12] :!e Bat!olic0 Social B!ristian 9art o Ierman .

[13] :!us, in !is re6iew o Strasser s pamp!let #or$er and Nation in Der 1ampf C, @0, #tto $auere>pressed !is dou;t t!at putting t!e accent on t!e proletariat s class interest could !a6e an impact at all int!e ace o t!e glittering attraction o nationalist ideals. 9anne=oe= s note0.

[1*] :!e 1(@7 Bongress o t!e Austrian Social 4emocratic 9art , meeting in Cienna-<im;erg, appro6ed t!estructure since implemented in t!e Austrian social democrac ? a ederation ;ased on t!e nationalitprinciple in order to guarantee t!e autonom and t!e indi6idualit o its si> component national parties.

[1)] :!e 1@1& Bongress o t!e Socialist %nternational at Bopen!agen unanimousl condemned t!e"separatism" o B ec! trade unionism.

[1+] :!e resolution adopted at t!e 1@&7 Stuttgart Bongress o t!e Socialist %nternational particularlstipulated? ":!e proletarian struggle can ;e more e ecti6el conducted and will ;e all t!e more ruit ul t!ecloser t!e relations are ;etween part and trade unions, wit!out compromising t!e necessar unit o t!etrade union mo6ement. :!e Bongress declares t!at it is in t!e interest o t!e wor=ing class t!at, in e6ercountr , t!e closest relations s!ould ;e esta;lis!ed ;etween t!e trade unions and t!e part and t!at t!eserelations s!ould ;e made permanent."

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o e in t#e 3&t&!eIf it were necessary to believe the words of the spokesmen of the bourgeoisie, the working class has worse enemies than the socialists. &3or they speak out against the vices of current society,) they say, & lament the unhappy lot of the workers, but instead of thinking to bringing them immediate assistance thshow the proletarian, in the future, a socialist society that, incidentally, will never be reali%ed. #nly thwho, like us, place themselves on the terrain of the current order and who hold it to be eternal can dedicthemselves with ardor to the improvement, through means of reforms, of the conditions that exist today. 1this is why all of us, liberals and anti-/emites, progressives and $atholic $hristians, we are indefatigablfriends of reform and ceaselessly preoccupied with improving the lot of the workers. 1s for them, socialitake things easy4 instead of putting themselves to work they only give men one consolation4 the future. Tre ect the reforms we propose under the pretext that they are a mockery of worker demands, or they contdispositions so-called hostile to the workers. They take an attitude exclusively negative. 1nd this is entirnatural if all evils could be suppressed within the framework of the current world and if, conse2uently, causes of discontent were to disappear, there would be nothing to do in a future society.)

/ocial-democracy has always easily unmasked the bluff of these friends of the worker. It has said4 &?lea!essieurs, ust once demonstrate %eal for reform; Taken together you are the ma ority in parliament, make the vices of capitalism disappear;) 1nd in order to explain its own position vis-Q-vis reforms it on

had to recall its doctrine, its practice and its program.#ur doctrine tells us that socialism can6t be built on the ruins of the existing society by a revolt of starvi beggars in rags. It can only result from the powerful forward march of an army of organi%ed proletarifighting to con2uer every position, every progress. ?ractice has shown that socialists are the moindefatigable champions of every reform, of every improvement in the interest of the exploited masswhile bourgeois parties always re ect their proposals with the words4 &Impossible; Exaggerated pretensio1nd the proof that these proposals aren6t made by chance with the sole goal of creating popularity, that thare necessarily born of our fundamental concept, is furnished by our program. 1 logical system of reformfor the improvement of the capitalist world can be found there. e propose this program to bourgeois partieto test their reformist ardor. hen all this is reali%ed, then we can talk.

But they don6t want this4 &These are nothing but impossible demands,) they exclaim, & perhaps approfor an ideal society composed only of angels and brothers, but not for our capitalist world of today whmen, differing in properties, talents, and goals pursued, dominated exclusively by egoism, fight amothemselves and must be held in check by a strong political power.) They are wrong in this4 our progrcontains nothing that is incompatible with capitalism. It allows exploitation itself and class oppositionremain in place, and only proposes to suppress, for the proletariat, every excess of oppression adepression, its lack of political rights, its enslavement to the yoke of militarism, the bad education ofchildren, and the senseless waste of its labor power.

Het6s see what there is in these &impossible) demands. In the first position is4 "niversal suffrage, e2ualdirect, its extension to women, proportional representation, the election of magistrates by the people, acommunal autonomy. There is nothing there that is impossible, proof of this being that these demands ha been partially reali%ed in other countries. 'ext comes the general arming of the people, replacing the currmilitarism. 1n infinite number of experiences demonstrate that for the defensive value of a nation the systof militias is as good, and perhaps better, then an army having behind it long training in a barracks. 'othinimpossible could be found in declaring religion &a private affair,) in the amelioration of the education of people, in the establishment of solid udicial guarantees. 1s for progressive taxation of fortunes, with tsuppression of all indirect taxes, these for a long time have been in the program of bourgeois politiciahere could the impossibility possibly reside in the demand for legislation that protects labor, covering thfixing of the work day, the prohibition of child and night labor, the precautions taken for the safety ahygiene of the workers or even a well constituted workers6 insurance.

1s we can see, all of these are immediate demands for the present nothing that supposes a social order oththan the current one.

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e don6t demand the total abolition of armies, for we know that under the capitalist regime wars arsometimes inevitable. e don6t demand higher scientific education for all children instruction serves lifand conditions of the workers in capitalist society only demand a good elementary instruction. e dondemand the extinction of unemployment4 capitalism cannot suppress this principal source of worker pove#ur demands are all made on the terrain of capitalism. But there is more. Their reali%ation alone will tfulfill the fundamental principles of bourgeois society4 the e2uality of rights between all men as sellermerchandise, and the right for the workers to only give their labor power, receiving in exchange the fvalue of that labor power.

/o it can be asked why do the bourgeois parties want to know nothing of these demands, whose reali%atwould be part of normal capitalism. The thing is terribly simple4 socialism6s development also dependthe normal nature of capitalism, its most intimate essence. 'evertheless, of this development as well thwant to hear nothing. They want an abnormal capitalism, unnatural, a capitalism that would be madeendure eternally. To reali%e our immediate demands which would strengthen the working class physicaland mentally, which would put political power in the hands of the ma ority of the nation would be to opethe way to a peaceful and imperceptible passing of society to socialism. 1s the proletariat matures and tmasses become conscious of the causes of their sufferings they could, in expropriating the great monopolof exploitation as well as in reali%ing appropriate and effective social reforms, oppose an ever stron barrier to the power and distress they suffer from, and thus lead capitalism to its ruin.

This is ust what the owning class doesn6t want. This is why it tries to maintain workers in a statedegradation, to leave them ignorant and deprived of political rights, in the senseless illusion that they tforever block evolution. It doesn6t see that the only result they have obtained is that evolution must t place through violent catastrophes. It only thinks of its momentary power.

This is how things are. #ur immediate demands would be 2uite easily reali%able, but they come up agathe obstinate resistance of the dominant class. 1nything, rather than to allow its power and its profits to reduced even a little. Het the oppression, poverty, and in ustice and exploitation that the people suffer frcontinue forever;

e well know that as long as capitalism lasts only a few modifications can be made in it. It6s not our partit6s the bourgeoisie that places the hope of the workers in a future society. It6s as if they said to them4 &Iwant to be happy you have to begin by suppressing capitalism.) It will thus do the contrary of whatdesires. By its reactionary opposition to reforms it pushes the working masses into our ranks and forces thto con2uer via an energetic revolutionary struggle what it isn6t peacefully given.


Sociali4ation

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In the first months following the German revolution in 'ovember 0>0C there arose the cry of Jsociali%atioIt was an expression of the massesO will to give the revolution a social content and not ust remain a chaof persons or a mere transformation of the political system. 8autsky warned against too rapid a sociali%afor which society was not yet ready. The miners put forward sociali%ation as a demand in their strike ( asEnglish miners had recently done. 1 commission of in2uiry into sociali%ation was formed, but secinfluence and the government sabotaged its decisions. 3or the ma ority socialist government, sociali%atioonly a phrase, a means of misleading the workers everyone knows that it has already abandoned the formgoals and principles of socialism. But the Independents remained faithful guardians of the former sociadoctrine they sincerely believe in it with regard to the programme of sociali%ation. Thus it is interestin

study this programme in order to characterise that radical tendency which exists within the social democrof all countries whether alongside the government socialists or in opposition to them. hen workers demansociali%ation they undoubtedly think of socialism, of a socialist society and of the suppression of capitexploitation. e will see whether it has the same meaning for present day socialist leaders. !arx never

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proprietors of the means of production, the interest due on war loans, the tribute due to the capital of Entente powers, we can see that it cannot all be realised, even through more intensive work and a poorer for the proletariat. In the current destruction of the economic life and bodily strength of the masses, timmediate suppression of all parasitism is a pressing need for the rebuilding of society. But even if wdisregard this special state of misery, and if we donOt consider sociali%ation as a measure of the beginnithe proletarian revolution, or as the first step towards socialism, its impossibility becomes apparent as loas the proletariat has still not ac2uired all of its strength. hen the workers awake and rise towards libertand independence, they will put forward demands for the improvement of their lives and working conditioThese improvements will immediately decrease profits. The socialist state may be able to shout at them

work with greater intensity, the opposite will happen however. hen capitalist obligation no longer rulewith an iron fist, the inhuman tension of appalling exploitation will relax, work will slow down, and w become more human. The relation and the profit of enterprises will fall. ithout sociali%ation, privacapitalists would bear the loss, but with the state now having to pay them the former interest, it is tsocialist state which despite the beginnings of the workersO revolution assures them their profit, and wwill bear the loss. It will then retain a choice, either to oppose demands, suppress strikes and becomgovernment violent on behalf of capital and against the proletariat, or else to fall into inevitable sta bankruptcy. The bourgeoisie will then once again shout aloud its triumph, for the impossibility Jsociali%ing J will have been demonstrated in practice. This will be the result of a crafty attempt to lead kind of socialism while avoiding class struggle. 1 sociali%ation which wants to spare the profits of bourgeoisie cannot be a way towards socialism. There is no other way than to suppress exploitation andthat end conduct an implacable class struggle.

He ?hare 'o , 0st !arch 0>7 .

5OR6D REVO6 TION AND )O NIST TA)TI)S 81922

1'T#' ?1''E8#E8

P&/lication details

This text was originally published in e 'ieuwe Ti d in 0>7 , in 8ommunismus, the Kienna-based$omintern theoretical organ for /outh-East Europe in ?etrograd under the title ie Entwicklung dereltrevolution and die Taktik des $ommunismus, and as a pamphlet including the O1fterwordO by the Kerder 1rbeiterbuchhandlung, the publishing house of the $ommunist ?arty of 1ustria.

This translation by .1./mart was first published in J?annekoek and GorterOs !arxismJ *?luto, Hondon0> C+. The starred footnotes are from the original text. The numbered footnotes are from the 0> C edition

Theory itself becomes a material force once it takes a hold on the masses. Theory is capable of taking a hon the masses... once it becomes radical. 8arl !arx

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The transformation of capitalism into communism is brought about by two forces, one material and the otmental, the latter having its origins in the former. The material development of the economy generaconsciousness, and this activates the will to revolution. !arxist science, arising as a function of the genertendencies of capitalist development, forms first the theory of the socialist party and subse2uently that of

communist party, and it endows the revolutionary movement with a profound and vigorous intellectunity. hile this theory is gradually penetrating one section of the proletariat, the massesO own experiencare bound to foster practical recognition that capitalism is no longer viable to an increasing extent. orlwar and rapid economic collapse now make revolution ob ectively necessary before the masses have grasp

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communism intellectually 4 and this contradiction is at the root of the contradictions, hesitations and setbawhich make the revolution a long and painful process. 'evertheless, theory itself now gains new momentuand rapidly takes a hold on the masses but both these processes are inevitably held up by the practic problems which have suddenly risen up so massively.

1s far as estern Europe is concerned, the development of the revolution is mainly determined by twoforces 4 the collapse of the capitalist economy and the example of /oviet <ussia. The reasons why t proletariat was able to achieve victory so 2uickly and with such relative ease in <ussia -- the weakness of bourgeoisie, the alliance with the peasantry, the fact that the revolution took place during the war -- need

be elaborated here. The example of a state in which working people are the rulers, where they have abolishcapitalism and are engaged in building communism, could not but make a great impression upon t proletariat of the entire world. #f course, this example would not in itself have been sufficient to spur tworkers in other countries on to proletarian revolution. The human mind is most strongly influenced by effects of its own material environment so that if indigenous capitalism had retained all its old strength, news from far-away <ussia would have made little impression. O3ull of respectful admiration, but in a tim petty-bourgeois way, without the courage to save themselves, <ussia and humanity as a whole by takiactionO this was how the masses struck <utgers M0N upon his return to estern Europe from <ussia. hen war came to an end, everyone here hoped for a rapid upturn in the economy, and a lying press depict<ussia as a place of chaos and barbarism and so the masses bided their time. But since then, the opposhas come about 4 chaos has spread in the traditional home of civilisation, while the new order in <ussishowing increasing strength. 'ow the masses are stirring here as well.

Economic collapse is the most powerful spur to revolution. Germany and 1ustria are already completeshattered and pauperised economically, Italy and 3rance are in inexorable decline. England has suffered badly that it is doubtful whether its governmentOs vigorous attempts at reconstruction can avert collapsein 1merica the first threatening signs of crisis are appearing. 1nd in each country, more or less in this samorder, unrest is growing in the masses they are struggling against impoverishment in great strike-movemewhich hit the economy even harder these struggles are gradually developing into a conscious revolutionastruggle, and, without being communists by conviction, the masses are more and more following the pwhich communism shows them, for practical necessity is driving them in that direction.

ith the growth of this necessity and mood, carried by them, so to speak, the communist vanguard has beedeveloping in these countries this vanguard recognises the goals clearly and regroups itself in the ThInternational. The distinguishing feature of this developing process of revolution is a sharp separationcommunism from socialism, in both ideological and organisational terms. This separation is most markedthe countries of $entral Europe precipitated into economic crisis by the Treaty of Kersailles, where a socidemocratic regime was necessary to save the bourgeois state. The crisis is so profound and irremediabthere that the mass of radical social-democratic workers, the "/?, are pressing for affiliation to !oscow,although they still largely hold to the old social-democratic methods, traditions, slogans and leaders. In Itthe entire social-democratic party has oined the Third International a militant revolutionary mood amothe masses, who are engaged in constant small-scale warfare against government and bourgeoisie, permitsto overlook the theoretical mixture of socialist, syndicalist and communist perspectives. In 3rancommunist groups have only recently detached themselves from the social-democratic party and the tradunion movement, and are now moving towards the formation of a communist party. In England, t profound effect of the war upon the old, familiar conditions has generated a communist movement, as consisting of several groups and parties of different origins and new organisational formations. In 1meritwo communist parties have detached themselves from the /ocial- emocratic ?arty, while the latter has alsaligned itself with !oscow.

/oviet <ussiaOs unexpected resilience to the onslaughts of reaction has both compelled the Ententenegotiate and also made a new and powerful impression upon the labour parties of the est. The /econdInternational is breaking up a general movement of the centre groups towards !oscow has set in under th

impulsion of the growing revolutionary mood of the masses. These groups have adopted the new namecommunists without their former perspectives having greatly altered, and they are transferring tconceptions and methods of the old social democrats into the new international. 1s a sign that thecountries have now become more ripe for revolution, a phenomenon precisely opposite to the original on

CC



now appearing 4 with their entry into the Third International or declaration in favour of its principles, athe case of the "/? mentioned above, the sharp distinction between communists and social democrats ionce again fading. hatever attempts are made to keep such parties formally outside the Third Internationin an effort to conserve some firmness of principle, they nevertheless insinuate themselves into tleadership of each countryOs revolutionary movement, maintaining their influence over the militant ma by paying lip-service to the new slogans. This is how every ruling stratum behaves 4 rather than allow itto be cut off from the masses, it becomes OrevolutionaryO itself, in order to deflate the revolution as possible by its influence. 1nd many communists tend to see only the increased strength thus accruing to and not also the increase in vulnerability.

ith the appearance of communism and the <ussian example, the proletarian revolution seemed to havgained a simple, straightforward form. In reality, however, the various difficulties now being encounterare revealing the forces which make it an extremely complex and arduous process.

Notes

M0N The tribunist /. A. <utgers attended the 3irst $ongress of the $omintern and returned to 1msterdamlate 0>0> to establish the estern European 1uxiliary Bureau of the Third International there. 5e may welhave been the author of the left orientated article on parliamentary and trade-union tactics in the sole issuethe BureauOs Bulletin, which resulted in its funds being abruptly fro%en by !oscow. Mtranslators noteN

II

Issues and the solutions to them, programmes and tactics, do not spring from abstract principles, but are odetermined by experience, by the real practice of life. The communistsO conceptions of their goal and of it is to be attained must be elaborated on the basis of previous revolutionary practice, as they always ha been. The <ussian revolution and the course which the German revolution has taken up to this porepresent all the evidence so far available to us as to the motive forces, conditions and forms of t proletarian revolution.

The <ussian revolution brought the proletariat political control in so astonishingly rapid an upturn thatook estern European observers completely by surprise at the time, and although the reasons for it arclearly identifiable, it has come to seem more and more astonishing in view of the difficulties that we now experiencing in estern Europe. Its initial effect was inevitably that in the first flush of enthusiasm, thdifficulties facing the revolution in estern Europe were underestimated. Before the eyes of the worl proletariat, the <ussian revolution unveiled the principles of the new order in all the radiance and puritytheir power -- the dictatorship of the proletariat, the soviet system as a new mode of democracy, treorganisation of industry, agriculture and education. In many respects, it gave a picture of the nature acontent of the proletarian revolution so simple, clear and comprehensive, so idyllic one might almost sthat nothing could seem easier than to follow this example. 5owever, the German revolution has shown ththis was not so simple, and the forces which came to the fore in Germany are by and large at wothroughout the rest of Europe.

hen German imperialism collapsed in 'ovember 0>0C, the working class was completely unprepared forthe sei%ure of power. /hattered in mind and spirit by the four years of war and still caught up in socidemocratic traditions, it was unable to achieve clear recognition of its task within the first few weeks, wgovernmental authority had lapsed the intensive but brief period of communist propaganda could ncompensate for this lack. The German bourgeoisie had learnt more from the <ussian example than t

proletariat decking itself out in red in order to lull the workersO vigilance, it immediately began to rebuilorgans of its power. The workersO councils voluntarily surrendered their power to the leaders of the /ocemocratic ?arty and the democratic parliament. The workers still bearing arms as soldiers disarmed not th

bourgeoisie, but themselves the most active workersO groups were crushed by newly formed white guaC>



and the bourgeoisie was formed into armed civil militias. ith the connivance of the trade-unionleaderships, the now defenceless workers were little by little robbed of all the improvements in workiconditions won in the course of the revolution. The way to communism was thus blocked with barbed-wentanglements to secure the survival of capitalism, to enable it to sink ever deeper into chaos, that is.

These experiences gained in the course of the German revolution cannot, of course, be automatically applto the other countries of estern Europe the development of the revolution will follow still other coursethere. ?ower will not suddenly fall into the hands of the unprepared masses as a result of politico-militacollapse the proletariat will have to fight hard for it, and will thus have attained a higher degree of matur

when it is won. hat happened at fever-pace in Germany after the 'ovember revolution is already taking place more 2uietly in other countries 4 the bourgeoisie is drawing the conse2uences of the <ussirevolution, making military preparations for civil war and at the same time organising the political deceptof the proletariat by means of social democracy. But in spite of these differences, the German revolutishows certain general characteristics and offers certain lessons of general significance. It has madeapparent that the revolution in estern Europe will be a slow, arduous process and revealed what forces arresponsible for this. The slow tempo of revolutionary development in estern Europe, although onlyrelative, has given rise to a clash of conflicting tactical currents. In times of rapid revolutionadevelopment, tactical differences are 2uickly overcome in action, or else do not become conscious intens principled agitation clarifies peopleOs minds, and at the same time the masses flood in and political acoverturns old conceptions. hen a period of external stagnation sets in, however when the masses leanything pass without protest and revolutionary slogans no longer seem able to catch the imagination whdifficulties mount up and the adversary seems to rise up more colossal with each engagement when t$ommunist ?arty remains weak and experiences only defeats -- then perspectives diverge, new courses action and new tactical methods are sought. There then emerge two main tendencies, which can brecognised in every country, for all the local variations. The one current seeks to revolutionise and clar peopleOs minds by word and deed, and to this end tries to pose the new principles in the sharpest poscontrast to the old, received conceptions. The other current attempts to draw the masses still on the sideliinto practical activity, and therefore emphasises points of agreement rather than points of difference in attempt to avoid as far as is possible anything that might deter them. The first strives for a clear, shaseparation among the masses, the second for unity the first current may be termed the radical tendency, tsecond the opportunist one. Given the current situation in estern Europe, with the revolution encounterin powerful obstacles on the one hand and the /oviet "nionOs staunch resistance to the Entente governmenefforts to overthrow it making a powerful impression upon the masses on the other, we can expect a greainflux into the Third International of workersO groups until now undecided and as a result, opportunismdoubtless become a powerful force in the $ommunist International.

#pportunism does not necessarily mean a pliant, conciliatory attitude and vocabulary, nor radicalism a moacerbic manner on the contrary, lack of clear, principled tactics is all too often concealed in rabidly stridlanguage and indeed, in revolutionary situations, it is characteristic of opportunism to suddenly set all hopes on the great revolutionary deed. Its essence lies in always considering the immediate 2uestions, nwhat lies in the future, and to fix on the superficial aspects of phenomena rather than seeing the determindeeper bases. hen the forces are not immediately ade2uate for the attainment of a certain goal, it tends tmake for that goal by another way, by roundabout means, rather than strengthen those forces. 3or its goaimmediate success, and to that it sacrifices the conditions for lasting success in the future. It see ustification in the fact that by forming alliances with other OprogressiveO groups and by making conceto outdated conceptions, it is often possible to gain power or at least split the enemy, the coalition capitalist classes, and thus bring about conditions more favourable for the struggle. But power in such caalways turns out to be an illusion, personal power exercised by individual leaders and not the power of proletarian class this contradiction brings nothing but confusion, corruption and conflict in its wa$on2uest of governmental power not based upon a working class fully prepared to exercise its hegemowould be lost again, or else have to make so many concessions to reactionary forces that it would inwardly spent. 1 split in the ranks of the class hostile to us -- the much vaunted slogan of reformism

would not affect the unity of the inwardly united bourgeoisie, but would deceive, confuse and weaken proletariat. #f course it can happen that the communist vanguard of the proletariat is obliged to take ov political power before the normal conditions are met but only what the masses thereby gain in terms

>



clarity, insight, solidarity and autonomy has lasting value as the foundation of further development towacommunism.

The history of the /econd International is full of examples of this policy of opportunism, and they a beginning to appear in the Third. It used to consist in seeking the assistance of non-socialist workersO gror other classes to attain the goal of socialism. This led to tactics becoming corrupted, and finally to collapThe situation of the Third International is now fundamentally different for that period of 2uiet capitadevelopment is over when social democracy in the best sense of the word could do nothing more th prepare for a future revolutionary epoch by fighting confusion with principled policies. $apitalism is n

collapsing the world cannot wait until our propaganda has won a ma ority to lucid communist insight masses must intervene, and as rapidly as possible, if they themselves and the world are to be saved frocatastrophe. hat can a small party, however principled, do when what is needed are the masses : Is notopportunism, with its efforts to gather the broadest masses 2uickly, dictated by necessity :

1 revolution can no more be made by a big mass party or coalition of different parties than by a smaradical party. It breaks out spontaneously among the masses action instigated by a party can sometimtrigger it off * a rare occurrence +, but the determining forces lie elsewhere, in the psychological factors din the unconscious of the masses and in the great events of world politics. The function of a revolution party lies in propagating clear understanding in advance, so that throughout the masses there will elements who know what must be done and who are capable of udging the situation for themselves. 1ndthe course of revolution the party has to raise the programme, slogans and directives which tspontaneously acting masses recognise as correct because they find that they express their own aims in thmost ade2uate form and hence achieve greater clarity of purpose it is thus that the party comes to lead struggle. /o long as the masses remain inactive, this may appear to be an unrewarding tactic but clarity principle has an implicit effect on many who at first hold back, and revolution reveals its active powergiving a definite direction to the struggle. If, on the other hand, it has been attempted to assemble a lar party by watering down principles, forming alliances and making concessions, then this enables confuelements to gain influence in times of revolution without the masses being able to see through theinade2uacy. $onformity to traditional perspectives is an attempt to gain power without the revolution ideas that is the precondition of doing so its effect is therefore to hold back the course of revolution. Italso doomed to failure, for only the most radical thinking can take a hold on the masses once they engagerevolution, while moderation only satisfies them so long as the revolution has yet to be made. 1 revolutisimultaneously involves a profound upheaval in the massesO thinking it creates the conditions for this, aitself conditioned by it leadership in the revolution thus falls to the $ommunist ?arty by virtue of the wortransforming power of its unambiguous principles.

In contrast with the strong, sharp emphasis on the new principles -- soviet system and dictatorship -- whdistinguish communism from social democracy, opportunism in the Third International relies as far possible upon the forms of struggle taken over from the /econd International. 1fter the <ussian revolutiohad replaced parliamentary activity with the soviet system and built up the trade-union movement on basis of the factory, the first impulse in estern Europe was to follow this example. The $ommunist ?artyof Germany boycotted the elections for the 'ational 1ssembly and campaigned for immediate or graduaorganisational separation from the trade unions. hen the revolution slackened and stagnated in 0>0>however, the $entral $ommittee of the 8? introduced a different tactic which amounted to opting for parliamentarianism and supporting the old trade-union confederations against the industrial unions. Tmain argument behind this is that the $ommunist ?arty must not lose the leadership of the masses, who sthink entirely in parliamentary terms, who are best reached through electoral campaigns and parliamentspeeches, and who, by entering the trade unions en masse, have increased their membership to seven milliThe same thinking is to be seen in England in the attitude of the B/? 4 they do not want to break with tHabour ?arty, although it belongs to the /econd International, for fear of losing contact with the mass trade-unionists. These arguments are most sharply formulated and marshalled by our friend 8arl <adewhose evelopment of the orld <evolution and the Tasks of the $ommunist ?arty, written in prison in

Berlin, may be regarded as the programmatic statement of communist opportunism. M7N 5ere it is arguedthe proletarian revolution in estern Europe will be a long drawn-out process, in which communism shouluse every means of propaganda, in which parliamentary activity and the trade-union movement will remthe principal weapons of the proletariat, with the gradual introduction of workersO control as a new ob ec

>0



1n examination of the foundations, conditions and difficulties of the proletarian revolution in esternEurope will show how far this is correct.

Notes

M7N ?annekoek is here confusing the titles of two texts written by <adek while in prison 4 The evelopmof the German <evolution and the Tasks of the $ommunist ?arty, written before the 5eidelberg congressand The evelopment of the orld <evolution and the Tactics of the $ommunist ?arties in the /truggle for

the ictatorship of the ?roletariat, written after it. The latter is meant. Mtranslators noteN III

It has repeatedly been emphasised that the revolution will take a long time in estern Europe because th bourgeoisie is so much more powerful here than in <ussia. Het us analyse the basis of this power. oes it lin their numbers : The proletarian masses are much more numerous. oes it lie in the bourgeoisieOs mastover the whole of economic life : This certainly used to be an important power-factor but their hegemonyfading, and in $entral Europe the economy is completely bankrupt. oes it lie in their control of the statwith all its means of coercion : $ertainly, it has always used the latter to hold the proletariat down, whichwhy the con2uest of state power was the proletariatOs first ob ective. But in 'ovember 0>0C, state powslipped from the nerveless grasp of the bourgeoisie in Germany and 1ustria, the coercive apparatus of tstate was completely paralysed, the masses were in control and the bourgeoisie was nevertheless able build this state power up again and once more sub ugate the workers. This proves that the bourgeoi possessed another hidden source of power which had remained intact and which permitted it to re-establits hegemony when everything seemed shattered. This hidden power is the bourgeoisieOs ideological hover the proletariat. Because the proletarian masses were still completely governed by a bourgeois mentalthey restored the hegemony of the bourgeoisie with their own hands after it had collapsed. M9N

The German experience brings us face to face with the ma or problem of the revolution in estern EuropeIn these countries, the old bourgeois mode of production and the centuries-old civilisation which hdeveloped with it have completely impressed themselves upon the thoughts and feelings of the popumasses. 5ence, the mentality and inner character of the masses here is 2uite different from that in thcountries of the East, who have not experienced the rule of bourgeois culture and this is what distinguishthe different courses that the revolution has taken in the East and the est. In England, 3rance, 5ollandItaly, Germany and /candinavia, there has been a powerful burgher class based on petty-bourgeois an primitive capitalist production since the !iddle 1ges as feudalism declined, there also grew up in thcountryside an e2ually powerful independent peasant class, in which the individual was also master in own small business. Bourgeois sensibilities developed into a solid national culture on this foundatio particularly in the maritime countries of England and 3rance, which took the lead in capitalist developmeIn the nineteenth century, the sub ection of the whole economy to capital and the inclusion of the mooutlying farms into the capitalist world-trade system enhanced and refined this national culture, and t psychological propaganda of press, school and church drummed it firmly into the heads of the masses, bthose whom capital proletarianised and attracted into the cities and those it left on the land. This is true only of the homelands of capitalism, but also, albeit in different forms, of 1merica and 1ustralia, wherEuropeans founded new states, and of the countries of $entral Europe, Germany, 1ustria, Italy, which hauntil then stagnated, but where the new surge of capitalist development was able to connect with an o backward, small-peasant economy and a petty-bourgeois culture. But when capitalism pressed into tcountries of Eastern Europe, it encountered very different material conditions and traditions. 5ere, in <uss?oland, 5ungary, even in Germany east of the Elbe, there was no strong bourgeois class which had londominated the life of the spirit the latter was determined by primitive agricultural conditions, with larscale landed property, patriarchal feudalism and village communism. 5ere, therefore, the masses related

communism in a more primitive, simple, open way, as receptive as blank paper. estern European sociademocrats often expressed derisive astonishment that the OignorantO <ussians could claim to be the vanof the new world of labour. <eferring to these social democrats, an English delegate at the communconference in 1msterdam M=N pointed up the difference 2uite correctly 4 the <ussians may be more ign

>7



but the English workers are stuffed so full of pre udices that it is harder to propagate communism amothem. These Opre udicesO are only the superficial, external aspect of the bourgeois mentality which satthe ma ority of the proletariat of England, estern Europe and 1merica.

The entire content of this mentality is so many-sided and complex in its opposition to the proletaricommunist worldview that it can scarcely be summarised in a few sentences. Its primary characteristicindividualism, which has its origins in earlier petty-bourgeois and peasant forms of labour and ongradually gives way to the new proletarian sense of community and of the necessity of accepting discipl-- this characteristic is probably most pronounced in the bourgeoisie and proletariat of the 1nglo-/axo

countries. The individualOs perspective is limited to his work-place, instead of embracing society as a whso absolute does the principle of the division of labour seem, that politics itself, the government of the whof society, is seen not as everybodyOs business, but as the monopoly of a ruling stratum, the speciali province of particular experts, the politicians. ith its centuries of material and intellectual commerce, itliterature and art, bourgeois culture has embedded itself in the proletarian masses, and generates a feelingnational solidarity, anchored deeper in the unconscious than external indifference or superficiinternationalism suggest this can potentially express itself in national class solidarity, and greatly hindinternational action.

Bourgeois culture exists in the proletariat primarily as a traditional cast of thought. The masses caught upit think in ideological instead of real terms 4 bourgeois thought has always been ideological. But tideology and tradition are not integrated the mental reflexes left over from the innumerable class struggof former centuries have survived as political and religious systems of thought which separate the o bourgeois world, and hence the proletarians born of it, into groups, churches, sects, parties, dividaccording to their ideological perspectives. The bourgeois past thus also survives in the proletariat as organisational tradition that stands in the way of the class unity necessary for the creation of the new worin these archaic organisations the workers make up the followers and adherents of a bourgeois vanguard. Ithe intelligentsia which supplies the leaders in these ideological struggles. The intelligentsia -- priesteachers, literati, ournalists, artists, politicians -- form a numerous class, the function of which is to fosdevelop and propagate bourgeois culture it passes this on to the masses, and acts as mediator between hegemony of capital and the interests of the masses. The hegemony of capital is rooted in this grouintellectual leadership of the masses. 3or even though the oppressed masses have often rebelled againcapital and its agencies, they have only done so under the leadership of the intelligentsia and the fisolidarity and discipline won in this common struggle subse2uently proves to be the strongest support of system once these leaders openly go over to the side of capitalism. Thus, the $hristian ideology of tdeclining petty bourgeois strata, which had become a living force as an expression of their struggle agaithe modern capitalist state, often proved its worth subse2uently as a reactionary system that bolstered up state, as with $atholicism in Germany after the 8ulturkampf. M@N espite the value of its theoretcontribution, much the same is true of the role played by social democracy in destroying and extinguishold ideologies in the rising work-force, as history demanded it should do 4 it made the proletarian masmentally dependent upon political and other leaders, who, as specialists, the masses left to manage all timportant matters of a general nature affecting the class, instead of themselves taking them in hand. The fsolidarity and discipline which developed in the often acute class struggles of half a century did not bucapitalism, for it represented the power of leadership and organisation over the masses and in 1ugust 0>and 'ovember 0>0C these made the masses helpless tools of the bourgeoisie, of imperialism and of reactioThe ideological power of the bourgeois past over the proletariat means that in many of the countriesestern Europe, in Germany and 5olland, for example, it is divided into ideologically opposed groupswhich stand in the way of class unity. /ocial democracy originally sought to realise this class unity, b partly due to its opportunist tactics, which substituted purely political policies for class politics, it wunsuccessful in this 4 it merely increased the number of groups by one.

In times of crisis when the masses are driven to desperation and to action, the hegemony of bourgeoideology over the masses cannot prevent the power of this tradition temporarily flagging, as in Germany

'ovember 0>0C. But then the ideology comes to the fore again, and turns temporary victory into defeat. Tconcrete forces which in our view make up the hegemony of bourgeois conceptions can be seen at workthe case of Germany 4 in reverence for abstract slogans like OdemocracyO in the power of old habthought and programme-points, such as the realisation of socialism through parliamentary leaders and

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socialist government in the lack of proletarian self-confidence evidenced by the effect upon the massesthe barrage of filthy lies published about <ussia in the massesO lack of faith in their own power but aball, in their trust in the party, in the organisation and in the leaders who for decades had incarnated thstruggle, their revolutionary goals, their idealism. The tremendous mental, moral and material power of organisations, these enormous machines painstakingly created by the masses themselves with years of effowhich incarnated the tradition of the forms of struggle belonging to a period in which the labour movemwas a limb of ascendant capital, now crushed all the revolutionary tendencies once more flaring up in masses.

This example will not remain uni2ue. The contradiction between the rapid economic collapse of capitaliand the immaturity of spirit represented by the power of bourgeois tradition over the proletariat --contradiction which has not come about by accident, in that the proletariat cannot achieve the maturityspirit re2uired for hegemony and freedom within a flourishing capitalism -- can only be resolved by process of revolutionary development, in which spontaneous uprisings and sei%ures of power alternate wsetbacks. It makes it very improbable that the revolution will take a course in which the proletariat for a lotime storms the fortress of capital in vain, using both the old and new means of struggle, until it eventuacon2uers it once and for all and the tactics of a long drawn-out and carefully engineered siege posed<adekOs schema thus fall through. The tactical problem is not how to win power as 2uickly as possibsuch power will be merely illusory -- this is only too easy an option for the communists -- but how the bof lasting class power is to be developed in the proletariat. 'o Oresolute minorityO can resolve the problwhich can only be resolved by the action of the class as a whole and if the populace allows such a sei%ur power to take place over its head with apparent indifference, it is not, for all that, a genuinely passive ma but is capable, in so far as it has not been won over to communism, of rounding upon the revolution at amoment as the active follower of reaction. 1nd a Ocoalition with the gallows on handO would do no moredisguise an untenable party dictatorship of this kind. MDN hen a tremendous uprising of the proletadestroys the bankrupt rule of the bourgeoisie, and the $ommunist ?arty, the clearest vanguard of th proletariat, takes over political control, it has only one task -- to eradicate the sources of weakness in proletariat by all possible means and to strengthen it so that it will be fully e2ual to the revolutionstruggles that the future holds in store. This means raising the masses themselves to the highest pitchactivity, whipping up their initiative, increasing their self-confidence, so that they themselves will be ablerecognise the tasks thrust upon them, for it is only thus that the latter can be successfully carried out. Tmakes it necessary to break the domination of traditional organisational forms and of the old leaders, andno circumstances to oin them in a coalition government to develop the new forms, to consolidate tmaterial power of the masses only in this way will it be possible to reorganise both production and defenagainst the external assaults of capitalism, and this is the precondition of preventing counter-revolution.

/uch power as the bourgeoisie still possesses in this period resides in the proletariatOs lack of autonomy independence of spirit. The process of revolutionary development consists in the proletariat emancipatitself from this dependence, from the traditions of the past -- and this is only possible through its owexperience of struggle. here capitalism is already an institution of long standing and the workers have thualready been struggling against it for several generations, the proletariat has in every period had to buildmethods, forms and aids to struggle corresponding to the contemporary stage of capitalist development, these have soon ceased to be seen as the temporary expedients that they are, and instead idolised as lastiabsolute, perfect forms they have thus subse2uently become fetters upon development which had to broken. hereas the class is caught up in constant upheaval and rapid development, the leaders remain at particular stage, as the spokesmen of a particular phase, and their tremendous influence can hold back movement forms of action become dogmas, and organisations are raised to the status of ends in themselvmaking it all the more difficult to reorientate and readapt to the changed conditions of struggle. This sapplies every stage of the development of the class struggle must overcome the traditions of previous staif it is to be capable of recognising its own tasks clearly and carrying them out effectively -- except tdevelopment is now proceeding at a far faster pace. The revolution thus develops through the processinternal struggle. It is within the proletariat itself that the resistances develop which it must overcome and

overcoming them, the proletariat overcomes its own limitations and matures towards communism.Notes

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M9N The following paragraph is 2uoted up to Ovillage communismO by Gorter in his #pen Hetter to $Henin. Mtranslators noteN

M=N The conference in 2uestion was convened to set up the 1uxiliary Bureau. Mtranslators noteN

M@N The first trade-union organisations in the late 0CD s in the <uhr were the work of $atholic priests. late seventies, however, Bismarck dropped his campaign against $atholicism and its political representatithe Pentrum * the forerunner of the $ " +, for the sake of a united front against the /ocial- emocratic?arty. Mtranslators noteN

MDN This expression had been used to ustify the collaboration with the socialists in the $ommune of 5unwhich the former 5ungarian $ommunist ?arty leaders controlling 8ommunismus blamed for its collapse i1ugust 0>0>. In OHeft ingO $ommunism Henin urges the British $ommunists to campaign for the Hab?arty where they have no candidate of their own they will thus Osupport 5enderson as the rope supporhanged manO, and the impending establishment of a government of 5endersons will hasten the latt political demise. * ?eking edition, pp.> ->0. + Mtranslators noteN IV

?arliamentary activity and the trade-union movement were the two principal forms of struggle in the timethe /econd International.

The congresses of the first International orking-!enOs 1ssociation laid the basis of this tactic by takingissue with primitive conceptions belonging to the pre-capitalist, petty-bourgeois period and, in accordanwith !arxOs social theory, defining the character of the proletarian class struggle as a continuous strugglethe proletariat against capitalism for the means of subsistence, a struggle which would lead to the con2uof political power. hen the period of bourgeois revolutions and armed uprisings had come to a close, thi political struggle could only be carried on within the framework of the old or newly created national staand trade-union struggle was often sub ect to even tighter restrictions. The 3irst International was theref bound to break up and the struggle for the new tactics, which it was itself unable to practise, burst it apmeanwhile, the tradition of the old conceptions and methods of struggle remained alive amongst tanarchists. The new tactics were be2ueathed by the International to those who would have to put them i practice, the trade unions and /ocial- emocratic ?arties which were springing up on every hand. hen the/econd International arose as a loose federation of the latter, it did in fact still have to combat tradition in tform of anarchism but the legacy of the 3irst International already formed its undisputed tactical baToday, every communist knows why these methods of struggle were necessary and productive at that timwhen the working class is developing within ascendant capitalism, it is not yet capable of creating orgwhich would enable it to control and order society, nor can it even conceive the necessity of doing so.must first orientate itself mentally and learn to understand capitalism and its class rule. The vanguard of proletariat, the /ocial- emocratic ?arty, must reveal the nature of the system through its propaganda andshow the masses their goals by raising class demands. It was therefore necessary for its spokesmen to enthe parliaments, the centres of bourgeois rule, in order to raise their voices on the tribunes and take partconflicts between the political parties.

!atters change when the struggle of the proletariat enters a revolutionary phase. e are not here concernedwith the 2uestion of why the parliamentary system is inade2uate as a system of government for the masand why it must give way to the soviet system, but with the utilisation of parliament as a means of strug by the proletariat. M N 1s such, parliamentary activity is the paradigm of struggles in which only the leaare actively involved and in which the masses themselves play a subordinate role. It consists in individdeputies carrying on the main battle this is bound to arouse the illusion among the masses that others cantheir fighting for them. ?eople used to believe that leaders could obtain important reforms for the workers

parliament and the illusion even arose that parliamentarians could carry out the transformation to sociali by acts of parliament. 'ow that parliamentarianism has grown more modest in its claims, one hears thargument that deputies in parliament could make an important contribution to communist propaganda. MBut this always means that the main emphasis falls on the leaders, and it is taken for granted that special

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will determine policy -- even if this is done under the democratic veil of debates and resolutions congresses the history of social democracy is a series of unsuccessful attempts to induce the membethemselves to determine policy. This is all inevitable while the proletariat is carrying on a parliamentastruggle, while the masses have yet to create organs of self-action, while the revolution has still to be mathat is and as soon as the masses start to intervene, act and take decisions on their own behalf, thdisadvantages of parliamentary struggle become overwhelming.

1s we argued above, the tactical problem is how we are to eradicate the traditional bourgeois mentaliwhich paralyses the strength of the proletarian masses everything which lends new power to the receiv

conceptions is harmful. The most tenacious and intractable element in this mentality is dependence upleaders, whom the masses leave to determine general 2uestions and to manage their class affai?arliamentarianism inevitably tends to inhibit the autonomous activity by the masses that is necessary revolution. 3ine speeches may be made in parliament exhorting the proletariat to revolutionary action itnot in such words that the latter has its origins, however, but in the hard necessity of there being no otalternative.

<evolution also demands something more than the massive assault that topples a government and which,we know, cannot be summoned up by leaders, but can only spring from the profound impulse of the mass<evolution re2uires social reconstruction to be undertaken, difficult decisions made, the whole proletarinvolved in creative action -- and this is only possible if first the vanguard, then a greater and greater numtake matters in hand themselves, know their own responsibilities, investigate, agitate, wrestle, strive, reflassess, sei%e chances and act upon them. But all this is difficult and laborious thus, so long as the workclass thinks it sees an easier way out through others acting on its behalf leading agitation from a hi platform, taking decisions, giving signals for action, making laws -- the old habits of thought and the weaknesses will make it hesitate and remain passive.

hile on the one hand parliamentarianism has the counterrevolutionary effect of strengthening the leaderdominance over the masses, on the other it has a tendency to corrupt these leaders themselves. hen personal statesmanship has to compensate for what is lacking in the active power of the masses, pediplomacy develops whatever intentions the party may have started out with, it has to try and gain a le base, a position of parliamentary power and so finally the relationship between means and ends is reversand it is no longer parliament that serves as a means towards communism, but communism that stands asadvertising slogan for parliamentary politics. In the process, however, the communist party itself takes odifferent character. Instead of a vanguard grouping the entire class behind it for the purpose of revolutionaction, it becomes a parliamentary party with the same legal status as the others, oining in their 2uarrelsnew edition of the old social democracy under new radical slogans. hereas there can be no essentiaantagonism, no internal conflict between the revolutionary working class and the communist party, since party incarnates a form of synthesis between the proletariatOs most lucid class-consciousness and its growunity, parliamentary activity shatters this unity and creates the possibility of such a conflict 4 insteadunifying the class, communism becomes a new party with its own party chiefs, a party which falls in wthe others and thus perpetuates the political division of the class. 1ll these tendencies will doubtless be short once again by the development of the economy in a revolutionary sense but even the first beginninof this process can only harm the revolutionary movement by inhibiting the development of lucid claconsciousness and when the economic situation temporarily favours counter-revolution, this policy w pave the way for a diversion of the revolution on to the terrain of reaction.

hat is great and truly communist about the <ussian revolution is above all the fact that it has awoken thmassesO own activity and ignited the spiritual and physical energy in them to build and sustain a new soc<ousing the masses to this consciousness of their own power is something which cannot be achieved allonce, but only in stages one stage on this way to independence is the re ection of parliamentarianism. henin ecember 0>0C, the newly formed $ommunist ?arty of Germany resolved to boycott the 'ational1ssembly, this decision did not proceed from any immature illusion of 2uick, easy victory, but from th

proletariatOs need to emancipate itself from its psychological dependence upon parliamentary representa-- a necessary reaction against the tradition of social democracy -- because the way to self-activity could n be seen to lie in building up the council system. 5owever, one half of those united at that time, those whave stayed in the 8? , readopted parliamentarianism with the ebb of the revolution 4 with wha

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conse2uences it remains to be seen, but which have in part been demonstrated already. In other countries topinion is divided among the communists, and many groups want to refrain from parliamentary activity e before the outbreak of revolution. The international dispute over the use of parliament as a method struggle will thus clearly be one of the main tactical issues within the Third International over the next fyears.

1t any rate, everyone is agreed that parliamentary activity only forms a subsidiary feature of our tactics. T/econd International was able to develop up to the point where it had brought out and laid bare the essenof the new tactics 4 that the proletariat can only con2uer imperialism with the weapons of mass action. T

/econd International itself was no longer able to employ these it was bound to collapse when the world w put the revolutionary class struggle on to an international plane. The legacy of the earlier internationals wthe natural foundation of the new international 4 mass action by the proletariat to the point of general stand civil war forms the common tactical platform of the communists. In parliamentary activity the proletais divided into nations, and a genuinely international intervention is not possible in mass action agaiinternational capital national divisions fall away, and every movement, to whatever countries it extends olimited, is part of a single world struggle.

Notes

M N The remainder of this paragraph and the two following are 2uoted by Gorter in the #pen HeMtranslators noteN MS7N It was recently argued in Germany that communists must go into parliament to convince the wothat parliamentary struggle is useless -- but you donOt take a wrong turning to show other people that wrong, you go the right way from the outset ; V

Aust as parliamentary activity incarnates the leadersO psychological hold over the working masses, strade-union movement incarnates their material authority. "nder capitalism, the trade unions form thnatural organisations for the regroupment of the proletariat and !arx emphasised their significance as sucfrom the first. In developed capitalism, and even more in the epoch of imperialism, the trade unions ha become enormous confederations which manifest the same developmental tendencies as the bourgeois stin an earlier period. There has grown up within them a class of officials, a bureaucracy, which controls the organisationOs resources -- funds, press, the appointment of officials often they have even more reaching powers, so that they have changed from being the servants of the collectivity to become its mastand have identified themselves with the organisation. 1nd the trade unions also resemble the state and bureaucracy in that, democratic forms notwithstanding, the will of the members is unable to prevail agaithe bureaucracy every revolt breaks on the carefully constructed apparatus of orders of business and statu before it can shake the hierarchy. It is only after years of stubborn persistence that an opposition csometimes register a limited success, and usually this only amounts to a change in personnel. In the last fyears, before and since the war, this situation has therefore often given rise to rebellions by the membersin England, Germany and 1merica they have struck on their own initiative, against the will of the leadershor the decisions of the union itself. That this should seem natural and be taken as such is an expression of fact that the organisation is not simply a collective organ of the members, but as it were something alienthem that the workers do not control their union, but that it stands over them as an external force agaiwhich they can rebel, although they themselves are the source of its strength -- once again like the stitself. If the revolt dies down, the old order is established once again it knows how to assert itself in spitethe hatred and impotent bitterness of the masses, for it relies upon these massesO indifference and their of clear insight and united, persistent purpose, and is sustained by the inner necessity of trade-uniorganisation as the only means of finding strength in numbers against capital.

It was by combating capital, combating its tendencies to absolute impoverisation, setting limits to the laand thus making the existence of the working class possible, that the trade-union movement fulfilled its rin capitalism, and this made it a limb of capitalist society itself. But once the proletariat ceases to b

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member of capitalist society and, with the advent of revolution, becomes its destroyer, the trade union entinto conflict with the proletariat.

It becomes legal, an open supporter of the state and recognised by the latter, it makes Oexpansion ofeconomy before the revolutionO its slogan, in other words, the maintenance of capitalism. In Germany tomillions of proletarians, until now intimidated by the terrorism of the ruling class, are streaming into unions out of a mixture of timidity and incipient militancy. The resemblance of the trade-uniconfederations, which now embrace almost the entire working class, to the state structure is becoming evcloser. The trade-union officials collaborate with the state bureaucracy not only in using their power to h

down the working class on behalf of capital, but also in the fact that their OpolicyO increasingly amoudeceiving the masses by demagogic means and securing their consent to the bargains that the unions hamade with the capitalists. 1nd even the methods employed vary according to the conditions 4 rough a brutal in Germany, where the trade-union leaders have landed the workers with piece-work and longworking hours by means of coercion and cunning deception, subtle and refined in England, where the traunion mandarins, like the government, give the appearance of allowing themselves to be reluctantly pushon by the workers, while in reality they are sabotaging the latterOs demands.

!arxO and HeninOs insistence that the way in which the state is organised precludes its use as an instrume proletarian revolution, notwithstanding its democratic forms, must therefore also apply to the trade-unorganisations. Their counterrevolutionary potential cannot be destroyed or diminished by a change personnel, by the substitution of radical or OrevolutionaryO leaders for reactionary ones. It is the form organisation that renders the masses all but impotent and prevents them making the trade union an organtheir will. The revolution can only be successful by destroying this organisation, that is to say so completrevolutionising its organisational structure that it becomes something completely different. The sovsystem, constructed from within, is not only capable of uprooting and abolishing the state bureaucracy, bthe trade-union bureaucracy as well it will form not only the new political organs to replace parliament, also the basis of the new trade unions. The idea that a particular organisational form is revolutionary h been held up to scorn in the party disputes in Germany on the grounds that what counts is the revolutionmentality of the members. But if the most important element of the revolution consists in the masses taktheir own affairs -- the management of society and production -- in hand themselves, then any form organisation which does not permit control and direction by the masses themselves is counterrevolutionand harmful and it should therefore be replaced by another form that is revolutionary in that it enables workers themselves to determine everything actively. This is not to say that this form is to be set up withistill passive work-force in readiness for the revolutionary feeling of the workers to function within it in tto come 4 this new form of organisation can itself only be set up in the process of revolution, by workmaking a revolutionary intervention. But recognition of the role played by the current form of organisatdetermines the attitude which the communists have to take with regard to the attempts already being madweaken or burst this form.

Efforts to keep the bureaucratic apparatus as small as possible and to look to the activity of the masses effectiveness have been particularly marked in the syndicalist movement, and even more so in the Oindusunion movement. This is why so many communists have spoken out for support of these organisatioagainst the central confederations. /o long as capitalism remains intact, however, these new formatiocannot take on any comprehensive role -- the importance of the 1merican I derives from particularcircumstances, namely the existence of a numerous, unskilled proletariat largely of foreign extraction outsthe old confederations. The /hop $ommittees movement and /hop /tewards movement in England aremuch closer to the soviet system, in that they are mass organs formed in opposition to the bureaucracy in course of struggle. The OunionsO in Germany are even more deliberately modelled on the idea of the s but the stagnation of the revolution has left them weak. Every new formation of this type that weakens central confederations and their inner cohesion removes an impediment to revolution and weakens tcounterrevolutionary potential of the trade-union bureaucracy. The notion of keeping all oppositional arevolutionary forces together within the confederations in order for them eventually to take the

organisations over as a ma ority and revolutionise them is certainly tempting. But in the first place, this ivain hope, as fanciful as the related notion of taking over the /ocial- emocratic party, because the bureaucracy already knows how to deal with an opposition before it becomes too dangerous. 1nd secondrevolution does not proceed according to a smooth programme, but elemental outbreaks on the part

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passionately active groups always play a particular role within it as a force driving it forward. If tcommunists were to defend the central confederations against such initiatives out of opportunisconsiderations of temporary gain, they would reinforce the inhibitions which will later be their moformidable obstacle.

The formation by the workers of the soviets, their own organs of power and action, in itself signifies disintegration and dissolution of the state. 1s a much more recent form of organisation and one created the proletariat itself, the trade union will survive much longer, because it has its roots in a much more livtradition of personal experience, and once it has shaken off state-democratic illusions, will therefore claim

place in the conceptual world of the proletariat. But since the trade unions have emerged from the proletaitself, as products of its own creative activity, it is in this field that we shall see the most new formationscontinual attempts to adapt to new conditions following the process of revolution, new forms of strugand organisation will be built on the model of the soviets in a process of constant transformation adevelopment.

VI

The conception that revolution in estern Europe will take the form of an orderly siege of the fortress ocapital which the proletariat, organised by the $ommunist ?arty into a disciplined army and using tim proven weapons, will repeatedly assault until the enemy surrenders is a neo-reformist perspective tcertainly does not correspond to the conditions of struggle in the old capitalist countries. 5ere there moccur revolutions and con2uests of power that 2uickly turn into defeat the bourgeoisie will be ablereassert its domination, but this will result in even greater dislocation of the economy transitional forms marise which, because of their inade2uacy, only prolong the chaos. $ertain conditions must be fulfilled in asociety for the social process of production and collective existence to be possible, and these relatioac2uire the firm hold of spontaneous habits and moral norms -- sense of duty, industriousness, discipline the first instance, the process of revolution consists in a loosening of these old relations. Their decay inecessary by-product of the dissolution of capitalism, while the new bonds corresponding to the communreorganisation of work and society, the development of which we have witnessed in <ussia, have yet to grsufficiently strong. Thus, a transitional period of social and political chaos becomes inevitable. here th proletariat is able to sei%e power rapidly and keep a firm hold upon it, as in <ussia, the transitional pecan be short and can be brought rapidly to a close by positive construction. But in estern Europe, th process of destruction will be much more drawn out. In Germany we see the working class split into groin which this process has reached different stages, and which therefore cannot yet achieve unity in actiThe symptoms of recent revolutionary movements indicate that the entire nation, and indeed, $entral Euroas a whole, is dissolving, that the popular masses are fragmenting into separate strata and regions, with eaacting on its own account 4 here the masses manage to arm themselves and more or less gain political powelsewhere they paralyse the power of the bourgeoisie in strike movements in a third place they shthemselves off as a peasant republic, and somewhere else they support white guards, or perhaps toss asthe remnants of feudalism in primitive agrarian revolts -- the destruction must obviously be thorough-go before we can begin to think of the real construction of communism. It cannot be the task of the $ommun?arty to act the schoolmaster in this upheaval and make vain attempts to truss it in a strait acket of traditioforms its task is to support the forces of the proletarian movement everywhere, to connect the spontaneoactions together, to give them a broad idea of how they are related to one another, and thereby prepare tunification of the disparate actions and thus put itself at the head of the movement as a whole.

The first phase of the dissolution of capitalism is to be seen in those countries of the Entente where hegemony is as yet unshaken in an irresistible decline in production and in the value of their currencies, increase in the fre2uency of strikes and a strong aversion to work among the proletariat. The second phathe period of counter-revolution, i.e. the political hegemony of the bourgeoisie in the epoch of revoluti

means complete economic collapse we can study this best in Germany and the remainder of $entral EuroIf a communist system had arisen immediately after the political revolution, organised reconstruction cohave begun in spite of the Kersailles and /t Germain peace treaties, in spite of the poverty and thexhaustion. But the Ebert-'oske regime no more thought of organised reconstruction than did <enner an

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Bauer MCN they gave the bourgeoisie a free hand, and saw their duty as consisting solely in the suppreof the proletariat. The bourgeoisie, or rather each individual bourgeois, acted in a characteristica bourgeois manner each of them thought only of making as much profit as possible and of rescuing for personal use whatever could be saved from the cataclysm. It is true that there was talk in newspapers amanifestoes of the need to rebuild economic life by organised effort, but this was simply for the workeconsumption, fine phrases to conceal the fact that despite their exhaustion, they were under rigorocompulsion to work in the most intensive conditions possible. In reality, of course, not a single bourgeconcerned himself one ot with the general national interest, but only with his personal gain. 1t first, tra became the principal means of self-enrichment, as it used to be in the old days the depreciation of t

currency provided the opportunity to export everything that was needed for economic expansion or even the mere survival of the masses -- raw materials, food, finished products, means of production, and after thfactories themselves and property. <acketeering reigned everywhere among the bourgeois strata, support by unbridled corruption on the part of officialdom. 1nd so all their former possessions and everything thwas not to be surrendered as war reparations was packed off abroad by the Oleaders of productionO. Hikin the domain of production, the private pursuit of profit intervened to wreck economic life by its toindifference towards the common welfare. In order to force piecework and longer working hours up proletarians or to get rid of rebellious elements among them, they were locked out and the factories set astandstill, regardless of the stagnation caused throughout the rest of the industry as a conse2uence. #n topthat came the incompetence of the bureaucratic management in the state enterprises, which degenerated iutter vacillation when the powerful hand of the government was missing. <estriction of production, the m primitive method of raising prices and one which competition would render impossible in a healthy capitaeconomy, became respectable once more. In the stock-market reports capitalism seems to be flourishiagain, but the high dividends are consuming the last remaining property and are themselves being fritteaway on luxuries. hat we have witnessed in Germany over the last year is not something out of theordinary, but the functioning of the general class character of the bourgeoisie. Their only aim is, and alwhas been, personal profit, which in normal capitalism sustains production, but which brings about the todestruction of the economy as capitalism degenerates. 1nd things will go the same way in other countrieonce production has been dislocated beyond a certain point and the currency has depreciated sharply, ththe complete collapse of the economy will result if the pursuit of private profit by the bourgeoisie is givfree reign -- and this is what the political hegemony of the bourgeoisie amounts to, whatever non-commu party it may hide behind.

The difficulties of the reconstruction facing the proletariat of estern Europe in these circumstances are fagreater than they were in <ussia -- the subse2uent destruction of industrial productive forces by 8olchak aenikin is a pale shadow by comparison. <econstruction cannot wait for a new political order to be set up, must be begun in the very process of revolution by the proletariat taking over the organisation of productand abolishing the bourgeoisieOs control over the material essentials of life wherever the proletariat g power. orks councils can serve to keep an eye on the use of goods in the factories but it is clear that thicannot prevent all the anti-social racketeering of the bourgeoisie. To do so, the most resolute utilisationarmed political power is necessary. here the profiteers recklessly s2uander the national wealth withouheed for the common good, where armed reaction blindly murders and destroys, the proletariat muintervene and fight with no half-measures in order to protect the common good and the life of the people.

The difficulties of reorganising a society that has been completely destroyed are so great that they appinsuperable before the event, and this makes it impossible to set up a programme for reconstructionadvance. But they must be overcome, and the proletariat will overcome them by the infinite self-sacrifand commitment, the boundless power of soul and spirit and the tremendous psychological and moenergies which the revolution is able to awaken in its weakened and tortured frame.

1t this point, a few problems may be touched on in passing. The 2uestion of technical cadres in industry wonly give temporary difficulties 4 although their thinking is bourgeois through and through and they deeply hostile to proletarian rule, they will nevertheless conform in the end. Getting commerce and indus

moving will above all be a 2uestion of supplying raw materials and this 2uestion coincides with thatfood-stuffs. The 2uestion of food-supplies is central to the revolution in estern Europe, since the highlindustrialised population cannot get by even under capitalism without imports from abroad. 3or trevolution, however, the 2uestion of food-supplies is intimately bound up with the whole agrarian 2uesti

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and the principles of communist regulation of agriculture must influence measures taken to deal with huneven during the revolution. Aunker estates and large-scale landed property are ripe for expropriation collective exploitation the small farmers will be freed from all capitalist oppression and encouraged to admethods of intensive cultivation through support and assistance of every kind from the state and co-operatarrangements medium-scale farmers -- who own half the land in estern and /outh- estern Germany, forexample -- have a strongly individualistic and hence anti-communist mentality, but their economic positis as yet unassailable 4 they cannot therefore be expropriated, and will have to be integrated into the spherthe economic process as a whole through the exchange of products and the development of productivity, it is only with communism that maximum productivity can be developed in agriculture and the individ

enterprise introduced by capitalism transcended. It follows that the workers will see in the landownerhostile class and in the rural workers and small farmers allies in the revolution, while they have no cause making enemies of the middle farming strata, even though the latter may be of a hostile disposition towathem. This means that during the first period of chaos preceding the establishment of a system of exchang products, re2uisitions must be carried out only as an emergency measure among these strata, as an absolutunavoidable balancing operation between famine in the towns and in the country. The struggle againhunger will have to be dealt with primarily by imports from abroad. /oviet <ussia, with her rich stocks foodstuffs and raw materials, will thus save and provide for the revolution in estern Europe. The esternEuropean working class thus has the highest and most personal interest in the defence and support of /ov<ussia.

The reconstruction of the economy, inordinately difficult as it will be, is not the main problem for t$ommunist ?arty. hen the proletarian masses develop their intellectual and moral potential to the full, theywill resolve it themselves. The prime duty of the $ommunist ?arty is to arouse and foster this potential.must eradicate all the received ideas which leave the proletariat timid and unsure of itself, set itself agaieverything that breeds illusions among the workers about easier courses and restrains them from the mradical measures, energetically oppose all the tendencies which stop short at half-measures or compromis1nd there are still many such tendencies.

Notes

MCN 8arl <enner was the leader of the revisionist wing of the 1ustrian /ocial emocratic ?arty #tto Bauwas 1ustrian 3oreign /ecretary from 'ovember 0>0C to Auly 0>0>. Mtranslators noteN VII

The transition from capitalism to communism will not proceed according to a simple schema of con2uer political power, introducing the council system and then abolishing private commerce, even though trepresents the broad outline of development. That would only be possible if one could undertareconstruction in some sort of void. But out of capitalism there have grown forms of production aorganisation which have firm roots in the consciousness of the masses, and which can themselves onlyoverthrown in a process of political and economic revolution. e have already mentioned the agrarian formof production, which will have to follow a particular course of development. There have grown up in working class under capitalism forms of organisation, different in detail from country to country, whrepresent a powerful force, which cannot immediately be abolished and which will thus play an importrole in the course of the revolution.

This applies in the first instance to political parties. The role of social democracy in the present crisiscapitalism is sufficiently well known, but in $entral Europe it has practically played itself out. Even its mradical sections, such as the "/? in Germany, exercise a harmful influence, not only by splitting the proletariat, but above all by confusing the masses and restraining them from action with their socidemocratic notions of political leaders directing the fate of the people by their deeds and dealings. 1nd if t

$ommunist ?arty constitutes itself into a parliamentary party which, instead of attempting to assert thdictatorship of the class, attempts to establish that of the party -- that is to say the party leadership -- thetoo may become a hindrance to development. The attitude of the $ommunist ?arty of Germany during trevolutionary !arch movement, when it announced that the proletariat was not yet ripe for dictatorship an

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that it would therefore encounter any Ogenuinely socialist governmentO that might be formed as a OoppositionO, in other words restrain the proletariat from waging the fiercest revolutionary struggle agasuch a government, was itself criticised from many 2uarters. MS9N

1 government of socialist party leaders may arise in the course of the revolution as a transitional form thwill be expressing a temporary balance between the revolutionary and bourgeois forces, and it will tendfree%e and perpetuate the temporary balance between the destruction of the old and the development ofnew. It would be something like a more radical version of the Ebert-5aase- ittmann regime M>N and basis shows what can be expected of it 4 a seeming balance of hostile classes, but under the preponderanc

the bourgeoisie, a mixture of parliamentary democracy and a kind of council system for the workesocialisation sub ect to the veto of the Entente powersO imperialism with the profits of capital bemaintained, futile attempts to prevent classes clashing violently. It is always the workers who take a beatin such circumstances. 'ot only can a regime of this sort achieve nothing in terms of reconstruction, it doenot even attempt to do so, since its only aim is to halt the revolution in mid-course. /ince it attempts both prevent the further disintegration of capitalism and also the development of the full political power of proletariat, its effects are directly counter-revolutionary. $ommunists have no choice but to fight suregimes in the most uncompromising manner.

Aust as in Germany the /ocial- emocratic ?arty was formerly the leading organisation of the proletariat, sin England the trade-union movement, in the course of almost a century of history, has put down the deeproots in the working class. 5ere it has long been the ideal of the younger radical trade-union leaders<obert /millie is a typical example -- for the working class to govern society by means of the trade-unioorganisation. Even the revolutionary syndicalists and the spokesmen of the I in 1merica, althoughaffiliated to the Third International, imagine the future rule of the proletariat primarily along these lin<adical trade-unionists see the soviet system not as the purest form of proletarian dictatorship, but rather aregime of politicians and intellectuals built up on a base of working-class organisations. They see the traunion movement, on the other hand, as the natural organisation of the proletariat, created by the proletarwhich governs itself within it and which will go on to govern the whole of the work-process. #nce the oideal of Oindustrial democracyO has been realised and the trade union is master in the factory, its colleorgan, the trade-union congress, will take over the function of guiding and managing the economy awhole. It will then be the real Oparliament of labourO and replace the old bourgeois parliament of paThese circles often shrink from a one-sided and OunfairO class dictatorship as an infringement of demohowever labour is to rule, but others are not to be without rights. Therefore, in addition to the labo parliament, which governs work, the basis of life, a second house could be elected by universal suffragerepresent the whole nation and exercise its influence on public and cultural matters and 2uestions of gene political concern.

This conception of government by the trade unions should not be confused with OlabourismO, the politthe OHabour ?artyO, which is currently led by trade-unionists. This latter stands for the penetration o bourgeois parliament of today by the trade unions, who will build a OworkersO partyO on the same fooother parties with the ob ective of becoming the party of government in their place. This party is complet bourgeois, and there is little to choose between 5enderson and Ebert. It will give the English bourgeoisie topportunity to continue its old policies on a broader basis as soon as the threat of pressure from below mathis necessary, and hence weaken and confuse the workers by taking their leaders into the government.government of the workersO party, something which seemed imminent a year ago when the masses were irevolutionary a mood, but which the leaders themselves have put back into the distant future by holding radical current down, would, like the Ebert regime in Germany, have been nothing but government on behof the bourgeoisie. But it remains to be seen whether the far-sighted, subtle English bourgeoisie does ntrust itself to stultify and suppress the masses more effectively than these working-class bureaucrats.

1 genuine trade-union government as conceived by the radicals is as unlike this workersO party politics, OlabourismO, as revolution is unlike reform. #nly a real revolution in political relationships -- whether v

or in keeping with the old English models -- could bring it about and in the eyes of the broad masseswould represent the con2uest of power by the proletariat. But it is nevertheless 2uite different from the gof communism. It is based on the limited ideology which develops in trade-union struggles, where one dnot confront world capital as a whole in all its interwoven forms -- finance capital, bank capital, agricultu

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capital, colonial capital -- but only its industrial form. It is based on marxist economics, now being eagestudied in the English working class, which show production to be a mechanism of exploitation, but withthe deeper marxist social theory, historical materialism. It recognises that work constitutes the basis of world and thus wants labour to rule the world but it does not see that all the abstract spheres of political intellectual life are determined by the mode of production, and it is therefore disposed to leave them to bourgeois intelligentsia, provided that the latter recognises the primacy of labour. /uch a workersO regwould in reality be a government of the trade-union bureaucracy complemented by the radical section of old state bureaucracy, which it would leave in charge of the specialist fields of culture, politics and suchlon the grounds of their special competence in these matters. It is obvious that its economic programme w

not coincide with communist expropriation, but will only go so far as the expropriation of big capital, whthe OhonestO profits of the smaller entrepreneur, hitherto fleeced and kept in sub ection by this big capita be spared. It is even open to doubt whether they will take up the standpoint of complete freedom for Indan integral element of the communist programme, on the colonial 2uestion, this life-nerve of the ruling clof England.

It cannot be predicted in what manner, to what degree and with what purity a political form of this kind w be realised. The English bourgeoisie has always understood the art of using well-timed concessions to chmovement towards revolutionary ob ectives how far it is able to continue this tactic in the future wdepend primarily on the depth of the economic crisis. If trade-union discipline is eroded from below uncontrollable industrial revolts and communism simultaneously gains a hold on the masses, then the radand reformist trade-unionists will agree on a common line if the struggle goes sharply against the oreformist politics of the leaders, the radical trade-unionists and the communists will go hand in hand.

These tendencies are not confined to England. The trade unions are the most powerful workersO organisain every country as soon as a political clash topples the old state power, it will inevitably fall into the hanof the best organised and most influential force on hand. In Germany in 'ovember 0>0C, the trade-unioexecutives formed the counter-revolutionary guard behind Ebert and in the recent !arch crisis, they enterethe political arena in an attempt to gain direct influence upon the composition of the government. The o purpose of this support for the Ebert regime was to deceive the proletariat the more subtly with the fraud Ogovernment under the control of the workersO organisationsO. But it shows that the same tendency exisas in England. 1nd even if the Hegiens and Bauers M0 N are too tainted by counter-revolution, new radtrade-unionists from the "/? tendency will take their place ust as last year the Independents undeissmann won the leadership of the great metalworkersO federation. If a revolutionary movement overthrothe Ebert regime, this tightly organised force of seven million will doubtless be ready to sei%e powecon unction with the $ ? or in opposition to it.

1 Ogovernment of the working classO along these lines by the trade unions cannot be stable although it be able to hold its own for a long time during a slow process of economic decline, in an acute revolutioncrisis it will only be able to survive as a tottering transitional phenomenon. Its programme, as we haoutlined above, cannot be radical. But a current which will sanction such measures not, like communisma temporary transitional form at most to be deliberately utilised for the purpose of building up a communorganisation, but as a definitive programme, must necessarily come into conflict with and antagonitowards the masses. 3irstly, because it does not render bourgeois elements completely powerless, but grathem a certain position of power in the bureaucracy and perhaps in parliament, from which they can continto wage the class struggle. The bourgeoisie will endeavour to consolidate these positions of strength, whthe proletariat, because it cannot annihilate the hostile class under these conditions, must attempt to estaba straightforward soviet system as the organ of its dictatorship in this battle between two mighty opponeeconomic reconstruction will be impossible. MS=N 1nd secondly, because a government of trade-uleaders of this kind cannot resolve the problems which society is posing for the latter can only be resolvthrough the proletarian massesO own initiative and activity, fuelled by the self-sacrificing and unbounenthusiasm which only communism, with all its perspectives of total freedom and supreme intellectual moral elevation, can command. 1 current which seeks to abolish material poverty and exploitation, b

deliberately confines itself to this goal, which leaves the bourgeois superstructure intact and at the same tiholds back from revolutionising the mental outlook and ideology of the proletariat, cannot release these grenergies in the masses and so it will be incapable of resolving the material problems of initiating economexpansion and ending the chaos.

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MS9N /ee, for example, the penetrating criticisms of $omrade 8olos%vary in the Kiennese we8ommunismus.

MS=N The absence of obvious and intimidating methods of coercion in the hands of the bourgeoisEngland also inspires the pacifist illusion that violent revolution is not necessary there and that peaceconstruction from below, as in the Guild movement and the /hop $ommittees, will take care of everythinIt is certainly true that the most potent weapon of the English bourgeoisie has until now been subdeception rather than armed force but if put to it, this world-dominating class will not fail to summonterrible means to enforce its rule.

M>N Ebert, 5aase and ittmann were members of the $ouncil of ?eopleOs $ommissioners given suprauthority by the 'ovember revolution. Mtranslators noteN

M0 N 8arl Hegien was ?resident of the General $ommission of Trade "nions from 0C> and of its successthe 1 GB * 1llgemeiner eutscher Gewerkschaftsbund +, from its formation in 0>0> Gustav Bauer,another trade-union leader, became !inister of Habour in 0>0> and subse2uently $hancellor. MtranslatnoteN

M00N <espectively socialist and trade union leaders. Mtranslators noteN

VIII

In estern Europe, capitalism is in a state of progressive collapse yet in <ussia, despite the terribledifficulties, production is being built up under a new order. The hegemony of communism does not methat production is completely based on a communist order -- this latter is only possible after a relativlengthy process of development -- but that the working class is consciously developing the system production towards communism. MS@N This development cannot at any point go beyond what the pretechnical and social foundations permit, and therefore it inevitably manifests transitional forms in whvestiges of the old bourgeois world appear. 1ccording to what we have heard of the situation in <ussia hein estern Europe, such vestiges do indeed exist there.

<ussia is an enormous peasant land industry there has not developed to the unnatural extent of a Oworksof the world as it has in estern Europe, making export and expansion a 2uestion of life and death, but ussufficiently for the formation of a working class able to take over the government of society as a developclass. 1griculture is the occupation of the popular masses, and modern, large-scale farms are in a minorialthough they play a valuable role in the development of communism. It is the small units that make up ma ority 4 not the wretched, exploited little properties of estern Europe, but farms which secure the welfaof the peasants and which the soviet regime is seeking to integrate more and more closely into the systema whole by means of material assistance in the form of extra e2uipment and tools and by intensive cultuand specialist education. It is nevertheless natural that this form of enterprise generates a certain spiritindividualism alien to communism, which, among the Orich peasantsO, has become a hostile, resolutelycommunist frame of mind. The Entente has doubtless speculated on this in its proposals to trade with operatives, intending to initiate a bourgeois counter-movement by drawing these strata into bourgeois purof profit. But because fear of feudal reaction binds them to the present regime as their ma or interest, suefforts must come to nothing, and when estern European imperialism collapses this danger will disappeacompletely.

Industry is predominantly a centrally organised, exploitation-free system of production it is the heart of new order, and the leadership of the state is based on the industrial proletariat. But even this system

production is in a transitional phase the technical and administrative cadres in the factories and in the stapparatus exercise greater authority than is commensurate with developed communism. The need to incre production 2uickly and the even more urgent need to create an efficient army to fend off the attacks reaction made it imperative to make good the lack of reliable leaders in the shortest possible time the thr

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of famine and the assaults of the enemy did not permit all resources to be directed towards a more gradraising of the general level of competence and to the development of all as the basis of a collectivcommunist system. Thus a new bureaucracy inevitably arose from the new leaders and functionariabsorbing the old bureaucracy into itself. This is at times regarded with some anxiety as a peril to the norder, and it can only be removed by a broad development of the masses. 1lthough the latter is beinundertaken with the utmost energy, only the communist surplus by which man ceases to be the slave of labour will form a lasting foundation for it. #nly surplus creates the material conditions for freedom ae2uality so long as the struggle against nature and against the forces of capital remains intense, an inordindegree of specialisation will remain necessary.

It is worth noting that although our analysis predicts that development in estern Europe will take different direction from that of <ussia insofar as we can foresee the course which it will follow as trevolution progresses, both manifest the same politico-economic structure 4 industry run accordingcommunist principles with workersO councils forming the element of self-management under the techdirection and political hegemony of a worker-bureaucracy, while agriculture retains an individualistic, pet bourgeois character in the dominant small and medium-scale sectors. But this coincidence is not extraordinary for all that, in that this kind of social structure is determined not by previous political histo but by basic technico-economic conditions -- the level of development attained by industrial and agricultutechnology and the formation of the proletarian masses -- which are in both cases the same. MSDN But dthis coincidence, there is a great difference in significance and goal. In estern Europe this politicoeconomic structure forms a transitional stage at which the bourgeoisie is ultimately able to arrest its decliwhereas in <ussia the attempt is consciously being made to pursue development further in a commundirection. In estern Europe, it forms a phase in the class struggle between bourgeoisie and proletariat, i<ussia a phase in the new economic expansion. ith the same external forms, estern Europe is on thedownward path of a declining culture, <ussia on the rising movement of a new culture.

hile the <ussian revolution was still young and weak and was looking to an imminent outbreak orevolution in Europe to save it, a different conception of its significance reigned. <ussia, it was thmaintained, was only an outpost of the revolution where favourable circumstances had enabled t proletariat to sei%e power so early but this proletariat was weak and unformed and almost swallowed uthe infinite masses of the peasantry. The proletariat of economically backward <ussia could only matemporary advances as soon as the great masses of the fully-fledged estern European proletariat came t power in the most developed industrial countries, with all their technical and organisational experience atheir ancient wealth of culture, then we should see communism flourish to an extent that would make <ussian contribution, welcome as it was, seem weak and inade2uate by comparison. The heart and strengof the new communist world lay where capitalism had reached the height of its power, in England,Germany, in 1merica, and laid the basis for the new mode of production.

This conception takes no account of the difficulties facing the revolution in estern Europe. here the proletariat only slowly gains firm control and the bourgeoisie is upon occasion able to win back power part or in whole, nothing can come of economic reconstruction. $apitalist expansion is impossible evetime the bourgeoisie obtains a free hand, it creates new chaos and destroys the bases which could haserved for the construction of communist production. 1gain and again it prevents the consolidation of tnew proletarian order by bloody reaction and destruction. This occurred even in <ussia 4 the destructionindustrial installations and mines in the "rals and the onet% basin by 8olchak and enikin, as well as theneed to deploy the best workers and the greater part of the productive forces against them, was a serio blow to the economy and damaged and delayed communist expansion -- and even though the initiationtrade relations with 1merica and the est may considerably favour a new upturn, the greatest, most selfsacrificing effort will be needed on the part of the masses in <ussia to achieve complete recovery from tdamage. But -- and herein lies the difference -- the soviet republic has remained intact in <ussia as organised centre of communist power which has already developed tremendous internal stability. In esterEurope there will be ust as much destruction and murder, here too the best forces of the proletariat will

wiped out in the course of the struggle, but here we lack an already consolidated, organised soviet state tcould serve as a source of strength. The classes are wearing each other out in a devastating civil war, and long as construction comes to nothing, chaos and misery will continue to rule. This will be the lot countries where the proletariat does not immediately recognise its task with clear insight and united purpo

0 D



that is to say where bourgeois traditions weaken and split the workers, dim their eyes and subdue thhearts. It will take decades to overcome the infectious, paralysing influence of bourgeois culture upon proletariat in the old capitalist countries. 1nd meanwhile, production lies in ruins and the countdegenerates into an economic desert.

1t the same time as estern Europe, stagnating economically, painfully struggles with its bourgeois past, ithe East, in <ussia, the economy is flourishing under a communist order. hat used to distinguish thedeveloped capitalist countries from the backward East was the tremendous sophistication of their mateand mental means of production -- a dense network of railways, factories, ships, and a dense, technica

skilled population. But during the collapse of capitalism, in the long civil war, in the period of stagnatwhen too little is being produced, this heritage is being dissipated, used up or destroyed. The indestructiforces of production, science, technical capabilities, are not tied to these countries their bearers will finnew homeland in <ussia, where trade will also provide a sanctuary for part of EuropeOs material technical riches. /oviet <ussiaOs trade agreement with estern Europe and 1merica will, if taken seriousland operated with a will, tend to accentuate this contradiction, because it furthers the economic expansion<ussia while delaying collapse in estern Europe, thus giving capitalism a breathing space and paralysingthe revolutionary potential of the masses -- for how long and to what extent remains to be seen. ?oliticalthis will be expressed in an apparent stabilisation of a bourgeois regime or one of the other types discusabove and in a simultaneous rise to power of opportunist tendencies within communism by recognising old methods of struggle and engaging in parliamentary activity and loyal opposition within the old traunions, the communist parties in estern Europe will ac2uire a legal status, like social-democracy beforthem, and in the face of this, the radical, revolutionary current will see itself forced into a minori5owever, it is entirely improbable that capitalism will en oy a real new flowering the private interests of tcapitalists trading with <ussia will not defer to the economy as a whole, and for the sake of profit they wship off essential basic elements of production to <ussia nor can the proletariat again be brought into a stof dependence. Thus the crisis will drag on lasting improvement is impossible and will continually arrested the process of revolution and civil war will be delayed and drawn out, the complete rule communism and the beginning of new growth put off into the distant future. !eanwhile, in the East, theconomy will develop untrammelled in a powerful upsurge, and new paths will be opened up on the basisthe most advanced natural science -- which the est is incapable of exploiting -- together with the newsocial science, humanityOs newly won control over its own social forces. 1nd these forces, increasehundredfold by the new energies flowing from freedom and e2uality, will make <ussia the centre of the ncommunist world order.

This will not be the first time in world history that the centre of the civilised world has shifted in ttransition to a new mode of production or one of its phases. In anti2uity, it moved from the !iddle East /outhern Europe, in the !iddle 1ges, from /outhern to estern Europe with the rise of colonial andmerchant capital, first /pain, then 5olland and England became the leading nation, and with the rise oindustry England. The cause of these shifts can in fact be embraced in a general historical principle 4 whthe earlier economic form reached its highest development, the material and mental forces, the politic uridical institutions which secured its existence and which were necessary for its full development, werestrongly constructed that they offered almost insuperable resistance to the development of new forms. Ththe institution of slavery inhibited the development of feudalism at the twilight of anti2uity thus, the gulaws applying in the great wealthy cities of medieval times meant that later capitalist manufacturing coonly develop in other centres hitherto insignificant thus in the late eighteenth century, the political order3rench absolutism which had fostered industry under $olbert obstructed the introduction of the large-scaindustry that made England a manufacturing nation. There even exists a corresponding law in organic natua corollary to arwinOs Osurvival of the fittestO known as the law of the Osurvival of the unfittedO 4species of animal has become specialised and differentiated into a wealth of forms all perfectly adapted particular conditions of life in that period -- like the /aurians in the /econdary Era -- it becomes incapable evolving into a new species all the various options for adaptation and development have been lost acannot be retrieved. The development of a new species proceeds from primitive forms which, because th

have remained undifferentiated, have retained all their potential for development, and the old species whis incapable of further adaptation dies out. The phenomenon whereby leadership in economic, political acultural development continually shifts from one people or nation to another in the course of human hist

0



-- explained away by bourgeois science with the fantasy of a nation or race having Oexhausted its life forcis a particular incidence of this organic rule.

e now see why it is that the primacy of estern Europe and 1merica -- which the bourgeoisie is pleased toattribute to the intellectual and moral superiority of their race -- will evaporate, and where we can foreseshifting to. 'ew countries, where the masses are not poisoned by the fug of a bourgeois ideology, where th beginnings of industrial development have raised the mind from its former slumber and a communist seof solidarity has awoken, where the raw materials are available to use the most advanced technoloinherited from capitalism for a renewal of the traditional forms of production, where oppression elicits

development of the 2ualities fostered by struggle, but where no over-powerful bourgeoisie can obstruct t process of regeneration -- it is such countries that will be the centres of the new communist world. <ussitself half a continent when taken in con unction with /iberia, already stands first in line. But thesconditions are also present to a greater or lesser extent in other countries of the East, in India, in $hin1lthough there may be other sources of immaturity, these 1sian countries must not be overlooked iconsidering the communist world revolution.

This world revolution is not seen in its full universal significance if considered only from the esterEuropean perspective. <ussia not only forms the eastern part of Europe, it is much more the western part1sia, and not only in a geographical, but also in a politico-economic sense. The old <ussia had little common with Europe 4 it was the westernmost of those politico-economic structures which !arx termOoriental despotic powersO, and which included all the great empires of ancient and modern 1sia. Basethe village communism of a largely homogeneous peasantry, there evolved within these an absolute rule princes and the nobility, which also drew support from relatively small-scale but nevertheless importtrade in craft goods. Into this mode of production, which, despite superficial changes of ruler, had gone reproducing itself in the same way for thousands of years, estern European capital penetrated from asides, dissolving, fermenting, undermining, exploiting, impoverishing by trade, by direct sub ection a plunder, by exploitation of natural riches, by the construction of railways and factories, by state loans to princes, by the export of food and raw materials -- all of which is encompassed in the term Ocolonial pohereas India, with its enormous riches, was con2uered early, plundered and then proletarianised andindustrialised, it was only later, through modern colonial policy, that other countries fell prey to developcapital. 1lthough on the surface <ussia had played the role of a great European power since 0 , it too became a colony of European capital due to direct military contact with Europe it went earlier and m precipitately the way that ?ersia and $hina were subse2uently to go. Before the last world war per cent othe iron industry, the greater part of the railways, > per cent of platinum production and @ per cent of naphtha industry were in the hands of European capitalists, and through the enormous national debts tsarism, the latter also exploited the <ussian peasantry past the point of starvation. hile the working clasin <ussia worked under the same conditions as those of estern Europe, with the result that a body ofrevolutionary marxist views developed, <ussiaOs entire economic situation nevertheless made it westernmost of the 1siatic empires.

The <ussian revolution is the beginning of the great revolt by 1sia against the estern European capitalconcentrated in England. 1s a rule, we in estern Europe only consider the effects which it has here, wherethe advanced theoretical development of the <ussian revolutionaries has made them the teachers of t proletariat as it reaches towards communism. But its workings in the East are more important still and 1s2uestions therefore influence the policies of the soviet republic almost more than European 2uestions. Tcall for freedom and for the self-determination of all peoples and for struggle against European capithroughout 1sia is going out from !oscow, where delegations from 1siatic tribes are arriving one afteranother. MS N The threads lead from the soviet republic of Turan to India and the !oslem countries/outhern $hina the revolutionaries have sought to follow the example of government by soviets the panIslamic movement developing in the !iddle East under the leadership of Turkey is trying to connect wit<ussia. This is where the significance of the world struggle between <ussia and England as the exponentstwo social systems lies and this struggle cannot therefore end in real peace, despite temporary pauses,

the process of ferment in 1sia is continuing. English politicians who look a little further ahead than t petty-bourgeois demagogue Hloyd George clearly see the danger here threatening English domination of world, and with it the whole of capitalism they rightly say that <ussia is more dangerous than Germany e

0 C



was. But they cannot act forcefully, for the beginnings of revolutionary development in the Engli proletariat do not permit any regime other than one of bourgeois demagogy.

The interests of 1sia are in essence the interests of the human race. Eight hundred million people live <ussia, $hina and India, in the /ibero-<ussian plain and the fertile valleys of the Ganges and the Fangts8iang, more than half the population of the earth and almost three times as many as in the part of Eurounder capitalist domination. 1nd the seeds of revolution have appeared everywhere, besides <ussia on thone hand, powerful strike-movements flaring up where industrial proletarians are huddled together, asBombay and 5ankow on the other, nationalist movements under the leadership of the rising nation

intelligentsia. 1s far as can be udged from the reticent English press, the world war was a powerful stimuto national movements, but then suppressed them forcefully, while industry is in such an upsurge that goldflowing in torrents from 1merica to East 1sia. hen the wave of economic crisis hits these countries -- itseems to have overtaken Aapan already -- new struggles can be expected. The 2uestion may be raised awhether purely nationalist movements seeking a national capitalist order in 1sia should be supported, sinthey will be hostile to their own proletarian liberation movements but development will clearly not take course. It is true that until now the rising intelligentsia has orientated itself in terms of European nationaland, as the ideologues of the developing indigenous bourgeoisie, advocated a national bourgeois governmon estern lines but this idea is paling with the decline of Europe, and they will doubtless come stronglunder the intellectual sway of <ussian bolshevism and find in it the means to fuse with the proletarian strimovements and uprisings. Thus, the national liberation movements of 1sia will perhaps adopt a communworld view and a communist programme on the firm material ground of the workersO and peasantsOstruggle against the barbaric oppression of world capital sooner than external appearances might lead us believe.

The fact that these peoples are predominantly agrarian need be no more of an obstacle than it was in <ussicommunist communities will not consist of tightly-packed huddles of factory towns, for the capitaldivision between industrial and agricultural nations will cease to exist agriculture will have to take upgreat deal of space within them. The predominant agricultural character will nevertheless render trevolution more difficult, since the mental disposition is less favourable under such conditions. oubtless prolonged period of intellectual and political upheaval will also be necessary in these countries. Tdifficulties here are different from those in Europe, less of an active than of a passive nature 4 they lie lesthe strength of the resistance than in the slow pace at which activity is awakening, not in overcoming interchaos, but in developing the unity to drive out the foreign exploiter. e will not go into the particulars othese difficulties here -- the religious and national fragmentation of India, the petty-bourgeois character$hina. 5owever the political and economic forms continue to develop, the central problem which must fi be overcome is to destroy the hegemony of European and 1merican capital.

The hard struggle for the annihilation of capitalism is the common task which the workers of esterEurope and the "/1 have to accomplish hand-in-hand with the vast populations of 1sia. e are at presentonly at the beginning of this process. hen the German revolution takes a decisive turn and connects wit<ussia, when revolutionary mass struggles break out in England and 1merica, when revolt flares up in Indwhen communism pushes its frontiers forward to the <hine and the Indian #cean, then the world revolutiwill enter into its next mighty phase. ith its vassals in the Heague of 'ations and its 1merican andAapanese allies, the world-ruling English bourgeoisie, assaulted from within and without, its world pothreatened by colonial rebellions and wars of liberation, paralysed internally by strikes and civil war, whave to exert all its strength and raise mercenary armies against both enemies. hen the English workinclass, backed up by the rest of the European proletariat, attacks its bourgeoisie, it will fight doubly fcommunism, clearing the way for communism in England and helping to free 1sia. 1nd conversely, it w be able to count on the support of the main communist forces when armed hirelings of the bourgeoisie sto drown its struggle in blood -- for estern Europe and the islands off its coast are only a peninsul pro ecting from the great <usso-1sian complex of lands. The common struggle against capital will unite t proletarian masses of the whole world. 1nd when finally, at the end of the arduous struggle, the Europe

workers, deeply exhausted, stand in the clear morning light of freedom, they will greet the liberated peopof 1sia in the East and shake hands in !oscow, the capital of the new humanity.

Notes

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MS@N This conception of the gradual transformation of the mode of production stands in sharp contrastsocial-democratic conception, which seeks to abolish capitalism and exploitation gradually by a slow procof reform. The direct abolition of all profit on capital and of all exploitation by the victorious proletariathe precondition of the mode of production being able to move towards communism.

MSDN 1 prominent example of this kind of convergent development is to be found in the social structureend of ancient times and the beginning of the !iddle 1ges cf. Engels, #rigins of the 3amily, $h. C.

MS N This is the basis of the stand taken by Henin in 0>0D at the time of Pimmerwald against <adek, whrepresenting the view of estern European communists. The latter insisted that the slogan of the right of a peoples to self-determination, which the social patriots had taken up along with ilson, was merely deception, since this right can only ever be an appearance and illusion under imperialism, and that we shotherefore oppose this slogan. Henin saw in this standpoint the tendency of estern European socialists tre ect the 1siatic peoplesO wars of national liberation, thus avoiding radical struggle against the colo policies of their governments. A(te!-o!d to 5o!ld Re%ol&tion and )omm&nist Tactics

The above theses were written in 1pril and sent off to <ussia to be available for consideration by thexecutive committee and the congress in making their tactical decisions. The situation has meanwhaltered, in that the executive committee in !oscow and the leading comrades in <ussia have come dowcompletely on the side of opportunism, with the result that this tendency prevailed at the /econd $ongress the $ommunist International.

The policy in 2uestion first made its appearance in Germany, when <adek, using all the ideological amaterial influence that he and the 8? leadership could muster, attempted to impose his tactics of parliamentarianism and support for the central confederations upon the German communists, theresplitting and weakening the communist movement. /ince <adek was made secretary of the executivcommittee this policy has become that of the entire executive committee. The previously unsuccessefforts to secure the affiliation of the German Independents to !oscow have been redoubled, while the ant parliamentarian communists of the 81? , who, it can hardly be denied, by rights belong to the $I, havereceived frosty treatment 4 they had opposed the Third International on every issue of importance, it wmaintained, and could only be admitted upon special conditions. The 1msterdam 1uxiliary Bureau, whichad accepted them and treated them as e2uals, was closed down. Henin told the English communists tthey should not only participate in parliamentary elections, but even oin the Habour ?arty, a politicorganisation consisting largely of reactionary trade-union leaders and a member of the /econd Internation1ll these stands manifest the desire of the leading <ussian comrades to establish contact with the biworkersO organisations of estern Europe that have yet to turn communist. hile radical communists seeto further the revolutionary development of the working masses by means of rigorous, principled strugagainst all bourgeois, social-patriotic and vacillating tendencies and their representatives, the leadershipthe International is attempting to gain the adherence of the latter to !oscow in droves without their havinfirst to cast off their old perspectives.

The antagonistic stance which the Bolsheviks, whose deeds made them exponents of radical tactics in past, have taken up towards the radical communists of estern Europe comes out clearly in HeninOs recent published pamphlet OHeft- ingO $ommunism, an Infantile isorder. Its significance lies not in its conte but in the person of the author, for the arguments are scarcely original and have for the most part alrea been used by others. hat is new is that it is Henin who is now taking them up. The point is therefore not combat them -- their fallacy resides mainly in the e2uation of the conditions, parties, organisations a parliamentary practice of estern Europe with their <ussian counterparts -- and oppose other arguments tthem, but to grasp the fact of their appearance in this con uncture as the product of specific policies.

The basis of these policies can readily be identified in the needs of the /oviet republic. The reactionainsurgents 8olchak and enikin have destroyed the foundations of the <ussian iron industry, and the waeffort has forestalled a powerful upsurge in production. <ussia urgently needs machines, locomotives a

00



tools for economic reconstruction, and only the undamaged industry of the capitalist countries can provthese. It therefore needs peaceful trade with the rest of the world, and in particular with the nations of Entente they in their turn need raw materials and foodstuffs from <ussia to stave off the collapse capitalism. The sluggish pace of revolutionary development in estern Europe thus compels the /ovietrepublic to seek a modus vivendi with the capitalist world, to surrender a portion of its natural wealth as price of doing so, and to renounce direct support for revolution in other countries. In itself there can beob ection to an arrangement of this kind, which both parties recognise to be necessary but it would hardlysurprising if the sense of constraint and the initiation of a policy of compromise with the bourgeois wowere to foster a mental disposition towards more moderate perspectives. The Third International, as t

association of communist parties preparing proletarian revolution in every country, is not formally boundthe policies of the <ussian government, and it is supposed to pursue its own tasks completely independenthe latter. In practice, however, this separation does not exist ust as the $? is the backbone of the /ovierepublic, the executive committee is intimately connected with the ?raesidium of the /oviet republic throuthe persons of its members, thus forming an instrument whereby this ?raesidium intervenes in the politicsestern Europe. e can now see why the tactics of the Third International, laid down by $ongress to applyhomogeneously to all capitalist countries and to be directed from the centre, are determined not only by needs of communist agitation in those countries, but also by the political needs of /oviet <ussia.

'ow, it is true that England and <ussia, the hostile world powers respectively representing capital anlabour, both need peaceful trade in order to build up their economies. 5owever, it is not only immediaeconomic needs which determine their policies, but also the deeper economic antagonism betwe bourgeoisie and proletariat, the 2uestion of the future, expressed in the fact that powerful capitalist grourightly hostile to the /oviet republic, are attempting to prevent any compromise as a matter of principle. T/oviet government knows that it cannot rely upon the insight of Hloyd George and EnglandOs need for pethey had to bow to the insuperable might of the <ed 1rmy on the one hand and to the pressure whicEnglish workers and soldiers were exerting upon their government on the other. The /oviet governmeknows that the menace of the Entente proletariat is one of the most important of its weapons in paralysthe imperialist governments and compelling them to negotiate. It must therefore render this weapon powerful as possible. hat this re2uires is not a radical communist party preparing a root-and-brancrevolution for the future, but a great organised proletarian force which will take the part of <ussia and oblits own government to pay it heed. The /oviet government needs the masses now, even if they are not fucommunist. If it can gain them for itself, their adhesion to !oscow will be a sign to world capital that waof annihilation against <ussia are no longer possible, and that there is therefore no alternative to peace atrade relations.

!oscow must therefore press for communist tactics in estern Europe which do not conflict sharply withthe traditional perspectives and methods of the big labour organisations, the influence of which is decisi/imilarly, efforts had to be made to replace the Ebert regime in Germany with one oriented towards the Easince it had shown itself to be a tool of the Entente against <ussia and as the $? was itself too weak, onthe Independents could serve this purpose. 1 revolution in Germany would enormously strengthen t position of /oviet <ussia vis- -vis the Entente. The development of such a revolution, however, mighultimately be highly incommodious as far as the policy of peace and compromise with the Entente wconcerned, for a radical proletarian revolution would tear up the Kersailles Treaty and renew the war -- 5amburg communists wanted to make active preparations for this war in advance. <ussia would then its be drawn into this war, and even though it would be strengthened externally in the process, economreconstruction and the abolition of poverty would be still further delayed. These conse2uences could avoided if the German revolution could be kept within bounds such that although the strength of the workgovernments allied against Entente capital was greatly increased, the latter was not put in the positionhaving to go to war. This would demand not the radical tactics of the 81? , but government by theIndependents, 8? and trade unions in the form of a council organisation on the <ussian model.

This policy does have perspectives beyond merely securing a more favourable position for the curre

negotiations with the Entente 4 its goal is world revolution. It is nevertheless apparent that a particuconception of world revolution must be implicit in the particular character of these politics. The revolutwhich is now advancing across the world and which will shortly overtake $entral Europe and then esterEurope is driven on by the economic collapse of capitalism if capital is unable to bring about an upturn

000



production, the masses will be obliged to turn to revolution as the only alternative to going under withoustruggle. But although compelled to turn to revolution, the masses are by and large still in a state of menservitude to the old perspectives, the old organisations and leaders, and it is the latter who will obtain powin the first instance. 1 distinction must therefore be made between the external revolution which destroys hegemony of the bourgeoisie and renders capitalism impossible, and the communist revolution, a lon process which revolutionises the masses internally and in which the working class, emancipating itself frall its bonds, takes the construction of communism firmly in hand. It is the task of communism to identhe forces and tendencies which will halt the revolution half-way, to show the masses the way forward, a by the bitterest struggle for the most distant goals, for total power, against these tendencies, to awaken in

proletariat the capacity to impel the revolution onward. This it can only do by even now taking up struggle against the inhibiting leadership tendencies and the power of its leaders. #pportunism seeks to aitself with the leaders and share in a new hegemony believing it can sway them on to the path ocommunism, it will be compromised by them. By declaring this to be the official tactics of communism, Third International is setting the seal of Ocommunist revolutionO on the sei%ure of power by thorganisations and their leaders, consolidating the hegemony of these leaders and obstructing the furth progress of the revolution.

3rom the point of view of safeguarding /oviet <ussia there can be no ob ection to this conception of the goof world revolution. If a political system similar to that of <ussia existed in the other countries of Europecontrol by a workersO bureaucracy based on a council system -- the power of world imperialism woul broken and contained, at least in Europe. Economic build-up towards communism could then go ahewithout fear of reactionary wars of intervention in a <ussia surrounded by friendly workersO republics. therefore comprehensible that what we regard as a temporary, inade2uate, transitional form to be combawith all our might is for !oscow the achievement of proletarian revolution, the goal of communist policy.

This leads us to the critical considerations to be raised against these policies from the point of view communism. They relate firstly to its reciprocal ideological effect upon <ussia itself. If the stratum in powin <ussia fraternises with the workersO bureaucracy of estern Europe and adopts the attitudes of the lattcorrupted as it is by its position, its antagonism towards the masses and its adaptation to the bourgeois wothen the momentum which must carry <ussia further on the path of communism is liable to be dissipatedit bases itself upon the land-owning peasantry over and against the workers, a diversion of developmtowards bourgeois agrarian forms could not be ruled out, and this would lead to stagnation in the worevolution. There is the further consideration that the political system which arose in <ussia as an expeditransitional form towards the realisation of communism -- and which could only ossify into a bureaucrunder particular conditions -- would from the outset represent a reactionary impediment to revolutionestern Europe. e have already pointed out that a OworkersO governmentO of this kind would not be ablunleash the forces of communist reconstruction and since after this revolution the bourgeois and pett bourgeois masses, together with the peasantry, would, unlike the case of <ussia after the #ctober revolutiostill represent a tremendous force, the failure of reconstruction would only too easily bring reaction back ithe saddle, and the proletarian masses would have to renew their exertions to abolish the system.

It is even a matter of doubt whether this policy of attenuated world revolution can achieve its aim, ratthan reinforce the bourgeoisie like any other politics of opportunism. It is not the way forward for the mradical opposition to form a prior alliance with the moderates with a view to sharing power, instead driving the revolution on by uncompromising struggle it so weakens the overall fighting strength of masses that the overthrow of the prevailing system is delayed and made harder.

The real forces of revolution lie elsewhere than in the tactics of parties and the policies of governments. all the negotiations, there can be no real peace between the world of imperialism and that of communismwhile 8rassin was negotiating in Hondon, the <ed 1rmies were smashing the might of ?oland and reachinthe frontiers of Germany and 5ungary. This has brought the war to $entral Europe and the clascontradictions which have reached an intolerable level here, the total internal economic collapse whi

renders revolution inevitable, the misery of the masses, the fury of armed reaction, will all make civil wflare up in these countries. But when the masses are set in motion here, their revolution will not allow itto be channelled within the limits prescribed for it by the opportunistic politics of clever leaders it mustmore radical and more profound than in <ussia, because the resistance to be overcome is much greater. T

007



identification with the proletariat or other motives, wanted to overthrow the capitalist order 2uite fre2uentheir goals were even reactionary. $ommunism, on the other hand, was a proletarian movement. Thworkers groups which attacked the capitalist system called themselves communists. It was from t$ommunist Heague that the !anifesto emerged, which pointed out to the proletariat the goal and thdirection of its struggle.

In 0C=C the bourgeois revolutions broke out, clearing the way for the development of capitalism in cenEurope, and facilitating the transformation of the small traditional statelets into more powerful 'ation/tates. Industry expanded at a record pace during the 0C@ s and 0CD s, and amidst the ensuing prosperity

the revolutionary movements collapsed so completely that even the word communism was forgotten. Haduring the 0CD s, when the workers movement reemerged in England, 3rance and Germany within a mfully-developed capitalism, it had a much broader base than the previous communist sects, but its goals wmuch more limited and short-term in nature4 improvement of the immediate situation of the workers, lrecognition of trade unions, democratic reforms. In Germany, Hassalle led agitation in favor of /tatsupported producersO cooperatives in his view, the /tate should act as the architect of social policy in faof the working class, and in order to compel the /tate to assume this role, the working class would have avail itself of democracy the power of the masses over the /tate. It is therefore understandable that the?arty founded by Hassalle laid claim to the significant name of social democracy4 this name expressed ?artyOs goal, that is, democracy with a social purpose.

Hittle by little, however, the ?arty outgrew its initial narrow ob ectives. GermanyOs unrestrained capitdevelopment, the war for the formation of the German Empire, the pact between the bourgeoisie and militarist landowners, the anti-socialist law, the reactionary customs and taxation policies all of thesthings drove the working class forward, making it the vanguard of the rest of European workers movemewhich adopted its name and its policies. ?ractice honed its spirit for understanding !arxOs doctrine, whiwas made accessible to socialists by the numerous populari%ed versions written by 8autsky and th political applications. In this manner they came to once again recogni%e the principles and goals of thecommunism4 the $ommunist !anifesto was their programmatic work, !arxism was their theory, the classstruggle their tactic, the con2uest of political power by the proletariat--the social revolution--their goal.

There was, however, one difference4 the character of the new !arxism, the spirit of the whole movemenwas unlike that of the old communism. The social democracy was growing within an environmecharacteri%ed by a powerful burst of capitalist expansion. It was not, at first, compelled to consider a viotransformation. 3or this reason, the revolution was postponed into the distant future and the socdemocracy was satisfied with the tasks of propaganda and organi%ation in preparation for the postporevolution, and contented itself for the time being with struggles for immediate improvements. Its theasserted that the revolution had to come as the necessary result of economic development, forgetting thaction, the spontaneous activity of the masses, was necessary to bring this about. It thus became a kindeconomic fatalism. The social democracy and the rapidly growing trade unions which it dominated becamembers of the capitalist society they became the growing opposition and resistance of the working massas the institutions which prevented the total impoverishment of the masses under the pressure of capit

Thanks to the general franchise, they even became a strong opposition within the bourgeois parliameTheir basic character was, despite their theory, reformist, and in relation to day-to-day issues, palliative aminimalist instead of revolutionary. The principal cause of this development lay in proletarian prosperwhich granted the proletarian masses a certain degree of essential security, dampening the expression revolutionary views.

uring the last decade these tendencies have been reinforced. The workers movement achieved what wa possible in such circumstances4 a powerful ?arty, with a million members and garnering one-third of vote, and alongside it a trade union movement concentrating in its ranks the ma ority of organi%ed labothen clashed with an even more powerful barrier, against which the old methods were not so effective4 potent organi%ation of big capital into syndicates, cartels and trusts, as well as the policies of finance cap

heavy industry and militarism, all of which were forms of imperialism that were controlled by forces outs parliament. But this workers movement was not capable of a total tactical reorientation and renewal, as loas its own powerful organi%ations were arrayed against it, organi%ations which were considered to be enthemselves and were eager for recognition. The voice of this tendency was the bureaucracy, the numero

00=



army of officials, leaders, parliamentarians, secretaries and editors, who comprised a group of their own wtheir own interests. Their aim was to gradually change the nature of the ?artyOs activities while keepingold name. The con2uest of political power by the proletariat became, for them, the con2uest of parliamentary ma ority by their ?arty, that is, the replacement of the ruling politicians and /tate bureaucra by themselves, the social democratic politicians and the trade union and ?arty bureaucracies. The adventsocialism was now supposed to arrive by way of new legislation in favor of the proletariat. 1nd it was n ust among the revisionists that this position found favor. 8autsky, too, the political theoretician of tradicals, said during a debate that the social democracy wanted to staff the /tate, with all of its departmenand ministries, merely in order to put other people, from the social democracy, in the place of the minist

currently occupying those posts.The orld ar also led to the outbreak of a crisis in the workers movement. The social democracy,generally, put itself at the service of imperialism under the formula of Jdefense of the fatherlandJ the traunion and ?arty bureaucracies worked hand in hand with the /tate bureaucracy and business to make th proletariat expend its strength, its blood and its life to the utmost extremes. This signified the collapse of social democracy as a ?arty of proletarian revolution. 'ow, despite the fierce repression, a growingopposition has emerged in all countries, and the old banner of the class struggle, of !arxism and of threvolution is raised again. But under what name should this banner be raised: It would be complete ustified to reclaim the old formulas of social democracy, which the social democratic parties have left in lurch. But the very name JsocialistJ has now lost all of its meaning and power, since the differences betwthe socialists and the bourgeoisie have almost entirely disappeared. In order for the class struggle to moforward, the first and most important matter to attend to is to fight against the social democracy, which hled the proletariat into the abyss of poverty, submission, war, annihilation and powerlessness. /hould thnew fighters accept such infamous and shameful names: 1 new name was necessary, but what name wamore appropriate than any other to declare its role as the principle bearer of the old original class struggIn every country the same thought arose4 reclaim the name of communism.

#nce again, as in the time of !arx, communism as a revolutionary and proletarian movement confrontsocialism as a reformist and bourgeois movement. 1nd the new communism is not ust a new edition of ttheory of radical social democracy. 1s a result of the world crisis, it has gained new depth, which totaldifferentiates it from the old theory. In what follows, we shall elucidate the differences between the twtheories.

2

"lass Str&ggle and Socialization

uring its best days, social democracy established as its principle the class struggle against the bourgeoisiand as its goal, the reali%ation of socialism as soon as it could con2uer political power. 'ow that socidemocracy has abandoned that principle and that goal, both of them have been taken up again bcommunism.

hen the war broke out, social democracy abandoned the fight against the bourgeoisie. 8autsky assertedthat the class struggle was only applicable to peacetime, while during wartime class solidarity against enemy nation must take its place. In support of this assertion he pulled from out of his sleeve the lie of Jdefensive warJ, with which the masses were deceived at the start of hostilities. The leaders of the /?ma ority and the Independents differed on this point only because the former collaborated enthusiasticawith the war policy of the bourgeoisie while the latter patiently endured it, because they did not dare to l

the struggle themselves. 1fter the defeat of German militarism in 'ovember 0>0C, the same pattern warepeated. The social democratic leaders oined the government alongside the bourgeois parties and tried persuade the workers that this constituted the political power of the proletariat. But they did not use th power over the $ouncils and government ministries to reali%e socialism, but to reestablish capitali

00@



Besides this, one must add that the colossal power of $apital, which is the principle enemy and exploiterthe proletariat, is now embodied in Entente $apital, which now rules the world. The German bourgeoisreduced to impotence, can only exist as a peon and agent of Entente imperialism and is responsible fcrushing the German workers and exploiting them on behalf of Entente $apital. The social democrats, as political representatives of this bourgeoisie, and who now form the German government, have the taskcarrying out the orders of the Entente and re2uesting its aid and support.

3or their part, the Independents, who during the war restrained the workers in their struggle against t powerful German imperialism, have seen that after the war their task consists with, for example, thei

praise for the Heague of 'ations and ilson and their propaganda in favor of the Kersailles ?eace Treaty in restraining the workers in their struggle against the arrogance of world capitalism.

In the previous period, when social democracy denounced and opposed war, the good faith of its leadecould have been taken for granted, and one could have also thought that their elevation to the highest postthe government would have signified the political power of the proletariat, since, as representatives of workers, they had framed legislation for the reali%ation of, or at least the first steps towards socialism.every worker knows that despite the occasional proclamation they now have nothing at all to do withsuch things. Is it agreed that these gentlemen, once they have satisfied the aims of their greed, have no otdesires or goals that the social democracy was therefore nothing to them but a lot of hot air: ?erhaps some degree. But there are also other more important reasons which explain their behavior.

The social democracy has said that, in the current circumstances, after the terrible economic collapse, it islonger by any means possible to reali%e socialism. 1nd here we find an important distinction between positions of communism and social democracy. The social democrats say that socialism is only possible isociety of abundance, of increasing prosperity. The communists say that in such periods capitalism is msecure, because then the masses do not think about revolution. The social democrats say4 first, productmust be reestablished, to avoid a total catastrophe and to keep the masses from dying of hunger. Tcommunists say4 now, when the economy has hit rock bottom, is the perfect time to reestablish it upsocialist foundations. The social democrats say that even the most basic recovery of production re2uires continuation of the old capitalist mode of production, in conformance with which all institutions structured and thanks to which a devastating class struggle against the bourgeoisie will be avoided. Tcommunists say4 a recovery of the capitalist economic foundations is completely impossible the worlsinking ever deeper into bankruptcy before our eyes, into a degree of poverty which makes a break with bourgeoisie necessary, as the bourgeoisie is blocking the only possible road to reconstruction. /o the socidemocrats want to first reestablish capitalism, avoiding the class struggle the communists want to busocialism from scratch right now, with the class struggle as their guide.

hat, then, is this all about: The social labor process is the production of all the goods needed for life. Buthe satisfaction of human needs is not the goal of capitalist production its goal is surplus value, profit. capitalist activities are directed towards profit, and only for that purpose are the workers allowed to worktheir factories to manufacture goods in their countries, goods which are re2uired to satisfy our needs. 'ow

this whole labor process is paraly%ed and destroyed. ?rofits, of course, are still being made, even enorm profits, but this is taking place via the tortuous detours of capital flight, parasitism, plunder, the black marand speculation. If the regular source of profit is to be reestablished for the bourgeoisie, then production, labor process, must be restarted. Is this possible:

Insofar as it is a 2uestion of labor, of production, this cannot be so difficult. The working class masses there, ready to work. 1s for food, enough is produced in Germany. 1s for raw materials, such as coal aniron, these are in relatively short supply in comparison to the great mass of highly-skilled industrial work but this could easily be compensated for, thanks to trade with the less industriali%ed, but raw materials-countries of Eastern Europe. Thus, the recovery of production does not pose a superhuman problem. Bcapitalist production means that part of the product goes to the capitalist without the capitalist having

work for it.The bourgeois legal order is the means which makes it possible for these capitalists to reap this profit as iwere a natural process, thanks to its property rights. By means of these rights, capital has JclaimsJ to

00D



profit. The same thing happened before the war. But the war has enormously increased the profit claimscapital. The /tate debt today is numbered almost in the billions, whereas before the war it was ust in thmillions. This means that the owners of those titles to public /tate debt expect to receive, without workinall their billions in interest payments from the labor of the whole population, in the form of tax3urthermore, in GermanyOs case one must add to this sum the war indemnities owed to the Entente, wadd up to a total sum of 7 or 9 billion, more than half the gross national product. This means that, out othe total sum of production, more than half must be paid to the capitalists of the Entente on account of windemnities. Besides this, there is the German bourgeoisie itself, which wants to extract the greatest possi profit in order to accumulate new capital. /o, what will be left for the workers: The worker, in spite of all

this, needs to live but it is clear that under these circumstances his upkeep will be reduced to a minimuwhile all of capitalOs profits can only be produced thanks to more intensive labor, a longer working daymore refined methods of exploitation.

$apitalist production now implies such a high degree of exploitation that it will make life intolerable aalmost impossible for the workers. The reestablishment of production is not in itself so very difficultre2uires capable and determined organi%ation, as well as the enthusiastic collaboration of the en proletariat. But the reestablishment of production under such tremendous pressure and under conditionssuch systematic exploitation, which only gives the workers the minimum needed to sustain life, is practicimpossible. The first attempt to implement such a policy must fail due to the resistance and the refusal of workers themselves, on the part of those whom it would dispossess of any prospects of meeting thessential life-needs, leading to the gradual destruction of the whole economy. Germany provides an examof such a scenario.

1lready during the war the communists recogni%ed the impossibility of paying the enormous war debt its interest, and put forth the demand that the war debts and indemnities should be cancelled. But that is all. /hould the private debts incurred during the war also be cancelled: There is little difference betweecapital which has been borrowed during the war to build artillery pieces and the stock issues of a factomaking armor or artillery shells. In this case one cannot distinguish between the various kinds of capital, can one admit the claims of one kind to its profit while re ecting the others. 1ll profits constitute for capitaclaim on production, which hinders reconstruction. 3or an economy in such a precarious situation, ttremendous burden of the costs of the war is not the only weight it must bear all its other claimants malso be entered on the scales. This is why communism, which as a matter of principle re ects all capitaclaims to profit, is the only practically feasible principle. The economy must be practically rebuilt froscratch, without any regard for capitalOs profit.

The re ection of capitalOs right to profit was always, however, an axiom of social democracy as well. 5does social democracy approach this problem now: It is fighting for Jsociali%ationJ, that is, for texpropriation of industry by the /tate, and the indemnification of the industrialists. This means that, onmore and this time even through the mediation of the /tate part of the product of labor must be paid tothese capitalists for not working. In this way, the exploitation of the workers by capital remains the same before. Two things were always essential characteristics of socialism4 the elimination of exploitation and

social regulation of production. The first is the most important goal for the proletariat the second is the mrational method for increasing production, by way of its technical organi%ation. But in the Jsociali%a plans being prepared by social democracy exploitation continues to exist, and the de-privati%ation of induonly leads to /tate capitalism *or /tate socialism+, which turns the capitalist owners into shareholders of t/tate. The Jsociali%ationJ currently sought by the social democrats is therefore a lie for the proletariatwhom only the external faUade of socialism is displayed, while in fact exploitation is kept alive. Tfoundation of this position is undoubtedly the fear of a harsh conflict with the bourgeoisie, at a time whthe proletariat is growing more confident, but is still not in possession of all the forces re2uired for trevolutionary struggle. In practice, however, what this really amounts to is an attempt to put capitalism bon its feet, upon new foundations. 'aturally, this attempt must fail, since the impoverished economy cannafford such gifts to capital.

The social democrats of both tendencies, then, maintain the exploitation of the workers by capital one polleaves capitalism to its own development, the other stimulates and regulates this exploitation through intermediary of the /tate. Both, for the worker, have ust this one solution4 ork, work, work hard, with a

00



your strength; Because the reconstruction of the capitalist economy is only possible if the proletariat exeitself to satisfy the demands of the most extreme degree of exploitation.

3

Mass $ction and 4evol&tionEven before the war the difference between social democracy and communism was already evidealthough not under that name. This difference involved the tactics of the struggle. "nder the name of JleradicalsJ, an opposition arose at that time within social democracy *from which the predecessors of todacommunists emerged+, which defended mass action against the JradicalsJ and the revisionists. In this dispit became clear that the radical spokesmen, especially 8autsky, defended a position opposed to revolutionaaction, both theoretically as well as tactically.

The parliamentary and trade union struggle had brought the workers in a vigorously expanding capitalism some economic improvements, while simultaneously building a powerful barrier against capitalism permanent tendencies towards pauperi%ation of the working class. #ver the last decade, however, this barslowly gave way, in spite of the workersO strong and expanding organi%ation4 imperialism reinforce power of the capitalists and militarism, weakened parliament, put the trade unions on the defensive a began to prepare for the world war. It was clear that the old methods of struggle no longer worked. Tmasses were instinctively aware of this in every country they participated in actions which were oftopposed by their leaders, launched large-scale trade union struggles, carried out transport strikes whi paraly%ed the economy, or took part in political demonstrations. The outbreak of proletarian revfre2uently erupted in such a way as to shatter the self-confidence of the bourgeoisie, which was compelledmake concessions or the movements were often enough 2uenched by means of massacres.

The social democratic leaders also tried to use these actions for their own political ob ectives thacknowledged the usefulness of political strikes for particular goals, but only on condition that they reduced to pre-arranged limits, on condition that they begin and end when the leaders give the order, and tthey always remain subordinated to the tactics determined by the leaders. Thus, it often happens that sustrikes take place today, too, but usually without too much success. The tempestuous violence of telemental uprising of the masses is paraly%ed by a policy of compromise.

The element of class action that immediately creates panic in the ruling bourgeoisie the fear that theworkers movement might take on a revolutionary character disappeared from these JdisciplinedJ masactions, since every precaution had been taken to ensure their harmlessness.

The revolutionary !arxists todayOs communists then made an assessment of the limited character of theideology of the social democratic leadership. They saw that, throughout history, the masses, the classthemselves, had been the motor force of and the impulse behind every action. <evolutions never arose frothe prudent decisions of recogni%ed leaders. hen the circumstances and the situation became intolerablthe masses suddenly rose, overthrew the old authorities, and the new class or a fraction of that class to power and molded the /tate or society in accordance with its needs. It was only during the last @ years peaceful capitalist development that the illusion emerged and flourished that leaders, as individual sub edirect the course of history in accordance with their enlightened intelligence. ?arliamentarians and the stattached to the /tate executive offices believe that their deeds, actions and decisions determine the course events the masses who follow them must only take action when they are called upon to do so, ratifying words of their spokesmen and then 2uickly disappearing from the political stage. The masses have to pla

simple passive role, that of choosing their leaders, and it is the latter that provide the decisive impulse to course of development.

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But if this belief is inade2uate for the understanding of the past revolutions of history, it is yet moinade2uate for understanding the present situation, in the light of the profound difference between t bourgeois revolution and the proletarian revolution. In the bourgeois revolution, the popular masses workers and petit bourgeoisie only rise once *as in ?aris in 3ebruary of 0C=C+, or intermittently, as ingreat 3rench <evolution, in order to overthrow the old royalty or a new power which has gotten out control such as that of the Girondins. #nce their work was done they gave way to new men, threpresentatives of the bourgeoisie, who formed a new government, and proceeded to reconfigure areconstruct the /tate institutions, the constitution and the laws. The power of the proletarian masses wneeded to destroy the old regime, but not to construct the new one, because the new regime was t

organi%ation of a new class power.It was in accordance with this model that the radical social democrats conceived the proletarian revolutiwhich unlike the reformists they believed to be necessary. 1 great popular uprising must put an end tothe old military-absolutist rule and bring the social democrats to power, who would take care of everythelse, building socialism by means of new legislation. This is how they conceive of the proletarian revolutiBut the proletarian revolution is something completely different. The proletarian revolution is the liberatof the masses from all class power and all exploitation. This means that they must themselves take histinto their own hands, in order to make themselves masters of their own labor. /tarting with the old humspecies, limited to slave labor, which only thinks of itself and sees no further than the walls of its factothey must create new men, proud, ready to fight, with an independent spirit, suffused with solidarity, nallowing themselves to be deceived by the clever lies of bourgeois theories, regulating the labor processtheir own. This change cannot take place as a result of a single revolutionary act, but will re2uire a lo process, in which the workers, through necessity and bitter disillusionments, occasional victories arepeated defeats, slowly build up the necessary force to attain the cohesive unity and the maturity ffreedom and power. This process of struggle is the proletarian revolution.

5ow long this process will take will vary from country to country and according to the particulcircumstances, and will depend above all on the power of resistance of each ruling class. The fact that it toa relatively short period of time in <ussia was due to the fact that the bourgeoisie there was weak and ththanks to the latterOs alliance with the landed nobility, the peasants were impelled to take the side ofworkers. The bourgeoisieOs axis of power is the violence of the /tate, the violent organi%ation of force all the means at its disposal4 law, school, police, udiciary, army and bureaucracy, which hold in their hathe control over all sectors of public life. The revolution is the struggle of the proletariat against this powapparatus of the ruling class the proletariat can only win its freedom if it opposes the organi%ation ofenemy with a stronger and more cohesive organi%ation of its own. The bourgeoisie and /tate power trykeep the workers impotent, dispersed and intimidated, in order to interrupt the growth of their unity throuviolence and lies, and to demorali%e them concerning the power of their own actions. 1gainst these effomass action arises from the ranks of the workers multitudes, action leading to the paralysis and breakdoof /tate organi%ations. 1s long as the latter remain intact, the proletariat is not victorious, because thoorgani%ations will constantly operate against the proletariat. Therefore, its struggle if the world does nwant to come to an end in capitalism must finally do away with the /tate machinery, which must bedestroyed and rendered harmless by the powerful actions of the proletariat.

8autsky had already opposed this conception before the war. 1ccording to him, the proletariat must noadopt this tactic, which would lead it to destroy the /tate in an outburst of violence, since it would need t/tate apparatus for its own purposes. 1ll the ministries of the existing /tate, once in the power of th proletariat, will continue to be necessary in order to implement the laws passed on behalf of the workers. Tgoal of the proletariat must not be the destruction of the /tate, but its con2uest. The 2uestion of how create the organi%ation of the power of the victorious proletariat whether it will be a continuation of t bourgeois /tate, as 8autsky believed, or a completely new organi%ation is thus posed. But the sociademocratic theories, as they have been formulated and propagandi%ed by 8autsky over the last thirty yeonly spoke of economics and capitalism, from which socialism would have to JnecessarilyJ emerge Jho

all of this is to happen was never elaborated and thus the 2uestion of the relation between the /tate anrevolution was not addressed at the time. It was to find its answer only later. In any event, the oppositi between the social democratic and communist theories was already clear in regard to the 2uestion revolution.

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3or the social democrats, the proletarian revolution is a single act, a popular movement that destroys the power and puts the social democrats in the driverOs seat of the /tate, in the government posts. The downof the 5ohen%ollerns in Germany on 'ovember , 0>0C is in their eyes a pure proletarian revolution, whiconly achieved victory thanks to the special circumstance that the old compulsion was done away with aresult of the war. 3or the communists, this revolt could only signify the beginning of a proletarian revolutwhich, by overthrowing the old compulsion, cleared the way for the workers to finish off the old order aconstruct their class organi%ation. 1s it turned out, the workers allowed themselves to be led by socdemocracy and helped rebuild the /tateOs power after it had been paraly%ed4 they are still in the midst epoch of difficult struggles.

3or 8autsky and his friends, Germany is an authentic social democratic republic where the workers, whnot in power, at least collaborate in the government 'oske and his apparatus of repression are only esthetic blemishes. They must not, of course, think that they have arrived at socialism ust yet. 8autsky hconstantly repeated that, according to the !arxist conception, the social revolution will not take place all once, but is a long historical process4 capitalism is not yet mature enough for the economic revolution.this he means to say, among other things, that, although the proletarian revolution has taken place, t proletarians must allow themselves to be exploited as before and a few big industries must only slowlynationali%ed. #r, to put it in plain English4 instead of the old ministers, the social democrats have occupthe highest positions in the /tate but capitalism is still the same along with its exploitation.

This is the practical meaning of the social democratic claim, according to which, after a proletarirevolutionary uprising, struck at one blow, a much longer process of sociali%ation and of social revolumust be undertaken. 1gainst this conception, communism asserts that the proletarian revolution, the sei%of power by the proletariat, is a very slow process of mass struggle, through which the proletariat will ris power and isolate the /tate machinery. 1t the apex of this struggle, when the workers take powerexploitation will be 2uickly ended, the suppression of all claims to profit without labor will be proclaimand the first steps towards the new uridical basis for the reconstruction of the economy as a consciousorgani%ed, goal-driven mechanism will be taken.

4

Democrac( and Parliamentarism/ocial democratic doctrine never concerned itself with the problem of discovering the political forms power would assume after having reached its goal. The beginning of the proletarian revolution has provithe practical answer to this 2uestion, thanks to the events themselves. This practice of the first stages of revolution has enormously increased our ability to understand the essence and the future path of t

revolution it has enormously clarified our intuitions and contributed new perspectives on a matter whwas previously vaguely outlined in a distant ha%e. These new intuitions constitute the most impordifference between social democracy and communism. If communism, in the points discussed abovsignifies faithfulness to and the correct extension of the best social democratic theories, now, thanks tonew perspectives, it rises above the old theories of socialism. In this theory of communism, !arxismundergoes an important extension and enrichment.

"p until now, only a few people were aware of the fact that radical social democracy had become s profoundly estranged from !arxOs views in its concept of the /tate and revolution which, furthermore, noone had even taken the trouble to discuss. 1mong the few exceptions, Henin stands out. #nly the victory the Bolsheviks in 0>0 , and their dissolution of the 'ational 1ssembly shortly afterwards, showed the

socialists of estern Europe that a new principle was making its debut in <ussia. 1nd in HeninOs book, Th/tate and <evolution, which was written in the summer of 0>0 although it only became available inestern Europe in the following year one finds the foundations of the socialist theory of the /tate

considered in the light of !arxOs views.07



The opposition between social democracy and the socialism we are now considering is often expressed in slogan, J emocracy or ictatorshipJ. But the communists also consider their system to be a form ofdemocracy. hen the social democrats speak of democracy, they are referring to democracy as it is appliedin parliamentarism the communists oppose parliamentary or bourgeois democracy. hat do they mean bthese terms:

emocracy means popular government, peopleOs self-government. The popular masses themselves madminister their own affairs and determine them. Is this actually the case: The whole world knows thanswer is no. The /tate apparatus rules and regulates everything it governs the people, who are its sub ect

In reality, the /tate apparatus is composed of the mass of officials and military personnel. #f course, irelation to all matters which affect the entire community, officials are necessary for carrying oadministrative functions but in our /tate, the servants of the people have become their masters. /ociademocracy is of the opinion that parliamentary democracy, due to the fact that it is the form of democrawhere the people elect their government, is in a position if the right people are elected to make popularself-government a reality.

hat really happens is clearly demonstrated by the experience of the new German republic. There can be ndoubt that the masses of workers do not want to see the return of a triumphant capitalism. Even so, whilethe elections there was no limitation of democracy, there was no military terrorism, and all the institutionsthe reaction were powerless, despite all this the result was the reestablishment of the old oppression aexploitation, the preservation of capitalism. The communists had already warned of this and foresaw that,way of parliamentary democracy, the liberation of the workers from their exploitation by capital would be possible.

The popular masses express their power in elections. #n election day, the masses are sovereign they cimpose their will by electing their representatives. #n this one day, they are the masters. But woe to themthey do not choose the right representatives; uring the entire term after the election, they are powerles#nce elected, the deputies and parliamentarians can decide everything. This democracy is not a governmeof the people themselves, but a government of parliamentarians, who are almost totally independent of masses. To make them more responsive to a greater extent one could make proposals, such as, for exampholding new elections every year, or, even more radical, the right of recall *compulsory new elections at re2uest of a certain number of the eligible voters+ naturally, however, no one is making such proposals.course, the parliamentarians cannot do ust as they please, since four years later they will have to run office again. But during that time they manipulate the masses, accustoming them to such general formuand such demagogic phrases, in such a way that the masses are rendered absolutely incapable of exercisiany kind of critical udgment. o the voters, on election day, really choose appropriate representatives, whwill carry out in their name the mandates for which they were elected: 'o they only choose from amonvarious persons previously selected by the political parties who have been made familiar to them in the panewspapers.

But let us assume that a large number of people are elected by the masses as the representatives of their tr

intentions and are sent to parliament. They meet there, but soon reali%e that the parliament does not govit only has the mission of passing the laws, but does not implement them. In the bourgeois /tate there iseparation of powers between making and executing the laws. The parliament possesses only the first powwhile it is the second power which is really determinate the real power, that of implementing the laws, ithe hands of the bureaucracy and the departments of the /tate, at whose summit is the government executias the highest authority. This means that, in the democratic countries, the government personnel, tministers, are designated by the parliamentary ma ority. In reality, however, they are not elected, they anominated, behind closed doors with a lot of skullduggery and wheeling and dealing, by the leaders of parties with a parliamentary ma ority. Even if there were to be an aspect of popular will manifested in parliament, this would still not hold true in the government.

In the personnel staffing the government offices, the popular will is to be found only and there, in aweakened form mixed with other influences alongside bureaucratism, which directly rules and dominatethe people. But even the ministers are almost powerless against the organi%ations of the bureaucracy, ware nominally subordinate to them. The bureaucracy pulls all the strings and does all the work, not t

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ministers. It is the bureaucrats who remain in office and are still there when the next batch of elect politicians arrives in office. They rely on the ministers to defend them in parliament and to authori%e funfor them, but if the ministers cross them, they will make life impossible for them.

This is the whole meaning of the social democratic concept of the workers being able to take power aoverthrow capitalism by means of the normal rule of general suffrage. o they really think they can makanyone believe that all of these functionaries, office workers, department administrators, confidentadvisors, udges and officials high and low, will be capable of carrying out any sort of change on behalf the freedom of the proletariat at the behest of the likes of Ebert and /cheidemann, or ittmann and

Hedebour: The bureaucracy, at the highest levels, belongs to the same class as the exploiters of the workeand in its middle layers as well as in its lowest ranks its members all en oy a secure and privileged positicompared to the rest of the population. This is why they feel solidarity with the ruling layers which belonthe bourgeoisie, and are linked to them by a thousand invisible ties of education, family relationships a personal connections.

?erhaps the social democratic leaders have come to believe that, by taking the place of the previougovernment ministers, they could pave the way to socialism by passing new laws. In reality, howevnothing has changed in the /tate apparatus and the system of power as a result of this change of governme personnel. 1nd the fact that these gentlemen do not want to admit that this is indeed the case is proven by fact that their only concern has been to occupy the government posts, believing that, with this change personnel, the revolution is over. This is made e2ually clear by the fact that the modern organi%ations cre by the proletariat have, under their leadership, a statist character and smell about them, like the /tate but osmaller scale4 the former servants, now officials, have promoted themselves to masters they have createdense bureaucracy, with its own interests, which displays in an even more accentuated form the characterof the bourgeois parliaments at the commanding heights of their respective parties and groups, which oexpress the impotence of the masses of their memberships.

1re we therefore saying that the use of parliament and the struggle for democracy is a false tactic of socidemocracy: e all know that, under the rule of a powerful and still unchallenged capitalism, the parliamentary struggle can be a means of arousing and awakening class consciousness, and has indeed doso, and even Hiebknecht used it that way during the war. But it is for that very reason that the specicharacter of democratic parliamentarism cannot be ignored. It has calmed the combative spirit of the masit has inculcated them with the false belief that they were in control of the situation and s2uelched athoughts of rebellion which may have arisen among them. It performed invaluable services for capitalisallowing it to develop peacefully and without turmoil. 'aturally, capitalism had to adopt the especiallharmful formula of deceit and demagogy in the parliamentary struggle, in order to fulfill its aim of drivthe population to insanity. 1nd now the parliamentary democracy is performing a yet greater service fcapitalism, as it is enrolling the workers organi%ations in the effort to save capitalism.

$apitalism has been 2uite considerably weakened, materially and morally, during the world war, and wonly be able to survive if the workers themselves once again help it to get back on its feet. The soc

democratic labor leaders are elected as government ministers, because only the authority inherited from th party and the mirage of the promise of socialism could keep the workers pacified, until the old /tate ordcould be sufficiently reinforced. This is the role and the purpose of democracy, of parliamentary democrain this period in which it is not a 2uestion of the advent of socialism, but of its prevention. emocraccannot free the workers, it can only plunge them deeper into slavery, diverting their attention from tgenuine path to freedom it does not facilitate but blocks the revolution, reinforcing the bourgeoisicapacity for resistance and making the struggle for socialism a more difficult, costly and time-consumtask for the proletariat.

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5

Proletarian Democrac() or the "o&ncilS(stem

/ocial democracy believed that the con2uest of political power by the proletariat had to take the form ofsei%ure of the power of the /tate apparatus by the workers party. This was why socialism had to leave

/tate apparatus intact, to place it at the service of the working class. !arxists, including 8autsky, also sharedthis belief.

!arx and Engels viewed the /tate as the violent machinery of oppression created by the ruling class andthen perfected and further developed during the 0>th century as the proletariatOs revolt grew stronger. !arxthought that the task of the proletariat consisted in the destruction of this /tate apparatus and the creation completely new administrative organs. 5e was well aware of the fact that the /tate exercises many functionwhich, at first sight, benefit the general interest public safety, the regulation of trade, educationadministration but he also knew that all of these activities were subordinated to the overriding goal osecuring the interests of capital, of assuring its power. This is why he never succumbed to the fantasy ththis machinery of repression could ever become an organ of popular liberation, while preserving its ot

functions. The proletariat must provide itself with its own instrument of liberation.It seemed that this instrument could not be identified prior to its actual appearance only practice couunveil it. This became possible for the first time in the ?aris $ommune of 0C 0, when the proletaricon2uered /tate power. In the $ommune, the citi%ens and workers of ?aris elected a parliament after the omodel, but this parliament was immediately transformed into something 2uite unlike our parliament. purpose was not to entertain the people with fine words while allowing a small cli2ue of businessmen acapitalists to preserve their private property the men who met in the new parliament had to publicly reguland administer everything on behalf of the people. hat had been a parliamentary corporation watransformed into a corporation of labor it formed committees which were responsible for framing nlegislation. In this manner, the bureaucracy as a special class, independent of and ruling over the peopdisappeared, thereby abolishing the separation of legislative and executive powers. Those persons woccupied the highest posts over the people were at the same time elected by and representatives of the peothemselves who put them in office, and could at any time be removed from office by their electors.

The short life of the ?aris $ommune did not permit a complete development of this new concept it arose, to speak, instinctively, within the feverish struggle for existence. It was !arxOs brilliant perspicacity tcaused it to be recogni%ed as the embryonic form of the future forms of the /tate power of the proletarianew and important step was taken in 0> @ in <ussia, with the establishment of councils, or soviets, as orgof expression of the fighting proletariat. These organs did not con2uer political power, although the /ai?etersburg central workers council assumed the leadership of the struggle, and exercised considerab power. hen the new revolution broke out in 0>0 , the soviets were once again constructed, this time asorgans of proletarian power. ith the German 'ovember <evolution the proletariat took political control ofthe country and provided the second historical example of proletarian /tate power. It was in the <ussiaexample, however, that the political forms and principles the proletariat needs to achieve socialism wmost clearly presented. These are the principles of communism as opposed to those of social democracy.

The first principle is that of the dictatorship of the proletariat. !arx repeatedly maintained that th proletariat, immediately after taking power, must establish its dictatorship. By dictatorship he meant work power to the exclusion of the other classes. This assertion provoked many protests4 ustice prohibits sucdictatorship, which privileges certain groups above others which are denied their rights, and instead re2uidemocracy and e2uality before the law for everyone. But this is not at all the case4 each class understa

ustice and rights to mean what is good or bad for it the exploiter complains of in ustice when he is putwork. In other times, when the proud aristocrat or the rich and arrogant bourgeois scornfully looked dowith repugnance upon the idea of political e2uality and political rights for the slaves who toiled in the womost downtrodden and degrading obs, in those times it was a sign full of meaning for the honor of the m

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It is of course true that certain political parties recruit people principally from certain classes, whom threpresent, although incompletely. Belonging to a party is primarily a matter of political convictions ratthan oneOs class4 a large part of the proletariat has always sought its political representatives from o parties besides social democracy.

The new society makes labor and its organi%ation the conscious focus and foundation of all political where JpoliticalJ refers to the outward arrangement of economic life. "nder capitalism, this is expressed an occult fashion, but in the future society it will take on an open and evident expression. ?eople themselvact directly within their work groups. The workers in a factory elect one of their comrades as a representat

of their will, who remains in continual contact with them, and can at any time be replaced by another. Tdelegates are responsible for decisions concerning everything within their competence and hold meetinwhose composition varies according to whether the agenda is about matters relating to a particul profession, or a particular district, and so forth. It is from among these delegates that the central direct bodies arise in each area.

ithin such institutions there is no room for any kind of representation for the bourgeoisie whoever doenot work as a member of a production group is automatically barred from the possibility of being part of decision-making process, without needing to be excluded by formal voting arrangements. #n the other hanthe former bourgeois who collaborates in the new society according to his abilities, as the manager ofactory, for example, can make his voice heard in the factory assemblies and will have the same decisiomaking power as any other worker. The professions concerned with general cultural functions such teachers or doctors, form their own councils, which make decisions in their respective fields of educatand health in con unction with the representatives of the workers in these fields, which are thus managed aregulated by all. In every domain of society, the means employed is self-management and organi%ation f below, to mobili%e all the forces of the people for the great ob ective at the summit, these forces of people are oined together in a central governing body, which guarantees their proper utili%ation.

The council system is a state organi%ation without the bureaucracy of permanent officials which makes/tate an alien power separate from the people. The council system reali%es 3riedrich EngelsO assertiongovernment over people will give way to administration over things. #fficial posts *which are alwanecessary for administration+ which are not especially crucial will be accessible to anyone who hundergone an elementary training program. The higher administration is in the hands of elected delegatsub ect to immediate recall, who are paid the same wage as a worker. It could happen that during thtransition period this principle may not be totally and consistently implemented, since the necessary abiliwill not be found in every delegate all the time but when the bourgeois press deliberately goes to grotes2lengths in its praise for the abilities of todayOs bureaucratic system, it is worth recalling the fact tha 'ovember 0>0C, the workers and soldiers councils successfully carried out formidable tasks before whithe /tate and military bureaucracies 2uailed.

/ince the councils combine the tasks of management and execution, and since the delegates themselves mucarry out the decisions they make, there is no place for bureaucrats or career politicians, both of which

deni%ens of the institutions of bourgeois /tate power. The goal of every political party, that is, of eveorgani%ation of professional politicians, is to be able to take the /tate machinery into its hands this goaforeign to the $ommunist ?arty. The purpose of the latter is not the con2uest of power for itself, but to shothe goal and the way forward to the fighting proletariat, by means of the dissemination of commun principles, towards the end of establishing the system of workers councils.

#n this point, finally, social democracy and communism are opposed with respect to their immedia practical aims4 the first seeks the reorgani%ation of the old bourgeois /tate the second, a new politsystem.

Hast updated on4 9.0>.7 C

DESTR )TION AS A EAN O3 STR ::6E 819**

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The assessment of the burning of the <eichtag in the left communist press once again leads us to raise oth2uestions. $an destruction be a means of struggle for workers :3irst of all, it must be said that no one will cry over the disappearance of the <eichtag. It was one of tugliest buildings in modern Germany, a pompous image of the Empire of 0C 0. But there are other mo

beautiful buildings, and museums filled with artistic treasures. hen a desperate proletarian destroysomething precious in order to take vengeance for capitalist domination, how should we assess this :3rom a revolutionary point of view, his gesture appears valueless and from different points of view ocould speak of a negative gesture. The bourgeoisie is not the least bit touched by it since it has alreacontinually destroyed so many things where it was a matter of its profits, and it places money-value aboall else. /uch a gesture especially touches the more limited social strata of artists, amateurs of beautifthings, the best of whom often have anti-capitalist feelings, and some of whom * like illiam !orris and5erman Gorter + fought at the side of the workers. But in any case, is there any reason to take vengeance the bourgeoisie : oes the bourgeoisie have the task of bringing socialism instead of capitalism :It is its role to maintain all the forces of capitalism in place the destruction of all that is the task proletarians. It follows that if anybody can be held responsible for the maintenance of capitalism, it ismuch the working class itself which has neglected the struggle too much. Hastly, from whom does oremove something by its destruction : 3rom the victorious proletarians who one day will be masters of allit.#f course, all revolutionary class struggle, when it takes the form of civil war, will always provokdestruction. In any war it is necessary to destroy the points of support of the enemy. Even if the winner trto avoid too much destruction, the loser will be tempted to cause useless destruction through pure spite. Ito be expected that towards the end of the fight the decadent bourgeoisie destroys a great deal. #n the othhand, for the working class, the class which will slowly take over, destruction will no longer be a meansstruggle. #n the contrary it will try to pass on a world as rich and intact as possible to its descendents, future humanity. This is not only the case for the technical means which it can improve and perfect, bespecially for the monuments and memories of past generations which cannot be rebuilt.#ne might ob ect that a new humanity, the bearers of an une2ualled liberty and fraternity, will create thinmuch more beautiful and imposing than those of past centuries. 1nd moreover that newly liberated humanwill wish to cause the remainders of the past, which represented its former state of slavery, to disappear. Tis also what the revolutionary bourgeoisie did - or tried to do. 3or them, all of past history was nothing bthe darkness of ignorance and slavery, whereas the revolution was dedicated to reason, knowledge, virtand freedom. The proletariat, by contrast, considers the history of its forebears 2uite differently. #n the baof marxism which sees the development of society as a succession of forms of production, it sees a long ahard annexation of humanity on the basis of the development of labour, of tools and of forms of labotowards an ever increasing productivity, first through simple primitive society, then through class societwith their class struggle, until the moment when through communism man becomes the master of his ofate. 1nd in each period of development, the proletariat finds characteristics which are related to its ownature.In barbarian prehistory 4 the sentiments of fraternity and the morality of solidarity of primitive communIn petty-bourgeois manual work 4 the love of work which was expressed in the beauty of the buildings the utensils for everyday use which their descendants regard as incomparable masterworks. In the ascend bourgeoisie 4 the proud feeling of liberty which proclaimed the rights of man and was expressed in greatest works of world literature. In capitalism 4 the knowledge of nature, the priceless developmentnatural science which allowed man, through technology, to dominate nature and its own fate.In the work of all of these periods, these imposing character traits were more or less closely allied to cruesuperstition and selfishness. It is exactly these vices which we fight, which are an obstacle to us and whwe therefore hate. #ur conception of history teaches us that these imperfections must be understood

natural stages of growth, as the expression of a struggle for life by men not yet fully human, in an powerful nature and in a society of which the understanding escaped them.3or liberated humanity the imposing things which they created in spite of everything will remain a symbotheir weakness, but also a memorial of their strength, and worthy of being carefully preserved. Today, it

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the bourgeoisie which possesses all of it, but for us it is the property of the collectivity which we will set fto hand on to future generations as intact as possible.

Anton Pannekoek 19*+

T#e t#eo!$ o( t#e colla se o( ca italismThe idea that capitalism was in a final, its mortal, crisis dominated the first years after the <ussirevolution. hen the revolutionary workers6 movement in estern Europe abated, the Third Internationalgave up this theory, but it was maintained by the opposition movement, the 81? , which adopted thetheory of the mortal crisis of capitalism as the distinguishing feature between the revolutionary and reform points of view. The 2uestion of the necessity and the inevitability of the collapse of capitalism, and the win which this is to be understood, is the most important of all 2uestions for the working class and understanding and tactics. <osa Huxemburg had already dealt with it in 0>07 in her bookThe Accumulationof Capital , where she came to the conclusion that in a pure, closed capitalist system the surplus value need

for accumulation could not be realised and that therefore the constant expansion of capitalism through trade with non-capitalist countries was necessary. This means that capitalism would collapse, that it wonot be able to continue to exist any longer as an economic system, when this expansion was no long possible. It is this theory, which was challenged as soon as the book was published from different sidwhich the 81? has often referred to. 1 2uite different theory was developed in 0>7> by 5enrykGrossmann in his work 0as Akkumulations und 1usammenbruchsgeset# des ;apitalistischen !$stems *TheHaw of 1ccumulation and $ollapse of the $apitalist /ystem+. Grossman here deduces that capitalism mucollapse for purely economic reasons in the sense that, independently of human intervention, revolutioetc., it would be impossible for it to continue to exist as an economic system. The severe and lasting criwhich began in 0>9 has certainly prepared people6s minds for such a theory of mortal crisis. The recen published manifesto of the>nited Workers of America makes Grossman6s theory the theoretical basis for anew direction for the workers6 movement. It is therefore necessary to examine it critically. But to do th preliminary explanation of !arx6s position on this 2uestion and the past discussions connected with cannot be avoided.

a!" and Rosa 6&"em/&!g

In the second part ofCapital !arx dealt with the general conditions of capitalist production as a whole. Inthe abstract case of pure capitalist production all production is carried on for the market, all products bought and sold as commodities. The value of the means of production is passed on to the product and a nvalue is added by labour. This new value is broken down into two parts4 the value of the labour powwhich is paid as wages and used by the workers to buy means of subsistence, and the remainder, the surpvalue, which goes to the capitalist. here the surplus value is used for means of subsistence and luxurgoods then there is simple reproduction where a part of it is accumulated as new capital there reproduction on an extended scale.

3or the capitalists to find on the market the means of production they need and for the workers to likewfind the means of subsistence they need, a given proportion must exist between the various branches production. 1 mathematician would easily express this in algebraic formulae. !arx gives instead numericaexamples to express these proportions, making up cases with selected figures, to serve as illustrations. distinguishes two spheres, two main departments of production4 the means of production department *I+the means of consumption department *II+. In each of these departments a given value of the means production used is transferred to the product without undergoing any change *constant capital, c+ a gi part of the newly added value is used to pay for labour-power *variable capital, v+, the other part beingsurplus value *s+. If it is assumed for the numerical example that the constant capital is four times grethan the variable capital *a figure which rises with technical progress+ and that the surplus value is e2ua

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sub-title of her anti-criti2ue & hat the Epigones have done to !arxian Theory) was this time 2uite suitableIt was not a 2uestion here *as it was in <osa Huxemburg6s own case+ of a simple scientific mistake Baumistake reflected the practical political point of view of the /ocial emocrats of that time. They felthemselves to be the future statesmen who would take over from the current ruling politicians and cathrough the organisation of production they therefore did not see capitalism as the complete opposite to proletarian dictatorship to be established by revolution, but rather as a mode of producing means subsistence that could be improved and had not yet been brought under control.

:!ossman<s !e !od&ction sc#ema

5enryk Grossman linked his reproduction schema to that set out by #tto Bauer. 5e noticed that it is no possible to continue it indefinitely without it in time coming up against contradictions. This is very easysee. #tto Bauer assumes a constant capital of 7 , which grows each year by 0 per cent and a variablecapital of 0 , which grows each year by @ per cent, with the rate of surplus value being assumed to b0 per cent, i.e., the surplus value each year is e2ual to the variable capital. In accordance with the laws omathematics, a sum which increases each year by 0 per cent doubles itself after years, 2uadruples itseafter 0= years, increases ten times after 79 years and a hundred times after =D years. Thus the variable capand the surplus value which in the first year were each e2ual to half the constant capital are after =D yeonly e2ual to a twentieth of a constant capital which has grown enormously over the same period. Tsurplus value is therefore far from enough to ensure the 0 per cent annual growth of constant capital.

This does not result ust from the rates of growth of 0 and @ percent chosen by Bauer. 3or in fact undcapitalism surplus value increases less rapidly than capital. It is a well-known fact that, because of this, rate of profit must continually fall with the development of capitalism. !arx devoted many chapters to thfall in the rate of profit. If the rate of profit falls to @ per cent the capital can no longer be increased by 0cent, for the increase in capital out of accumulated surplus value is necessarily smaller than the surplus vaitself. The rate of accumulation evidently thus has the rate of profit as its higher limit *see !arx,Capital ,Kolume III, p. 79D, where it is stated that &the rate of accumulation falls with the rate of profit)+. The ua fixed figure 0 per cent which was acceptable for a period of a few years as in Bauer, becomesunacceptable when the reproduction schema are continued over a long period.

Fet Grossman, unconcerned, continues Bauer6s schema year by year and believes that he is therereproducing real capitalism. 5e then finds the following figures for constant and variable capital, surplvalue, the necessary accumulation and the amount remaining for the consumption of the capitalists *figures have been rounded to the nearest thousand+4

c v s accumulation k$ommencement 7 0 0 7 W @X 7@ @1fter 7 years 0777 7@9 7@9 077W09X09@ 00C1fter 9 years 90 =07 =07 90 W70X99C =1fter 9= years =D=0 @ @ =D=W7@X=C> 001fter 9@ years @0 D @7@ @7@ @0 W7DX@9D -00

1fter 70 years the share of surplus value remaining for consumption begins to diminish in the 9=th it almdisappears and in the 9@th it is even negative the /hylock of constant capital pitilessly demands its pounflesh, it wants to grow at 0 per cent, while the poor capitalists go hungry and keep nothing for their owconsumption.

&3rom the 9@th year therefore accumulation on the basis of the existing technical progress cannot keep up with the pace population growth. 1ccumulation would be too small andthere ,ould necessaril$ arise a reser%e arm$ which would have to groweach year) *Grossmann, p. 07D+.

In such circumstances the capitalists do not think of continuing production. #r if they do, they don6t do for, in view of the deficit of 00 in capital accumulation they would have to reduce production. *In fact twould have had to have done so before in view of their consumption expenses+. 1 part of the worktherefore become unemployed then a part of the capital becomes unused and the surplus value produc

09



decreases the mass of surplus value falls and a still greater deficit appears in accumulation, with a stgreater increase in unemployment. This, then, is the economic collapse of capitalism. $apitalism becomeconomically impossible. Thus does Grossmann solve the problem which he had set on page >4

&5ow, in what way, can accumulation lead to the collapse of capitalism:)

5ere we find presented what in the older !arxist literature was always treated as a stupid misunderstandinof opponents, for which the name Lthe big crash6 was current. ithout there being a revolutionary class overcome and dispossess the bourgeoisie, the end of capitalism comes for purely economic reasons t

machine no longer works, it clogs up, production has become impossible. In Grossmann6s words4&...with the progress of capital accumulation the whole mechanism, despite periodic interruptions, necessarily approaches nand nearer to its end....The tendency to collapse then wins the upper hand and makes itself felt absolutely as Lthe final crisis0= +.

and, in a later passage4

&...from our analysis it is clear that, although on our assumptions ob ectively necessary and although the moment when itoccur can be precisely calculated, the collapse of capitalism need not therefore result automatically by itself at the awaited moand therefore need not be waited for purely passively) *p. D 0+.

In this passage, where it might be thought for a moment that it is going to be a 2uestion of the active rolethe proletariat as agent of the revolution, Grossmann has in mind only changes in wages and working tiwhich upset the numerical assumptions and the results of the calculation. It is in this sense that he continu

&It thus appears that the idea of a necessary collapse for ob ective reasons is not at all in contradiction to the class struggle ththe contrary, the collapse, despite its ob ectively given necessity, can be widely influenced by the living forces of classestruggle and leaves a certain margin of play for the active intervention of classes. It is for this precise reason that in !arx whole analysis of the process of reproduction leads to the class struggle) *p.D 7+.

The &it is for this precise reason) is rich, as if the class struggle meant for !arx only the struggle over waclaims and hours of work.

Het us consider a little closer the basis of this collapse. #n what is the necessary growth of constant capi by 0 per cent each time based: In the 2uotation given above it was stated that technical progress *the rate population growth being given+ prescribes a given annual growth of constant capital. /o it could then said, without the detour of the production schema4 when the rate of profit becomes less than the rategrowth demanded by technical progress then capitalism must break down. Heaving aside the fact that thas nothing to do with !arx, what is this growth of capital demanded by technology: Technicalimprovements are introduced, in the context of mutual competition, in order to obtain an extra pro*relative surplus value+ the introduction of technical improvements is however limited by the finanresources available. 1nd everybody knows that do%ens of inventions and technical improvements are introduced and are often deliberately suppressed by the entrepreneurs so as not to devalue the existi

technical apparatus. The necessity of technical progress does not act as an external force it works throumen, and for them necessity is not valid beyond possibility.

But let us admit that this is correct and that, as a result of technical progress, constant capital has to havvarying proportion, as in the schema4 in the 9 th year 90 4=07, in the 9=th year =D=04@ , in the 9@th @0 D4@7@, and in the 9Dth, @D0D4@@0. In the 9@th year the surplus value is only @7@, and is n@0 , to be added to constant capital and 7D, to variable capital. Grossmann lets the constant capitalgrow by @0 , and retains only 0@, as the increase in variable capital 00, too little; 5e says ofthis4

&00,@ > workers *out of @@0, + remain unemployed the reserve army begins to form. 1nd because the whole of the w

population does not enter the process of production, the whole amount of extra constant capital *@0 ,@D9+ is not needed purchase of means of production. If a population of @@0,@C= uses a constant capital of @,D0D,7 , then a population ofwould use a constant capital of only @,=>>, 0@. There, therefore, remains ane6cess capital of 00 ,0C@ without an investmentoutlet. Thus the schema shows a perfect example of the situation !arx had in mind when he gave the corresponding part of third volume ofCapital the title LExcess $apital and Excess ?opulation6 *p. 00D+).

090



Grossmann has clearly not noticed that these 00, become unemployed only because, in a completearbitrary fashion and without giving any reason, he makes the variable capital bear the whole deficit, whletting the constant capital calmly grow by 0 percent as if nothing was wrong but when he realises ththere are no workers for all these machines, or more correctly that there is no money to pay their wages, prefers not to install them and so has to let the capital lie unused. It is only through this mistake that arrives at a &perfect example) of a phenomenon which appears during ordinary capitalist crises. In fact entrepreneurs can only expand their production to the extent that their capital is enough for both machinand wages combined. If the total surplus value is too small, this will be divided, in accordance with assumed technical constraint, proportionately between the elements of capital the calculation shows that

the @7@,90> surplus value, @ ,= > must be added to constant capital and 7=,>0 to variable capital in oto arrive at the correct proportion corresponding to technical progress. 'ot 00, but 0,97D workers are setfree and there is no 2uestion of excess capital. If the schemes is continued in this correct way, instead ocatastrophic eruption there is an extremely slow increase in the number of workers laid off.

But how can someone attribute this alleged collapse to !arx and produce, chapter after chapter, do%ens 2uotations from !arx: 1ll these 2uotations in fact relate to economic crises, to the alternating cycle of prosperity and depression. hile the schema has to serve to show a predetermined final economic collapsafter 9@ years, we read two pages further on of &the !arxian theory of the economic cycle expounded he*p. 079+.

Grossmann is only able to give the impression that he is presenting a theory of !arx6s by continualscattering in this way throughout his own statements comments which !arx made on periodic crises. Bunothing at all is to be found in !arx about a final collapse in line with Grossmann6s schema. It is true thGrossmann 2uotes a couple of passages which do not deal with crises. Thus he writes on page 7D94

&It appears that Lcapitalist production meets in the development of its productive forces a barrier...6 *!arx,Capital , Kol. III, p.79 +).

But if we open Kolume III ofCapital at page 79 we read there4

&But the main thing about their Mi.e., <icardo and other economistsN horror of the falling rate of profit is the feeling that c

production meets in the development of its productive forces a barrier... &

which is something 2uite different. 1nd on page > Grossmann gives this 2uotation from !arx as proof thaeven the word &collapse) comes from !arx4

&This process would soon bring about the collapse of capitalist production if it were not for counteracting tendencies, whichcontinuous decentralising effect alongside the centripetal one *Capital , Kol. II, p. 7=0+).

1s Grossmann correctly emphasises, these counteracting tendencies refer to &soon) so that,ith them the process only takes place more slowly. But was !arx talking here of a purely economic collapse: Het us reathe passage which precedes in !arx4

&It is this same severance of the conditions of production, on the one hand, from the producers, on the other, that formconception of capital. It begins with primitive accumulation, appears as a permanent process in the accumulation concentration of capital, and expresses itself finally as centralisation of existing capitals in a few hands and a deprivation of mof their capital *to which expropriation is now changed+).

It is clear that the collapse which thus results is, as so often in !arx, the ending of capitalism by socialism/o there is nothing in the 2uotations from !arx4 a final economic catastrophe can be as little read from theas it can be concluded from the reproduction schema. But can the schema serve to analyse and expla periodic crises: Grossmann seeks to oin the two together4 &The !arxian theory of collapse is at the samtime a theory of crises) so reads the beginning of $hapter C *p. 09 +. But as proof he only provides diagram *p. 0=0+ in which a steeply rising Laccumulation line6 is divided after 9@ years but here a occurs every @ or years when in the schema everything is going smoothly. If a more rapid collapsedesired it would be obtained if the annual rate of growth of constant capital was not 0 per cent but mugreater. In the ascendant period of the economic cycle there is in fact a much more rapid growth of capi

097



the volume of production increases by leaps and bounds but this growth has nothing at all to do wtechnical progress. Indeed, in these periods variable capital too increases rapidly by leaps. But why themust be a collapse after @ or years remains obscure. In other words, the real causes which produce rapid rise and then the collapse of economic activity are of a 2uite different nature from what is set outGrossmann6s reproduction schema.

!arx speaks of over-accumulation precipitating a crisis, of there being too much accumulated surplus valuwhich is not invested and which depresses profits. But Grossmann6s collapse comes about through th being too little accumulated surplus value.

The simultaneous surplus of unused capital and unemployed workers is a typical feature of crisGrossmann6s schema leads to a lack of sufficient capital, which he can only transform into a surplus committing the mistake mentioned above. /o Grossmann6s schema cannot demonstrate a final collapse, ndoes it correspond to the real phenomena of collapse, crises.

It can also be added that his schema, in conformity with its origin, suffers from the same defect as Bauerthe real, impetuous pushing forward of capitalism over the world which brings more and more peoples units domination is here represented by a calm and regular population growth of @ per cent a year, acapitalism was confined in a closed national economy.

:!ossman %e!s&s a!"

Grossmann prides himself for having for the first time correctly reconstructed !arx6s theory in the face the distortions of the /ocial emocrats.

&#ne of these new additions to knowledge)

*he proudly says at the beginning of the introduction+,

&is the theory of collapse, set out below, which represents the portal column of !arx6s system of economic though).

e have seen how little what Grossmann considers to be a theory of collapse has to do with !arx. 'evertheless, on his own personal interpretation, he could well believe himself to be in agreement wit!arx. But there are other points where this does not hold. Because he sees his schema as a correcrepresentation of capitalist development, Grossman deduces from it in various places explanations whichhe himself had partly noticed, contradict the views developed inCapital .

This is so, first of all, for the industrial reserve army. 1ccording to Grossmann6s schema, from the 9@th a certain number of workers become unemployed and a reserve army forms.

&The formation of the reserve army, vi%., the laying off of workers, which we are discussing, must be rigorously distingfrom the laying off of workers due to machines. The elimination of workers by machines which !arx describes in the empir

part of the first volume ofCapital *$hapter 09+ is a technical fact . . . *pp. 07C->+ . . . but the laying off of workers, the formaof the reserve army, which !arx speaks of in the chapter on the accumulation of capital *$hapter 79 + is not caused as has becompletely ignored until now in the literature by the technical fact of the introduction of machines, but by thelack ofin%estment opportunities ...*p. 09 +).

This amounts basically to saying4 if the sparrows fly away, it is not because of the gunshot but becausetheir timidity. The workers are eliminated by machines the expansion of production allows them in partfind work again in this coming and going some of them are passed by or remain outside. !ust the fact ththey have not yet been re-engaged be regarded as the cause of their unemployment: If $hapter 79 ofCapitalKol. I is read, it is always elimination by machines that is treated as the cause of the reserve army, which partially reabsorbed or released anew and reproduces itself as overpopulation, according to the econom

situation. Grossmann worries himself for several pages over the proof that it is the economic relation c4v operates here, and not the technical relation means of production4labour power in fact the two are identiBut this formation of the reserve army, which according to !arx occurs everywhere and always from thcommencement of capitalism, and in which workers are replaced by machines, is not identical to the alle

099



formation of the reserve army according to Grossmann, which starts as a conse2uence of accumulation af9= years of technical progress.

It is the same with the export of capital. In long explanations all the !arxist writers Karga, Bukharin, 'achimson, 5ilferding, #tto Bauer, <osa Huxemburg are one after the other demolished because they allstate the view that the export of capital takes place for a higher profit. 1s Karga says4

&It is not because it is absolutely impossible to accumulate capital at home that capital is exported....but because there exis prospect of a higher profit abroad) *2uoted by Grossmann, p. =>C+.

Grossmann attacks this view as incorrect and un-!arxist4

&It is not the higher profit abroad, but the lack of investment opportunities at home that is the ultimate reason for the expocapital) *p. @D0+.

5e then introduces numerous 2uotations from !arx about overaccumulation and refers to his schema, inwhich after 9@ years the growing mass of capital can no longer be employed at home and so mustexported.

Het us recall that according to the schema, however, there was too little capital in existence for the exist population and that his capital surplus was only an error of calculation. 3urther, in all the 2uotations fro!arx, Grossmann has forgotten to cite the one where !arx himself speaks of the export of capital4

&If capital is sent abroad, this is not done because it absolutely could not be applied at home, but because it can be employehigher rate of profit in a foreign country) *Kol. III, p. 7@0+.

The fall in the rate of profit is one of the most important parts of !arx6s theory of capital he was the first state and prove that this tendency to fall, which expresses itself periodically in crises, was the embodimenthe transitory nature of capitalism. ith Grossmann it is another phenomenon which comes to the fore4 aftthe 9@th year workers are laid off en masse and capital is at the same time created in excess. 1s a result deficit of surplus value in the following year is more serious, so that yet more labour and capital are left idwith the fall in the number of workers, the mass of surplus value produced decreases and capitalism sinstill deeper into catastrophe. 5as not Grossmann seen the contradiction here with !arx: Indeed he hasThus, after some introductory remarks, he sets to work in the chapter entitled &The $auses of t!isunderstanding of the !arxian Theory of 1ccumulation and $ollapseJ4

&The time is not ripe for a reconstruction of the !arxian theory of collapse *p. 0>@+. The fact that the third chapter of Koluis, as Engels says in the preface, presented, &as a series of uncompleted mathematical calculations) must be given as an extreason for the misunderstanding).

Engels was helped in his editing by his friend, the mathematician /amuel !oore4

&But !oore was not an economist....The mode of origin of this part of the work therefore makes it probable even in advance

many opportunities for misunderstanding and error exist here and that these errors could then easily have been carried overinto the chapter dealing with the tendency of the rate of profit to fall...)

*'B4 these chapters had already been written by !arx;+

&The probability of error becomes almost certain when we consider that it is a 2uestion here of a single word which, unfortunately,completely distorts the whole sense of the analysis4 the inevitable end of capitalism is attributed to the relative fall in theinstead of in the mass of profit. Engels or !oore had certainly made a slip of the pen *p. 0>@+).

/o this is what the reconstruction of !arx6s theory looks like; 1nother 2uotation is given in a note whichsays4

&In the words in brackets. Engels or !arx himself made a slip of the pen it should read correctly and at the same time a mas profit which falls in relative value).MTranslator6s note4 Grossmann refers to the passage on p. 70= of Kol. III which reads4 &5ence, the same laws producesocial capital a growing absolute mass of profit, and a falling rate of profitJN.

09=



/o now it is !arx himself who makes mistakes. 1nd here it concerns a passage where the sense, as given inthe text ofCapital , is unambiguously clear. !arx6s whole analysis, which ends with the passage Grossmannfinds necessary to change, is a continuation of a passage where !arx explains4

&...the mass of the surplus value produced by it, and therefore the absolute mass of the profit produced by it,can , conse2uently,increase, and increase progressively, in spite of the progressive drop in the rate of profit. 1nd this not onlycan be so. 1side fromtemporary fluctuations itmust be so, on the basis of capitalist production) *Kol. III, p. 709.

!arx then sets out the reasons why the mass of profit must increase and says once again4

&1s the process of production and accumulation advances therefore, the mass of available and appropriated surplus labourhence the absolute mass of profit appropriated by the social capitalmust grow) *Kol. III, p. 70=+.

Thus the exact opposite to the onset of the collapse invented by Grossmann. In the following pages thisrepeated yet more often the whole of $hapter 09 consists of a presentation of

&the law that a fall in the rate of profit due to the development of productiveness is accompanied by an increase in the ma profit...) *Kol. III, p. 770+.

/o there can remain not the slightest doubt that !arx wanted to say precisely what was printed there and thahe had not made a slip of the pen. 1nd when Grossmann writes4

&The collapse cannot therefore result from the fall in the rate of profit. 5ow could a percentage proportion, such as the ra profit, a pure number, bring about the collapse of a real economic system;) *p. 0>D+.

he thereby shows yet again that he has understood nothing of !arx and that his collapse is in completcontradiction with !arx.

5ere is the point at which he could have convinced himself of the instability of his construction. But if had allowed himself to be taught by !arx here, then his whole theory would have fallen and his book wounot have been written.

The fairest way of describing Grossmann6s book is as a patchwork of 2uotations from !arx, incorrectapplied and stuck together by means of a fabricated theory. Each time a proof is re2uired, a 2uotation fr!arx, which does not deal with the point in 2uestion, is introduced, and it is the correctness of !arx6s wordwhich is supposed to give the reader the impression that the theory is correct.

isto!ical mate!ialism

The 2uestion which in the end merits attention is how can an economist who believes he is correcreconstructing !arx6s views, and who further states with naive self-assurance that he is the first to givecorrect interpretation of them, be so completely mistaken and find himself in complete contradiction w!arx. The reason lies in the lack of a historical materialist understanding. 3or you will not understan!arxian economics at all unless you have made the historical materialist way of thinking your own.

3or !arx the development of human society, and so also the economic development of capitalism, idetermined by a firm necessity like a law of nature. But this development is at the same time the workmen who play their role in it and where each person determines his own acts with consciousness and purp though not with a consciousness of the social whole. To the bourgeois way of seeing things, there is acontradiction here either what happens depends on human free choice or, if it is governed by fixed lawthen these act as an external, mechanical constraint on men. 3or !arx all social necessity is accomplished bmen this means that a man6s thinking, wanting and acting although appearing as a free choice in hiconsciousness are completely determined by the action of the environment it is only through the totalitof these human acts, determined mainly by social forces, that conformity to laws is achieved in socdevelopment.

09@



The social forces which determine development are thus not only purely economic acts, but also the gene political acts determined by them, which provide production with the necessary norms of right. $onformto law does not reside solely in the action of competition which fixes prices and profits and concentracapital, but also in the establishment of free competition, of free production by bourgeois revolutions nonly in the movement of wages, in the expansion and contraction of production in prosperity ant crisis, in closing of factories and the laying off of workers, but also in the revolt, the struggle of the workers, tcon2uest by them of power over society and production in order to establish new norms of right. Economas the totality of men working and striving to satisfy their subsistence needs, and politics *in its widsense+, as the action and struggle of these men as classes to satisfy these needs, form a single unified dom

of law-governed development. The accumulation of capital, crises, pauperisation, the proletarian revolutithe sei%ure of power by the working class form together, acting like a natural law, an indivisible unity,collapse of capitalism.

The bourgeois way of thinking, which does not understand that this is a unity, has always played a great rnot only outside but also within the workers6 movement. In the old radical /ocial emocracy the fataliview was current, understandable in view of the historical circumstances, that the revolution would one come as a natural necessity and that in the meantime the workers should not try anything dangerou<eformism 2uestioned the need for a Lviolent6 revolution and believed that the intelligence of statesmenleaders would tame capitalism by reform and organisation. #thers believed that the proletariat had to educated to revolutionary virtue by moral preaching. The consciousness was always lacking that this vironly found its natural necessity through economic forces, and that the revolution only found its natunecessity through the mental forces of men. #ther views have now appeared. #n the one hand capitalism h proved itself strong and unassailable against all reformism, all the skills of leaders, all attempts at revolutiall these have appeared ridiculous in the face of its immense strength. But, on the other hand, terrible criat the same time reveal its internal weakness. hoever now takes up !arx and studies him is deeplyimpressed by the irresistible, law-governed nature of the collapse and welcomes these ideas with enthusia

But if his basic way of thinking is bourgeois he cannot conceive this necessity other than as an external foacting on men. $apitalism is for him a mechanical system in which men participate as economic persocapitalists, buyers, sellers, wage-workers, etc., but otherwise must submit in a purely passive way to wthis mechanism imposes on them in view of its internal structure.

This mechanistic conception can also be recognised in Grossmann6s statements on wages when he violeattacks <osa Huxemburg

&Everywhere one comes across an incredible, barbarous mutilation of the !arxian theory of wages) *p. @C@+.

precisely where she 2uite correctly treats the value of labour-power as a 2uantity that can be expanded othe basis of the standard of living attained. 3or Grossmann the value of labour-power is &not an elastic, bfixed 2uantity) *p. @CD+. 1cts of human choice such as the workers6 struggles can have no influence the only way in which wages can rise is through a higher intensity of labour obliging the replacement of greater 2uantity of labour-power expended.

5ere it is the same mechanistic view4 the mechanism determines economic 2uantities while struggling acting men stand outside this relation. Grossmann appeals again to !arx for this, where the latter writes othe value of labour-power4

&'evertheless, in a given country, at a given period, the average 2uantity of the means of subsistence necessary for the labour practically known) *Capital . Kol. I, p. 0 0+

but Grossmann has unfortunately once again overlooked that in !arx this passage is immediately precede by4

&In contradiction therefore to the case of other commodities, there enters into the determination of the value of labour-pohistorical and moral elemen).

09D



/tarting from his bourgeois way of thinking Grossmann states in his criticism of various /ocial emocraticviews4

& e see4 the collapse of capitalism is either denied or based, in a voluntarist way, on extra-economic, political factors. Teconomic proof of the necessity of the collapse of capitalism has never been produced) *pp. @C-@>+.

1nd he cites with approval an opinion of Tugan-Baranovsky that, in order to prove the necessity for ttransformation of capitalism into its opposite, a rigid proof of the impossibility for capitalism to continexisting must first be produced. Tugan himself denies this impossibility and wishes to give socialismethical basis. But that Grossmann chooses to call as witness this <ussian liberal economist who, as is knowwas always completely alien to !arxism, shows to what degree their basic way of thinking is related, despitheir opposed practical points of view *see also Grossmann, p. 0 C+. The !arxian view that the collapse capitalism will be the act of the working class and thus a political act *in the widest sense of this wogeneral social, which is inseparable from the take-over of economic power+ Grossmann can only understas Lvoluntarist6, i.e., that it is something that is, governed by men6s choice, by free will.

The collapse of capitalism in !arx does depend on the act of will of the working class but this will is notfree choice, but is itself determined by economic development. The contradictions of the capitalist economwhich repeatedly emerge in unemployment, crises, wars, class struggles, repeatedly determine the willrevolution of the proletariat. /ocialism comes not because capitalism collapses economically and me

workers and others, are forced by necessity to create a new organisation, but because capitalism, as it livand grows, becomes more and more unbearable for the workers and repeatedly pushes them to struggle uthe will and strength to overthrow the domination of capitalism and establish a new organisation growsthem, and then capitalism collapses. The working class is not pushed to act because the unbearablenesscapitalism is demonstrated to them from the outside, but because they feel it generated within them. !arxtheory, as economics, shows how the above phenomena irresistibly reappear with greater and greater foand, as historical materialism, how they necessarily give rise to the revolutionary will and the revolutionact.

T#e ne- -o!ke!s< mo%ement

It is understandable that Grossmann6s book should have been given some attention by the spokesmen ofnew workers6 movement since he attacks the same enemy as them. The new workers6 movement haattack /ocial emocracy and the ?arty $ommunism of the Third International, two branches of the sametree, because they accommodate the working class to capitalism. Grossmann attacks the theoreticiansthese currents for having distorted and falsified !arx6s teachings, and insists on the necessary collapse capitalism. 5is conclusions sound similar to ours, but their sense and essence are completely different. also are of the opinion that the /ocial emocratic theorists, good theoretical experts that they often wernevertheless distorted !arx6s doctrine but their mistake was historical, the theoretical precipitate of an ear period of the struggle of the proletariat. Grossmann6s mistake is that of a bourgeois economist who has nehad practical experience of the struggle of the proletariat and who is conse2uently not in a positionunderstand the essence of !arxism.

1n example of how his conclusions apparently agree with the views of the new workers6 movement, but in essence completely opposed, is to be found in his theory of wages. 1ccording to his schema, after years, with the collapse, a rapidly climbing unemployment appears. 1s a result wages sink well below tvalue of labour-power, without an effective resistance being possible.

&5ere the ob ective limit of trade union action is given) *p. @>>+. 5owever familiar this sounds, the ba2uite different. The powerlessness of trade union action, which has been evident for a long time, should n be attributed to an economic collapse, but to a shift in the balance of social power. Everyone knows how increased power of the employers6 combines of concentrated big capital has made the working clarelatively powerless. To which is now added the effects of a severe crisis which depresses wages, happened in every previous crisis.

09



The purely economic collapse of capitalism which Grossmann constructs does not involve a comple passivity by the proletariat. 3or, when the collapse takes place the working class must precisely prepare itsto re-establish production on a new basis.

&Thus evolution pushes towards the development and exacerbation of the internal oppositions between capital and labour unsolution which can come only from the struggle between the two classes is brought about) *p. @>>+.

This final struggle is linked also with the wages struggle because *as was already mentioned above+catastrophe can be postponed by depressing wages or hastened by raising them. But it is the economcatastrophe that is for Grossmann the really essential factor, the new order being forcibly imposed on m$ertainly, the workers, as the mass of the population, are to supply the preponderant force of the revoluti ust as in the bourgeois revolutions of the past where they formed the mass force for action but, as in hunrevolts in general, this is independent of their revolutionary maturity, of their capacity to take power osociety and to hold it. This means that a revolutionary group, a party with socialist aims, would haveappear as a new governing power in place of the old in order to introduce some kind of planned economy.

The theory of the economic catastrophe is thus ready-made for intellectuals who recognise the untenabcharacter of capitalism and who want a planned economy to be built by capable economists and leaders. 1it must be expected that many other such theories will come from these 2uarters or meet with approval thThe theory of the necessary collapse will also be able to exercise a certain attraction over revolutiona

workers. They see the overwhelming ma ority of the proletarian masses still attached to the oorganisations, the old leaders, the old methods, blind to the task which the new development imposes them, passive and immobile, with no signs of revolutionary energy. The few revolutionaries who understathe new development might well wish on the stupefied masses a good economic catastrophe so that thfinally come out of the slumber and enter into action. The theory according to which capitalism has todentered its final crisis also provides a decisive, and simple, refutation of reformism and all ?arty programmwhich give priority to parliamentary work and trade union action a demonstration of the necessity orevolutionary tactics which is so convenient that it must be greeted sympathetically by revolutionary grouBut the struggle is never so simple or convenient, not even the theoretical struggle for reasons and proofs.

<eformism was a false tactic, which weakened the working class, not only in crises but also in prosperi?arliamentarism and the trade union tactic did not have to await the present crisis to prove a failure this h been shown for the last hundred years. It is not due to the economic collapse of capitalism but to tenormous development of its strength, to its expansion over all the Earth, to its exacerbation of politioppositions, to the violent reinforcement of its inner strength, that the proletariat must take mass actisummoning up the strength of the whole class. It is this shift in the relations of power that is the basis for new direction for the workers6 movement.

The workers6 movement has not to expect a final catastrophe, but many catastrophes, political like warand economic like the crises which repeatedly break out, sometimes regularly, sometimes irregularly, buwhich on the whole, with the growing si%e of capitalism, become more and more devastating. /o illusions and tendencies to tran2uillity of the proletariat will repeatedly collapse, and sharp and deep clstruggles will break out. It appears to be a contradiction that the present crisis, deeper and more devastatthan any previous one, has not shown signs of the awakening of the proletarian revolution. But the remoof old illusions is its first great task4 on the other hand, the illusion of making capitalism bearable by meof reforms obtained through /ocial emocratic parliamentary politics and trade union action and, on thother, the illusion that capitalism can be overthrown in assault under the leadership of a revolution-bring$ommunist ?arty. The working class itself, as a whole, must conduct the struggle, but, while the bourgeoisis already building up its power more and more solidly, the working class has yet to make itself familiar wthe new forms of struggle. /evere struggles are bound to take place. 1nd should the present crisis abate, necrises and new struggles will arise. In these struggles the working class will develop its strength to struggwill discover its aims, will train itself, will make itself independent and learn to take into its hands its odestiny, vi%., social production itself. In this process the destruction of capitalism is achieved. The semancipation of the proletariat is the collapse of capitalism.

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Anton Pannekoek 19*

Pa!t$ and )lassThe old labor movement is organi%ed in parties. The belief in parties is the main reason for the impotencthe working class therefore we avoid forming a new party not because we are too few, but because a partyis an organi%ation that aims to lead and control the working class. In opposition to this, we maintain thaworking class can rise to victory only when it independently attacks its problems and decides its own faThe workers should not blindly accept the slogans of others, nor of our own groups but must think, act, adecide for themselves. This conception is on sharp contradiction to the tradition of the party as the mimportant means of educating the proletariat. Therefore many, though repudiating the /ocialist an$ommunist parties, resist and oppose us. This is partly due to their traditional concepts after viewing tclass struggle as a struggle of parties, it becomes difficult to consider it as purely the struggle of the workclass, as a class struggle. But partly this concept is based on the idea that the party nevertheless plays essential and important part in the struggle of the proletariat. Het us investigate this latter idea more close

Essentially the party is a grouping according to views, conceptions the classes are groupings accordingeconomic interests. $lass membership is determined by oneOs part in the process of production pamembership is the oining of persons who agree in their conceptions of the social problems. 3ormerly it w

thought that this contradiction would disappear in the class party, the &workers) party. uring the rise /ocial emocracy it seemed that it would gradually embrace the whole working class, partly as members partly as supporters. because !arxian theory declared that similar interests beget similar viewpoints anaims, the contradiction between party and class was expected gradually to disappear. 5istory proveotherwise. /ocial emocracy remained a minority, other working class groups organi%ed against it, sectiosplit away from it, and its own character changed. Its own program was revised or reinterpreted. Tevolution of society does not proceed along a smooth, even line, but in conflicts and contradictions.

ith the intensification of the workersO struggle, the might of the enemy also increases and besets thworkers with renewed doubts and fears as to which road is best. 1nd every doubt brings on splitcontradictions, and fractional battles within the labor movement. It is futile to bewail these conflicts asplits as harmful in dividing and weakening the working class. The working class is not weak because isplit up it is split up because it is weak. Because the enemy is powerful and the old methods of warfar prove unavailing, the working class must seek new methods. Its task will not become clear as the resultenlightenment from above it must discover its tasks through hard work, through thought and conflictopinions. It must find its own way therefore, the internal struggle. It must relin2uish old ideas and illusiand adopt new ones, and because this is difficult, therefore the magnitude and severity of the splits.

'or can we delude ourselves into believing that this period of party and ideological strife is only temporaand will make way to renewed harmony. True, in the course of the class struggle there are occasions whall forces unite in a great achievable ob ective and the revolution is carried on with the might of a unitworking class. But after that, as after every victory, come differences on the 2uestion4 what next: 1nd evif the working class is victorious, it is always confronted by the most difficult task of subduing the enemfurther, of reorgani%ing production, creating new order. It is impossible that all workers, all strata groups, with their often still diverse interests should, at this stage, agree on all matters and be ready united and decisive further action. They will find the true course only after the sharpest controversies aconflicts and only thus achieve clarity.

If, in this situation, persons with the same fundamental conceptions unite for the discussion of practical stand seek clarification through discussions and propagandi%e their conclusions, such groups might be ca parties, but they would be parties in an entirely different sense from those of today. 1ction, the actual clastruggle, is the task of the working masses themselves, in their entirety, in their real groupings as factory amillhands, or other productive groups, because history and economy have placed them in the position whthey must and can fight the working class struggle. It would be insane if the supporters of one party werego on strike while those of another continue to work. But both tendencies will defend their positions strike or no strike in the factory meetings, thus affording an opportunity to arrive at a well founded decisi

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The struggle is so great, the enemy so powerful that only the masses as a whole can achieve a victory thresult of the material and moral power of action, unity and enthusiasm, but also the result of the mental foof thought, of clarity. In this lies the great importance of such parties or groups based on opinions4 that t bring clarity in their conflicts, discussions and propaganda. They are the organs of the self-enlightenmenthe working class by means of which the workers find their way to freedom.

#f course such parties are not static and unchangeable. Every new situation, every new problem will fiminds diverging and uniting in new groups with new programs. They have a fluctuating character aconstantly read ust themselves to new situations.

$ompared to such groups, the present workersO parties have an entirely different character, for they havdifferent ob ective4 they want to sei%e power for themselves. They aim not at being an aid to the worclass in its struggle for emancipation but to rule it themselves and proclaim that this constitutes temancipation of the proletariat. The /ocial- emocracy which arose in the era of parliamentarism conceiveof this rule as a parliamentary government. The $ommunist ?arty carried the idea of part rule through to fullest extreme in the party dictatorship.

/uch parties, in distinction to the groups described above, must be rigid structures with clear lines demarcation through membership cards, statues, party discipline and admission and expulsion procedur3or they are instruments of power they fight for power, bridle their members by force and constantly seekto extend the scope of their power. It is not their task to develop the initiative of the workers rather do thaim at training loyal and un2uestioning members of their faith. hile the working class in its struggle fo power and victory needs unlimited intellectual freedom, the party rule must suppress all opinions exceptown. In &democratic) parties, the suppression is veiled in the dictatorship parties, it is open, brusuppression.

!any workers already reali%e that the rule of the /ocialist or $ommunist party will be only the concealeform of the rule of the bourgeois class in which the exploitation and suppression of the working claremains. Instead of these parties, they urge the formation of a &revolutionary party) that will really aim atrule of the workers and the reali%ation of communism. 'ot a party in the new sense as described above, bu party like those of today, that fight for power as the &vanguard) of the class, as the organi%ationconscious, revolutionary minorities, that sei%e power in order to use it for the emancipation of the class.

e claim that there is an internal contradiction in the term4 &revolutionary party.) /uch a party cannot brevolutionary. It is no more revolutionary than were the creators of the Third <eich. hen we speak ofrevolution, we speak of the proletarian revolution, the sei%ure of power by the working class itself.

The &revolutionary party) is based on the idea that the working class needs a new group of leaders wvan2uish the bourgeoisie for the workers and construct a new government *note that the working class inot yet considered fit to reorgani%e and regulate production.+ But is not this as it should be: 1s the workclass does not seem capable of revolution, is it not necessary that the revolutionary vanguard, the par

make the revolution for it: 1nd is this not true as long as the masses willingly endure capitalism:1gainst this, we raise the 2uestion4 what force can such a party raise for the revolution: 5ow is it able defeat the capitalist class: #nly if the masses stand behind it. #nly if the masses rise and through masattacks, mass struggle, and mass strikes, overthrow the old regime. ithout the action of the masses, thercan be no revolution.

Two things can follow. The masses remain in action4 they do not go home and leave the government to new party. They organi%e their power in factory and workshop and prepare for further conflict in ordedefeat capital through the workersO councils they establish a form union to take over the complete direcof all society in other words, they prove, they are not as incapable of revolution as it seemed. #f necessity

then, conflict will arise with the party which itself wants to take control and which sees only disorder aanarchy in the self-action of the working class. ?ossibly the workers will develop their movement and sweout the party. #r, the party, with the help of bourgeois elements defeats the workers. In either case, the pa

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is an obstacle to the revolution because it wants to be more than a means of propaganda and enlightenme because it feels itself called upon to lead and rule as a party.

#n the other hand the masses may follow the party faith and leave it to the full direction of affairs. Thfollow the slogans from above, have confidence in the new government *as in Germany and <ussia+ that reali%e communism and go back home and to work. Immediately the bourgeoisie exerts its whole cla power the roots of which are unbroken its financial forces, its great intellectual resources, and its econom power in factories and great enterprises. 1gainst this the government party is too weak. #nly througmoderation, concessions and yielding can it maintain that it is insanity for the workers to try to for

impossible demands. Thus the party deprived of class power becomes the instrument for maintaini bourgeois power.

e said before that the term &revolutionary party) was contradictory from a proletarian point of view. ecan state it otherwise4 in the term &revolutionary party,) &revolutionary) always means a bourgrevolution. 1lways, when the masses overthrow a government and then allow a new party to take power, whave a bourgeois revolution the substitution of a ruling caste by a new ruling caste. it was so in ?aris in0C9 when the finance bourgeoisie supplanted the landed proprietors, in 0C=C when the indust bourgeoisie took over the reins.

In the <ussian revolution the party bureaucracy came to power as the ruling caste. But in estern Europeand 1merica the bourgeoisie is much more powerfully entrenched in plants and banks, so that a par bureaucracy cannot push them aside as easily. The bourgeoisie in these countries can be van2uished onlyrepeated and united action of the masses in which they sei%e the mills and factories and build up thcouncil organi%ations.

Those who speak of &revolutionary parties) draw incomplete, limited conclusions from history. hen th/ocialist and $ommunist parties became organs of bourgeois rule for the perpetuation of exploitation, thewell-meaning people merely concluded that they would have to do better. They cannot reali%e that the faiof these parties is due to the fundamental conflict between the self-emancipation of the working clathrough its own power and the pacifying of the revolution through a new sympathetic ruling cli2ue. Ththink they are the revolutionary vanguard because they see the masses indifferent and inactive. But tmasses are inactive only because they cannot yet comprehend the course of the struggle and the unityclass interests, although they instinctively sense the great power of the enemy and the immenseness of thtask. #nce conditions force them into action they will attack the task of self-organi%ation and the con2uesthe economic power of capital.

Anton Pannekoek

T!ade nionism5ow must the working class fight capitalism in order to win: This is the all important 2uestion facing tworkers every day. hat efficient means of action, what tactics can they use to con2uer power and defeathe enemy: 'o science, no theory, could tell them exactly what to do. But spontaneously and instinctively by feeling out, by sensing the possibilities, they found their ways of action. 1nd as capitalism grew acon2uered the earth and increased its power, the power of the workers also increased. 'ew modes of actionwider and more efficient, came up beside the old ones. It is evident that with changing conditions, the forof action, the tactics of the class struggle have to change also. Trade unionism is the primary form of labmovement in fixed capitalism. The isolated worker is powerless against the capitalistic employer. Tovercome this handicap, the workers organise into unions. The union binds the workers together incommon action, with the strike as their weapon. Then the balance of power is relatively e2ual, or sometimes even heaviest on the side of the workers, so that the isolated small employer is weak against

mighty union. 5ence in developed capitalism trade unions and employersO unions *1ssociations, Tru$orporations, etc.+, stand as fighting powers against each other.

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Trade unionism first arose in England, where industrial capitalism first developed. 1fterward it spread other countries, as a natural companion of capitalist industry. In the "nited /tates there were very speciconditions. In the beginning, the abundance of free unoccupied land, open to settlers, made for a shortageworkers in the towns and relatively high wages and good conditions. The 1merican 3ederation of Habo became a power in the country, and generally was able to uphold a relatively high standard of living for workers who were organised in its unions.

It is clear that under such conditions the idea of overthrowing capitalism could not for a moment arise in minds of the workers. $apitalism offered them a sufficient and fairly secure living. They did not fe

themselves a separate class whose interests were hostile to the existing order they were part of it they wconscious of partaking in all the possibilities of an ascending capitalism in a new continent. There was rofor millions of people, coming mostly from Europe. 3or these increasing millions of farmers, a rapiincreasing industry was necessary, where, with energy and good luck, workmen could rise to become fartisans, small business men, even rich capitalists. It is natural that here a true capitalist spirit prevailed inworking class.

The same was the case in England. 5ere it was due to EnglandOs monopoly of world commerce and industry, to the lack of competitors on the foreign markets, and to the possession of rich colonies, whi brought enormous wealth to England. The capitalist class had no need to fight for its profits and could allthe workers a reasonable living. #f course, at first, fighting was necessary to urge this truth upon them bthen they could allow unions and grant wages in exchange for industrial peace. /o here also the workinclass was imbued with the capitalist spirit.

'ow this is entirely in harmony with the innermost character of trade unionism. Trade unionism is an actioof the workers, which does not go beyond the limit of capitalism. Its aim is not to replace capitalism another form of production, but to secure good living conditions within capitalism. Its character is nrevolutionary, but conservative.

$ertainly, trade union action is class struggle. There is a class antagonism in capitalism -- capitalists aworkers have opposing interests. 'ot only on the 2uestion of conservation of capitalism, but also withcapitalism itself, with regard to the division of the total product. The capitalists attempt to increase th profits, the surplus value, as much as possible, by cutting down wages and increasing the hours or tintensity of labour. #n the other hand, the workers attempt to increase their wages and to shorten their houof work.

The price of labour power is not a fixed 2uantity, though it must exceed a certain hunger minimum and inot paid by the capitalists of their own free will. Thus this antagonism becomes the ob ect of a contest, real class struggle. It is the task, the function of the trade unions to carry on this fight.

Trade unionism was the first training school in proletarian virtue, in solidarity as the spirit of organisfighting. It embodied the first form of proletarian organised power. In the early English and 1merican tra

unions this virtue often petrified and degenerated into a narrow craft-corporation, a true capitalistic statemind. It was different, however, where the workers had to fight for their very existence, where the utmefforts of their unions could hardly uphold their standard of living, where the full force of an energetfighting, and expanding capitalism attacked them. There they had to learn the wisdom that only trevolution could definitely save them.

/o there comes a disparity between the working class and trade unionism. The working class has to loo beyond capitalism. Trade unionism lives entirely within capitalism and cannot look beyond it. Traunionism can only represent a part, a necessary but narrow part, in the class struggle. 1nd it develops aspewhich bring it into conflict with the greater aims of the working class.

ith the growth of capitalism and big industry the unions too must grow. They become big corporationwith thousands of members, extending over the whole country, with sections in every town and evefactory. #fficials must be appointed4 presidents, secretaries, treasurers, to conduct the affairs, to manage finances, locally and centrally. They are the leaders, who negotiate with the capitalists and who by th

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practice have ac2uired a special skill. The president of a union is a big shot, as big as the capitalist emplohimself, and he discusses with him, on e2ual terms, the interests of his members. The officials are specialin trade union work, which the members, entirely occupied by their factory work, cannot udge or direthemselves.

/o large a corporation as a union is not simply an assembly of single workers it becomes an organised bodlike a living organism, with its own policy, its own character, its own mentality, its own traditions, its ofunctions. It is a body with its own interests, which are separate from the interests of the working class. It a will to live and to fight for its existence. If it should come to pass that unions were no longer necessary

the workers, then they would not simply disappear. Their funds, their members, and their officials4 allthese are realities that will not disappear at once, but continue their existence as elements of the organisati

The union officials, the labour leaders, are the bearers of the special union interests. #riginally workmfrom the shop, they ac2uire, by long practice at the head of the organisation, a new social character. In easocial group, once it is big enough to form a special group, the nature of its work moulds and determinessocial character, its mode of thinking and acting. The officialsO function is entirely different from that oworkers. They do not work in factories, they are not exploited by capitalists, their existence is not threatecontinually by unemployment. They sit in offices, in fairly secure positions. They have to manacorporation affairs and to speak at workers meetings and discuss with employers. #f course, they have stand for the workers, and to defend their interests and wishes against the capitalists. This is, however, nvery different from the position of the lawyer who, appointed secretary of an organisation, will stand formembers and defend their interests to the full of his capacity.

5owever, there is a difference. Because many of the labour leaders came from the ranks of workers, thhave experienced for themselves what wage slavery and exploitation means. They feel as members of working class and the proletarian spirit often acts as a strong tradition in them. But the new reality of thlife continually tends to weaken this tradition. Economically they are not proletarians any more. They sitconferences with the capitalists, bargaining over wages and hours, pitting interests against interests, ustthe opposing interests of the capitalist corporations are weighed one against another. They learn understand the capitalistOs position ust as well as the workerOs position they have an eye for Jthe neeindustryJ they try to mediate. ?ersonal exceptions occur, of course, but as a rule they cannot have thelementary class feeling of the workers, who do not understand and weigh capitalist interests against thown, but will fight for their proper interests. Thus they get into conflict with the workers.

The labour leaders in advanced capitalism are numerous enough to form a special group or class withspecial class character and interests. 1s representatives and leaders of the unions they embody the characand the interests of the unions. The unions are necessary elements of capitalism, so the leaders feel necesstoo, as useful citi%ens in capitalist society. The capitalist function of unions is to regulate class conflicts to secure industrial peace. /o labour leaders see it as their duty as citi%ens to work for industrial peace mediate in conflicts. The test of the union lies entirely within capitalism so labour leaders do not lo beyond it. The instinct of self-preservation, the will of the unions to live and to fight for existence,

embodied in the will of the labour leaders to fight for the existence of the unions. Their own existenceindissolubly connected with the existence of the unions. This is not meant in a petty sense, that they othink of their personal obs when fighting for the unions. It means that primary necessities of life and socfunctions determine opinions. Their whole life is concentrated in the unions, only here have they a task.the most necessary organ of society, the only source of security and power is to them the unions hence thmust be preserved and defended by all possible means, even when the realities of capitalist socieundermine this position. This happens when capitalismOs expansion class conflicts become sharper.

The concentration of capital in powerful concerns and their connection with big finance renders the positof the capitalist employers much stronger than the workersO. ?owerful industrial magnates reign as monaover large masses of workers they keep them in absolute sub ection and do not allow JtheirJ men to go in

unions. 'ow and then the heavily exploited wage slaves break out in revolt, in a big strike. They hope tenforce better terms, shorter hours, more humane conditions, the right to organise. "nion organisers comeaid them. But then the capitalist masters use their social and political power. The strikers are driven frotheir homes they are shot by militia or hired thugs their spokesmen are railroaded into ail their rel

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actions are prohibited by court in unctions. The capitalist press denounces their cause as disorder, murdand revolution public opinion is aroused against them. Then, after months of standing firm and of hersuffering, exhausted by misery and disappointment, unable to make a dent on the ironclad capitalstructure, they have to submit and to postpone their claims to more opportune times.

In the trades where unions exist as mighty organisations, their position is weakened by this samconcentration of capital. The large funds they had collected for strike support are insignificant in comparito the money power of their adversaries. 1 couple of lock-outs may completely drain them. 'o matter howhard the capitalist employer presses upon the worker by cutting wages and intensifying their hours of labo

the union cannot wage a fight. hen contracts have to be renewed, the union feels itself the weaker party. Ihas to accept the bad terms the capitalists offer no skill in bargaining avails. But now the trouble with rank and file members begins. The men want to fight they will not submit before they have fought and thhave not much to lose by fighting. The leaders, however, have much to lose -- the financial power of tunion, perhaps its existence. They try to avoid the fight, which they consider hopeless. They have convince the men that it is better to come to terms. /o, in the final analysis, they must act as spokesmen the employers to force the capitalistsO terms upon the workers. It is even worse when the workers insisfighting in opposition to the decision of the unions. Then the unionO s power must be used as a weaposubdue the workers.

/o the labour leader has become the slave of his capitalistic task of securing industrial peace -- now at tcost of the workers, though he meant to serve them as best he could. 5e cannot look beyond capitalism, awithin the hori%on of capitalism with a capitalist outlook, he is right when he thinks that fighting is ouse. To criticise him can only mean that trade unionism stands here at the limit of its power.

Is there another way out then: $ould the workers win anything by fighting: ?robably they will lose thimmediate issue of the fight but they will gain something else. By not submitting without having fougthey rouse the spirit of revolt against capitalism. They proclaim a new issue. But here the whole workiclass must oin in. To the whole class, to all their fellow workers, they must show that in capitalism thereno future for them, and that only by fighting, not as a trade union, but as a united class, they can win. Tmeans the beginning of a revolutionary struggle. 1nd when their fellow workers understand this lessowhen simultaneous strikes break out in other trades, when a wave of rebellion goes over the country, thenthe arrogant hearts of the capitalists there may appear some doubt as to their omnipotence and somwillingness to make concessions.

The trade union leader does not understand this point of view, because trade unionism cannot reach beyocapitalism. 5e opposes this kind of fight. 3ighting capitalism in this way means at the same time rebelliagainst the trade unions. The labor leader stands beside the capitalist in their common fear of the workerebellion.

hen the trade unions fought against the capitalist class for better working conditions, the capitalist clashated them, but it had not the power to destroy them completely. If the trade unions would try to raise all

forces of the working class in their fight, the capitalist class would persecute them with all its means. Thmay see their actions repressed as rebellion, their offices destroyed by militia, their leaders thrown in ail afined, their funds confiscated. #n the other hand, if they keep their members from fighting, the capitalclass may consider them as valuable institutions, to be preserved and protected, and their leaders deserving citi%ens. /o the trade unions find themselves between the devil and the deep blue sea on the oside persecution, which is a tough thing to bear for people who meant to be peaceful citi%ens on the otside, the rebellion of the members, which may undermine the unions. The capitalist class, if it is wise, wrecogni%e that a bit of sham fighting must be allowed to uphold the influence of the labor leaders overmembers.

The conflicts arising here are not anyoneOs fault they are an inevitable conse2uence of capita

development. $apitalism exists, but it is at the same time on the way to ruin. It must be fought as a livithing, and at the same time, as a transitory thing. The workers must wage a steady fight for wages aworking conditions, while at the same time communistic ideas, more or less clear and conscious, awakentheir minds. They cling to the unions, feeling that these are still necessary, trying now and then to transfo

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them into better fighting institutions. But the spirit of trade unionism, which is in its pure form a capitaspirit, is not in the workers. The divergence between these two tendencies in capitalism and in the clastruggle appears now as a rift between the trade union spirit, mainly embodied in their leaders, and tgrowing revolutionary feeling of the members. This rift becomes apparent in the opposite positions they ton various important social and political 2uestions.

Trade unionism is bound to capitalism it has its best chances to obtain good wages when capitalisflourishes. /o in times of depression it must hope that prosperity will be restored, and it must try to furtherTo the workers as a class, the prosperity of capitalism is not at all important. hen it is weakened by crisi

or depression, they have the best chance to attack it, to strengthen the forces of the revolution, and to take first steps towards freedom.

$apitalism extends its dominion over foreign continents, sei%ing their natural treasures in order to make profits. It con2uers colonies, sub ugates the primitive population and exploits them, often with horricruelties. The working class denounces colonial exploitation and opposes it, but trade unionism oftsupports colonial politics as a way to capitalist prosperity.

ith the enormous increases of capital in modern times, colonies and foreign countries are being used a places in which to invest large sums of capital. They become valuable possessions as markets for bindustry and as producers of raw materials. 1 race for getting colonies, a fierce conflict of interests over tdividing up of the world arises between the great capitalist states. In these politics of imperialism the midclasses are whirled along in a common exaltation of national greatness. Then the trade unions side with master class, because they consider the prosperity of their own national capitalism to be dependent on success in the imperialist struggle. 3or the working class, imperialism means increasing power and brutaof their exploiters.

These conflicts of interests between the national capitalisms explode into wars. orld war is the crowning othe policy of imperialism. 3or the workers, war is not only the destruction of all their feelings international brotherhood, it also means the most violent exploitation of their class for capitalist profit. Tworking class, as the most numerous and the most oppressed class of society, has to bear all the horrorswar. The workers have to give not only their labour power, but also their health and their lives.

Trade unions, however, in war must stand upon the side of the capitalist. Its interests are bound up wnational capitalism, the victory of which it must wish with all its heart. 5ence it assists in arousing stronational feelings and national hatred. It helps the capitalist class to drive the workers into war and to bdown all opposition.

Trade unionism abhors communism. $ommunism takes away the very basis of its existence. In communisin the absence of capitalist employers, there is no room for the trade union and labour leaders. It is true tin countries with a strong socialist movement, where the bulk of the workers are socialists, the labour leadmust be socialists too, by origin as well as by environment. But then they are right-wing socialists and th

socialism is restricted to the idea of a commonwealth where instead of greedy capitalists honest laboleaders will manage industrial production.

Trade unionism hates revolution. <evolution upsets all the ordinary relations between capitalists aworkers. In its violent clashings, all those careful tariff regulations are swept away in the strife of gigantic forces the modest skill of the bargaining labour leaders loses its value. ith all its power, tradunionism opposes the ideas of revolution and communism.

This opposition is not without significance. Trade unionism is a power in itself. It has considerable fundits disposal, as material element of power. It has its spiritual influence, upheld and propagated by periodical papers as mental element of power. It is a power in the hands of leaders, who make use of

wherever the special interests of trade unions come into conflict with the revolutionary interests of tworking class. Trade unionism, though built up by the workers and consisting of workers, has turned int power over and above the workers, ust as government is a power over and above the people.

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The forms of trade unionism are different for different countries, owing to the different forms development in capitalism. 'or do they always remain the same in every country. hen they seem to beslowly dying away, the fighting spirit of the workers is sometimes able to transform them, or to build up ntypes of unionism. Thus in England, in the years 0CC -> , the Jnew unionismJ sprang up from the masses poor dockers and the other badly paid, unskilled workers, bringing a new spirit into the old craft unions. Ia conse2uence of capitalist development, that in founding new industries and in replacing skilled labourmachine power, it accumulates large bodies of unskilled workers, living in the worst of conditions. 3orcedlast into a wave of rebellion, into big strikes, they find the way to unity and class consciousness. They mounionism into a new form, adapted to a more highly developed capitalism. #f course, when afterwar

capitalism grows to still mightier forms, the new unionism cannot escape the fate of all unionism, and the produces the same inner contradictions.

The most notable form sprang up in 1merica, in the JIndustrial orkers of the orld.J The I. . .originated from two forms of capitalist expansion. In the enormous forests and plains of the est, capitalisreaped the natural riches by ild est methods of fierce and brutal exploitation and the worker-adventurersresponded with as wild and ealous a defence. 1nd in the eastern states new industries were founded upthe exploitation of millions of poor immigrants, coming from countries with a low standard of living anow sub ected to sweatshop labour or other most miserable working conditions .

1gainst the narrow craft spirit of the old unionism, of the 1.3. of H., which divided the workers of onindustrial plant into a number of separate unions, the I. . . put the principle4 all workers of one factory, ascomrades against one master, must form one union, to act as a strong unity against the employer. 1gainst tmultitude of often ealous and bickering trade unions, the I. . . raised the slogan4 one big union for all theworkers. The fight of one group is the cause of all. /olidarity extends over the entire class. $ontrary to thhaughty disdain of the well-paid old 1merican skilled labour towards the unorganised immigrants, it wthese worst-paid proletarians that the I. . . led into the fight. They were too poor to pay high fees and build up ordinary trade unions. But when they broke out and revolted in big strikes, it was the I. . . whotaught them how to fight, who raised relief funds all over the country, and who defended their cause in papers and before the courts. By a glorious series of big battles it infused the spirit of organisation and sreliance into the hearts of these masses. $ontrary to the trust in the big funds of the old unions, the Industrorkers put their confidence in the living solidarity and the force of endurance, upheld by a burning

enthusiasm. Instead of the heavy stone-masoned buildings of the old unions, they represented the princiof flexible construction, with a fluctuating membership, contracting in time of peace, swelling and growin the fight itself. $ontrary to the conservative capitalist spirit of trade unionism, the Industrial orkers weranti-capitalist and stood for <evolution. Therefore they were persecuted with intense hatred by the whcapitalist world. They were thrown into ail and tortured on false accusations a new crime was evinvented on their behalf4 that of Jcriminal syndicalism.J

Industrial unionism alone as a method of fighting the capitalist class is not sufficient to overthrow capitasociety and to con2uer the world for the working class. It fights the capitalists as employers on the economfield of production, but it has not the means to overthrow their political stronghold, the state pow

'evertheless, the I. . . so far has been the most revolutionary organisation in 1merica. !ore than anyother it contributed to rouse class consciousness and insight, solidarity and unity in the working class, to tits eyes toward communism, and to prepare its fighting power.

The lesson of all these fights is that against big capitalism, trade unionism cannot win. 1nd if at timeswins, such victories give only temporary relief. 1nd yet, these fights are necessary and must be fought. the bitter end: -- no, to the better end.

The reason is obvious. 1n isolated group of workers might be e2ual to a fight against an isolated capitalemployer. But an isolated group of workers against an employer backed by the whole capitalist class powerless. 1nd such is the case here4 the state power, the money power of capitalism, public opinion of

middle class, excited by the capitalist press, all attack the group of fighting workers.But does the working class back the strikers: The millions of other workers do not consider this fight as thown cause. $ertainly they sympathise, and may often collect money for the strikers, and this may give so

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This does not mean, of course, that all great actions and universal strikes are carried out with soldierldiscipline, after the decisions of a central board. /uch cases will occur, it is true, but more often, througtheir eager fighting spirit, their solidarity and passion, masses will break out in strikes to help thcomrades, or to protest against some capitalist atrocity, with no general plan. Then such a strike will sprelike a prairie fire all over the country.

In the first <ussian revolution, the strike waves went up and down. #ften the most successful were those thhad not been decided in advance, while the strikes that had been proclaimed by the central committees offailed.

The strikers, once they are fighting, want mutual contact and understanding in order to unite in an organiforce. 5ere a difficulty presents itself. ithout strong organi%ation, without oining forces and binding thewill in one solid body, without uniting their action in one common deed, they cannot win against the stroorgani%ation of capitalist power. But when thousands and millions of workers are united in one body, can only be managed by functionaries acting as representatives of the members. 1nd we have seen that ththese officials become masters of the organi%ation, with interests different from the revolutionary interesthe workers.

5ow can the working class, in revolutionary fights, unite its force into a big organi%ation without falling the pit of officialdom: The answer is given by putting another 2uestion4 if all that the workers do is to ptheir fees and to obey when their leaders order them out and order them in, are they themselves then reafighting their fight for freedom:

3ighting for freedom is not letting your leaders think for you and decide, and following obediently behithem, or from time to time scolding them. 3ighting for freedom is partaking to the full of ones capacithinking and deciding for oneself, taking all the responsibilities as a self-relying individual amidst e2comrades. It is true that to think for oneself, to think out what is true and right, with a head dulled by fatigis the hardest, the most difficult task it is much harder than to pay and to obey. But it is the only wayfreedom. To be liberated by others, whose leadership is the essential part of the liberation, means the gettof new masters instead of the old ones.

3reedom, the goal of the workers, means that they shall be able, man for man, to manage the world, to uand deal with the treasures of the earth, so as to make it a happy home for all. 5ow can they ensure thisthey are not able to con2uer and defend this themselves:

The proletarian revolution is not simply the van2uishing of capitalist power. It is the rise of the whoworking people out of dependence and ignorance into independence and clear consciousness of how to mtheir life.

True organi%ation, as the workers need it in the revolution, implies that everyone takes part in it, body soul and brains that everyone takes part in leadership as well as in action, and has to think out, to decide a

to perform to the full of his capacities. /uch an organi%ation is a body of self-determining people. Therno place for professional leaders. $ertainly there is obeying everybody has to follow the decisions which himself has taken part in making. But the full power always rests with the workers themselves.

$an such a form of organi%ation be reali%ed: hat must be its structure: It is not necessary to construct it think it out. 5istory has already produced it. It sprang into life out of the practice of the class struggle. prototype, its first trace, is found in the strike committees. In a big strike, all the workers cannot assemblone meeting. They choose delegates to act as a committee. /uch a committee is only the executive organ the strikers it is continually in touch with them and has to carry out the decisions of the strikers. Eadelegate at every moment can be replaced by others such a committee never becomes an independe power. In such a way, common action as one body can be secured, and yet the workers have all decisions

their own hands. "sually in strikes, the uppermost lead is taken out of the hands of these committees by ttrade unions and their leaders.

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hen the revolution develops to such power that the /tate power is seriously affected, then the workers6councils have to assume political functions. In a political revolution, this is their first and chief functiThey are the central bodies of the workers6 power they have to take all measures to weaken and defeat adversary. Hike a power at war, they have to stand guard over the whole country, controlling the effortsthe capitalist class to collect and restore their forces and to subdue the workers. They have to look aftenumber of public affairs which otherwise were state affairs 4 public health, public security, and tuninterrupted course of social life. They have to take care of the production itself the most important adifficult task and concern of the working class in revolution.

1 social revolution in history never began as a simple charge of political rulers who then, after havinac2uired political power, carried out the necessary social changes by means of new laws. 1lready, befoand during the fight, the rising class built up its new social organs as new sprouting branches within the dhusk of the former organism. In the 3rench revolution, the new capitalist class, the citi%ens, the businmen, the artisans, built up in each town and village their communal boards, their new courts of ustice, illeat the time, usurping simply the functions of the powerless functionaries of royalty. hile their delegates i?aris discussed and made the new constitution, the actual constitution was made all over the country by citi%ens holding their political meetings, building up their political organs afterwards legali%ed by law.

In the same way during the proletarian revolution, the new rising class creates its new forms of organi%awhich step by step in the process of revolution supersede the old /tate organi%ation. The workers6 counas the new form of political organi%ation, take the place of parliamentarism, the political form of capitrule.

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?arliamentary democracy is considered by capitalist theorists as well as by social-democrats as the perfdemocracy, conform to ustice and e2uality. In reality, it is only a disguise for capitalist domination, acontrary to ustice and e2uality. It is the council system that is the true workers6 democracy.

?arliamentary democracy is foul democracy. The people are allowed to vote once in four or five years andchoose their delegates woe to them if they do not choose the right man. #nly at the polls the voters can extheir power thereafter they are powerless. The chosen delegates are now the rulers of the people they malaws and constitute governments, and the people have to obey. "sually, by the election mechanism, only th big capitalist parties with their powerful apparatus, with their papers, their noisy advertising, have a chato win. <eal trustees of discontented groups seldom have a chance to win some few seats.

In the soviet system, each delegate can be repealed at any moment. 'ot only do the workers continuallremain in touch with the delegate, discussing and deciding for themselves, but the delegate is onlytemporary messenger to the council assemblies. $apitalist politicians denounce this &characterless) rolethe delegate, in that he may have to speak against his personal opinion. They forget that ust because thare no fixed delegates, only those will be sent whose opinions conform to those of the workers.

The principle of parliamentary representation is that the delegate in parliament shall act and vote accordto his own conscience and conviction. If on some 2uestion he should ask the opinion of his voters, it is odue to his own prudence. 'ot the people, but he on his own responsibility has to decide. The principle of thsoviet system is ust the reverse the delegates only express the opinions of the workers.

In the elections for parliament, the citi%ens are grouped according to voting districts and counties that say according to their dwelling place. ?ersons of different trades or classes, having nothing in commoaccidentally living near one another, are combined into an artificial group which has to be represented one delegate.

In the councils, the workers are represented in their natural groups, according to factories, shops and planThe workers of one factory or one big plant form a unit of production they belong together by thecollective work. In revolutionary epochs, they are in immediate contact to interchange opinions they lunder the same conditions and have the same interests. They must act together the factory is the unit wh

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as a unit has to strike or to work, and its workers must decide what they collectively have to do. /o torgani%ation and delegation of workers in factories and workshops is the necessary form.

It is at the same time the principle of representation of the communist order growing up in the revoluti?roduction is the basis of society, or, more rightly, it is the contents, the essence of society hence the ordof production is at the same time the order of society. 3actories are the working units, the cells of which organism of society consists. The main task of the political organs, which mean nothing else but the orgamanaging the totality of society, concerns the productive work of society. 5ence it goes without saying ththe working people, in their councils, discuss these matters and choose their delegates, collected in th

production units.e should not believe, though, that parliamentarism, as the political form of capitalism, was not founded o

production. 1lways the political organi%ation is adapted to the character of production as the basis of soci<epresentation, according to dwelling place, belongs to the system of petty capitalist production, where eaman is supposed to be the possessor of his own small business. Then there is a mutual connection betweall these businessmen at one place, dealing with one another, living as neighbors, knowing one another atherefore sending one common delegate to parliament. This was the basis of parliamentarism. e have seethat later on this parliamentary delegation :system proved to be the right system for representing tgrowing and changing class interests within capitalism.

1t the same time it is clear now why the delegates in parliament had to take political power in their hanTheir political task was only a small part of the task of society. The most important part, the productiwork, was the personal task of all the separate producers, the citi%ens as business men it re2uired nearlytheir energy and care. hen every individual took care of his own small lot, then society as their totalitwent right. The general regulations by law, necessary conditions, doubtlessly, but of minor extent, couldleft to the care of a special group or trade, the politicians. ith communist production the reverse is true5ere the all important thing, the collective productive work, is the task of society as a whole it concerns the workers collectively. Their personal work does not claim their whole energy and care their mindturned to the collective task of society. The general regulation of this collective work cannot be left tspecial group of persons it is the vital interest of the whole working people.

There is another difference between parliamentarism and the soviet system. In parliamentary democracy, ovote is given to every adult man and sometimes woman on the strength of their supreme, inborn right belonging to mankind, as is so beautifully expressed in celebration speeches. In the soviets, on the othand, only the workers are represented. $an the council system then be said to be truly democratic ifexcludes the other classes of society:

The council system embodies the dictatorship of the proletariat. !arx and Engels, more than half a centuago, explained that the social revolution was to lead to the dictatorship of the working class as the ne political form and that this was essential in order to bring about the necessary changes in society. /ocialisthinking in terms of parliamentary representation only, tried to excuse or to critici%e the violation

democracy and the in ustice of arbitrarily excluding persons from the polls because they belong to certaclasses. 'ow we see how the development of the proletarian class struggle in a natural way produces thorgans of this dictatorship, the soviets.

It is certainly no violation of ustice that the councils, as the fighting centers of a revolutionary workiclass, do not include representatives of the opposing class. 1nd thereafter the matter is not different. Inrising communist society there is no place for capitalists they have to disappear and they will disappehoever takes part in the collective work is a member of the collectivity and takes part in the decisions?ersons, however, who stand outside the process of collective production, are, by the structure of the counsystem, automatically excluded from influence upon it. hatever remains of the former exploiters anrobbers has no vote in the regulation of a production in which they take no part.

There are other classes in society that do not directly belong to the two chief opposite classes 4 small farmindependent artisans, intellectuals. In the revolutionary fight they may waver to and fro, but on the whthey are not very important, because they have less fighting power. !ostly their forms of organi%ation a

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their aims are different. To make friends with them or to neutrali%e them, if this is possible without impethe proper aims or to fight them resolutely if necessary, to decide upon the way of dealing with them we2uity and firmness, will be the concern, often a matter of difficult tactics, of the fighting working classthe production-system, insofar as their work is useful and necessary, they will find their place and they wexert their influence after the principle that whoever does the work has a chief vote in regulating the work

!ore than half a century ago, Engels said that through the proletarian revolution the /tate would disappeainstead of the ruling over men would come the managing of affairs. This was said at a time when there conot be any clear idea about how the working class would come into power. 'ow we see the truth of thi

statement confirmed. In the process of revolution, the old /tate ?ower will be destroyed, and the organs thtake its place, the workers6 councils, for the time being, will certainly have important political functions to repress the remnants of capitalist power. Their political function of governing, however, will be graduaturned into nothing but the economic function of managing the collective process of production of goodsthe needs of society.

J.H.

ote

0. This article was first published in English in the 1merican ournalInte!national )o&ncil )o!!es ondence *Kol. II 'o. @ 1pril 0>9D+. *?annekoek wrote a book with this title some years later which you can find at that link+. The textwas published over the intials A.5 *Aohn 5arper+, a pen name ?annekoek often used and the translation may have by ?annekoek himself. There are a couple of obvious errors in the published text which we have not attemptedcorrect. The article is in two parts ( it would be interesting to know if it was originally two short texts which were th oined together. * Note b$ ?ndpage7com +

State )a italism and Dictato!s#i 819*

I'The term &/tate $apitalism) is fre2uently used in two different ways4 first, as an economic form in whichstate performs the role of the capitalist employer, exploiting the workers in the interest of the state. Tfederal mail system or a state-owned railway are examples of this kind of state capitalism. In <ussia, tform of state capitalism predominates in industry 4 the work is planned, financed and managed by the stthe directors of industry are appointed by the state and profits are considered the income of the state. /econwe find that a condition is defined as state capitalism *or state socialism+ under which capitalist enterprare controlled by the state. This definition is misleading, however, as there still exists under these conditicapitalism in the form of private ownership, although the owner of an enterprise is no longer the sole mashis power being restricted so long as some sort of social insurance system for the workers is accepted.

It depends now on the degree of state interference in private enterprises. If the state passes certain lawaffecting employment conditions, such as the hiring and firing of workers, if enterprises are being financ by a federal banking system, or subventions are being granted to support the export trade, or if by law limit of dividends for the large corporations is fixed ( then a condition will be reached under which stcontrol will regulate the entire economic life. This will vary from the strict state capitalism in certadegrees. $onsidering the present economic situation in Germany we could consider a sort of state capitali prevailing there. The rulers of big industry in Germany are not subordinated sub ects of the state but are ruling power in Germany thru the fascist officials in the governing offices. The 'ational /ocialist ?arty

developed as a tool of these rulers. In <ussia, on the other hand, the bourgeoisie was destroyed by th#ctober <evolution and has disappeared completely as a ruling power. The bureaucracy of the <ussiagovernment took control of the growing industry. <ussian state capitalism could be developed as there wno powerful bourgeoisie in existence. In Germany, as in western Europe and in 1merica, the bourgeoisie

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in complete power, the owner of capital and the means of production. This is essential for the charactercapitalism. The decisive factor is the character of that class which are the owners in full control of capand not the inner form of administration nor the degree of state interference in the economic life of t population. /hould this class consider it a necessity to bind itself by stricter regulation ( a step that woualso make the smaller private capitalists more dependent upon the will of the big capitalists ( the character private capitalism would still remain. e must therefore distinguish the difference between state capitalismand such private capitalism that may be regulated to the highest degree by the state.

/trict regulations are not simply to be looked upon as an attempt to find a way out of the crisis. ?olitic

considerations also play a part. Examples of state regulation point to one general aim 4 preparation for wThe war industry is regulated, as well as the farmersO production of food ( in order to be prepared for wImpoverished by the results of the last war ( robbed of provinces, raw materials, colonies, capital, tGerman bourgeoisie must try to rehabilitate its remaining forces by rigorous concentration. 3oreseeing was a last resort, it puts as much of its resources as is necessary into the hands of state control. hen facewith the common aim for new world power, the private interests of the various sections of the bourgeoiare put into the background. 1ll the capitalist powers are confronted with this 2uestion 4 to what extent state, as the representative of the common interests of the national bourgeoisie, should be entrusted w powers over persons, finances and industry in the international struggle for power : This explains whythose nations of a poor but rapidly increasing population, without any or with but few colonies *such as ItGermany, Aapan+ the state has assumed the greatest power.

#ne can raise the 2uestion 4 is not state capitalism the only &way out) for the bourgeoisie : #bviously stacapitalism would be feasible, if only the whole productive process could be managed and planned centrafrom above in order to meet the needs of the population and eliminate crises. If such conditions were brouabout, the bourgeoisie would then cease being a real bourgeoisie. In bourgeois society, not only exploitatiof the working class exists but there must also exist the constant struggle of the various sections of tcapitalist class for markets and for sources of capital investment. This struggle among the capitalists is 2udifferent from the old free competition on the market. "nder cover of cooperation of capital within thnation there exists a continuous struggle between huge monopolies. $apitalists cannot act as mere dividecollectors, leaving initiative to state officials to attend to the exploitation of the working class. $apitalistruggle among themselves for profits and for the control of the state in order to protect their sectioninterests and their field of action extends beyond the limits of the state. 1lthough during the present crisistrong concentration took place within each capitalist nation, there still remains powerful internatiointerlacements, *of big capital+. In the form of the struggle between nations, the struggle of capitalcontinues, whereby a severe political crisis in war and defeat has the effect of an economic crisis.

hen, therefore, the 2uestion arises whether or not state capitalism ( in the sense in which it has been useabove ( is a necessary intermediate stage before the proletariat sei%es power, whether it would be the highand last form of capitalism established by the bourgeoisie, the answer is 'o. #n the other hand, if by statcapitalism one means the strict control and regulation of private capital by the state, the answer is Fes, tdegree of state control varying within a country according to time and conditions, the preservation a

increase of profits brought about in different ways, depending upon the historical and political conditiand the relationship of the classes.

II'The goal of the working class is liberation from exploitation. This goal is not reached and cannot be reach by a new directing and governing class substituting the bourgeoisie. It can only be realised by the workthemselves being master over production.

'evertheless it is possible and 2uite probable that state capitalism will be an intermediary stage, until th

proletariat succeeds in establishing communism. This, however, could not happen for economic but political reasons. /tate capitalism would not be the result of economic crises but of the class struggle. In tfinal stage of capitalism, the class struggle is the most significant force that determines the actions of bourgeoisie and shapes state economy.

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It is to be expected that, as a result of great economic tension and conflict, the class struggle of the futu proletariat will flare up into mass action whether this mass action be the came of wage conflicts warseconomic crises, whether the shape it takes be that of mass strikes, street riots or armed struggle t proletariat will establish council organi%ations ( organs of self-determination and uniform executionaction. This will particularly be the case in Germany. There the old political organs of the class struggle h been destroyed workers stand side by side as individuals with no other allegiance but to that of their cla/hould far-reaching political movements develop in Germany, the workers could function only as a clasfight only as a class when they oppose the capitalist principle of one-man dictatorship with the proletar principle of self-determination of the masses. In other parliamentary countries, on the other hand, t

workers are severely handicapped in their development of independent class action by the activities of political parties. These parties promise the working class safer fighting methods, force upon the worktheir leadership and make the ma ority of the population their unthinking followers, with the aid of th propaganda machinery. In Germany these handicaps are a dying tradition.

/uch primary mass struggles are only the beginning of a period of revolutionary development. Het us assua situation favorable to the proletariat that proletarian action is so powerful as to paraly%e and overthrow bourgeois state. In spite of unanimous action in this respect, the degree of maturity of the masses may va1 clear conception of aims, ways and means will be ac2uired only during the process of revolution and afthe first victory differences as to further tactics will assert themselves. /ocialist or communist partspokesmen appear they are not dead, at least their ideas are alive among the &moderate) section of workers. 'ow their time has come to put into practice their program of &state socialism.)

The most progressive workers whose aim must be to put the leadership of the struggle into the control of working class by means of the council organi%ation, *thereby weakening the enemy power of the state fowill be encountered by &socialist) propaganda in which will be stressed the necessity of speedily buildingsocialist order by means of a &socialistic) government. There will be warnings against extreme demanappeals to the timidity of those individuals to whom the thought of proletarian communism is yinconceivable, compromises with bourgeois reformists will be advised, as well as the buying-out of t bourgeoisie rather than forcing it thru expropriation to embittered resistance. 1ttempts will be made to ho back the workers from revolutionary aims ( from the determined class struggle. 1round this type o propaganda will rally those who feel called upon to be at the head of the party or to assume leadershamong the workers. 1mong these leaders will be a great portion of the intelligentsia who easily adathemselves to &state socialism) but not to council communism and other sections of the bourgeoisie whoin the workersO struggles a new class position from which they can successfully combat communi&/ocialism against anarchy,) such will be the battle cry of those who will want to save of capitalism wthere can be saved.

The outcome of this struggle depends on the maturity of the revolutionary working class. Those who n believe that all one has to do is to wait for revolutionary action, because then economic necessity will tethe workers how to act correctly, are victims of an illusion. $ertainly workers will learn 2uickly and aforcefully in revolutionary times. !eanwhile heavy defeats are likely to be experienced, resulting in the lo

of countless victims. The more thorough the work of enlightenment of the proletariat, the more firm willthe attack of the masses against the attempt of &leaders) to direct their actions into the channels of stsocialism. $onsidering the difficulties with which the task of enlightenment now encounters, it seemimprobable that there lies open for the workers a road to freedom without setbacks. In this situation are tofound the possibilities for state capitalism as an intermediary stage before the coming of communism.

Thus the capitalist class will not adopt state capitalism became of its own economic difficulties. !onopocapitalism, particularly when using the state as a fascist dictatorship, can secure for itself most of tadvantages of a single organi%ation without giving up its own rule over production. There will be a diffesituation, however, when it feels itself so far pressed by the working class that the old form of privacapitalism can no longer be saved. Then state capitalism will be the way out4 the preservation of exploita

in the form of a &socialistic) society, where the &most capable leaders,) the &best brains,) and the &greaof action) will direct production and the masses will work obediently under their command. hether or nothis condition is called state capitalism or state socialism makes no difference in principle. hether onrefers to the first term &/tate capitalism) as being a ruling and exploiting state bureaucracy or to the seco

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term &/tate socialism) as a necessary staff of officials who as dutiful and obedient servants of thcommunity share the work with the laborers, the difference in the final analysis lies in the amount of tsalaries and the 2ualitative measure of influence in the party connections.

/uch a form of society cannot be stable, it is a form of retrogression, against which the working class wagain rise. "nder it a certain amount of order can be brought about but production remains restricted. /ocidevelopment remains hindered. <ussia was able, through this form of organi%ation, to change from se barbarism to a developed capitalism, to surpass even the achievements of the estern countriesO privacapitalism. In this process figures the enthusiasm apparent among the &upstart) bourgeois classes, where

capitalism begins its course. But such state capitalism cannot progress. In estern Europe and in 1mericthe same form of economic organi%ation would not be progressive, since it would hinder the comingcommunism. It would obstruct the necessary revolution in production that is, it would be reactionarycharacter and assume the political form of a dictatorship.

III'/ome !arxists maintain that !arx and Engels foresaw this development of society to state capitalism. Butwe know of no statement by !arx concerning state capitalism from which we could deduce that he lookeupon the state when it assumes the role of sole capitalist, as being the last phase of capitalist society. 5e sa

in the state the organ of suppression, which bourgeois society uses against the working class. 3or Eng&The ?roletariat sei%es the power of the state and then changes the ownership of the means of productiostate ownership.)

This means that the change of ownership to state ownership did not occur previously. 1ny attempt to mathis sentence of EngelsO responsible for the theory of state capitalism, brings Engels into contradiction himself. 1lso, there is no confirmation of it to be found in actual occurrences. The railroads in highdeveloped capitalist countries, like England and 1merica, are still in the private possession of capitaliscorporations. #nly the postal and telegraphic services are owned by the states in most countries, but for othreasons than their high state of development. The German railroads were owned by the state mostly fmilitary reasons. The only state capitalism which was enabled to transfer the means of production to stownership is the <ussian, but not on account of their state of high development, rather on account of thlow degree of development. There is nothing, however, to be found in Engels which could be appliedconditions as they exist in Germany and Italy today, these are strong supervision regulation, and limitatof liberty of private capitalism by an all-powerful state.

This is 2uite natural, as Engels was no prophet he was only a scientist who was well aware of the processsocial development. hat he expounds are the fundamental tendencies in this development and theisignificance. Theories of development are best expressed when spoken of in connection with the future itherefore not harmful to use caution in expressing them. Hess cautious expression, as is often the case wEngels, does not diminish the value of the prognostications in the least, although occurrences do not exaccorrespond to predictions. 1 man of his calibre has a right to expect that even his suppositions be treatwith care, although they were arrived at under certain definite conditions. The work of deducing ttendencies of capitalism and their development, and shaping them into consistent and comprehensitheories assures to !arx and Engels a prominent position among the most outstanding thinkers and scientisof the nineteenth century, but the exact description of the social structure of half a century in advance in its details was an impossibility even for them.

ictatorships, as those in Italy and Germany, became necessary as means of coercion to force upon thunwilling mass of small capitalists the new order and the regulating limitations. 3or this reason sudictatorship is often looked upon as the future political form of society of a developed capitalism the woover.

uring forty years the socialist press pointed out that military monarchy was the political form of socie belonging to a concentrated capitalistic society. 3or the bourgeois is in need of a 8aiser, the Aunkers and army in defense against a revolutionary working class on one side and the neighboring countries on the ot

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side. 3or ten years the belief prevailed that the republic was the true form of government for a developcapitalism, because under this form of state the bourgeoisie were the masters. 'ow the dictatorship iconsidered to be the needed form of government. hatever the form may be, the most fitting reasons for are always found. hile at the same time countries like England, 3rance, 1merica and Belgium with ahighly concentrated and developed capitalism, retain the same form of parliamentary government, beunder a republic or kingdom. This proves that capitalism chooses many roads leading to the samdestination, and it also proves that there should be no haste in drawing conclusions from the experiencesone country to apply to the world at large.

In every country great capital accomplishes its rule by means of the existing political institutions, developthru history and traditions, whose functions are then being changed expressly. England offers an instanThere the parliamentary system in con unction with a high measure of personal liberty and autonomy aresuccessful that there is no trace whatever of socialism, communism or revolutionary thought among tworking classes. There also monopolistic capitalism grew and developed. There, too, capitalism dominathe government. There, too, the government takes measures to overcome the results of the depression, they manage to succeed without the aid of a dictatorship. This does not make England a democracy, becaalready a half a century ago two aristocratic cli2ues of politicians held the government alternately, and same conditions prevail today. But they are ruling by different means in the long run these means may more effective than the brutal dictatorship. $ompared with Germany, the even and forceful rule of Englicapitalism looks to be the more normal one. In Germany the pressure of a police-government forced workers into radical movements, subse2uently the workers obtained external political power, not thru efforts of a great inner force within themselves, but thru the military debacle of their rulers, and eventuathey saw that power destroyed by a sharp dictatorship, the result of a petty bourgeois revolution which wfinanced by monopolistic capital. This should not be interpreted to mean that the English form government is really the normal one, and the German the abnormal one ust as it would be wrong to assuthe reverse. Each case must be udged separately, each country has the kind of government which grew oof its own course of political development.

#bserving 1merica, we find in this land of greatest concentration of monopolistic capital as little desire change to a dictatorship as we find in England. "nder the <oosevelt administration certain regulations anactions were effected in order to relieve the results of the depression, some were complete innovatio1mong these there was also the beginning of a social policy, which was hitherto entirely absent fro1merican politics. But private capital is already rebelling and is already feeling strong enough to pursue own course in the political struggle for power. /een from 1merica, the dictatorships in several Europeacountries appear like a heavy armour, destructive of liberty, which the closely pressed-in nations of Euromust bear, because inherited feuds whip them on to mutual destruction, but not as what they really a purposeful forms of organi%ation of a most highly developed capitalism.

The arguments for a new labor movement, which we designate with the name of $ouncil-$ommunism, dnot find their basis in state capitalism and fascist dictatorship. This movement represents a vital need of working classes and is bound to develop everywhere. It becomes a necessity because of the colossal rise

the power of capital, because against a power of this magnitude the old forms of labor movement beco powerless, therefore labor must find new means of combat. 3or this reason any program principles for new labor movement can be based on neither state capitalism, fascism, nor dictatorship as their causes, bonly the constantly growing power of capital and the impotence of the old labor movement to cope with t power.

3or the working classes in fascist countries both conditions prevail, for there the risen power of capital is power holding the political as well as the economic dictatorship of the country. hen there the propagandfor new forms of action connects with the existence of the dictatorship, it is as it should be. But it wouldfolly to base an international program on such principles forgetting that conditions in other countries difwidely from those in fascist countries.

Anton Pannekoek 19*

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Pa!t$ and 5o!king )lasse are only at the very earliest stages of a new workersO movement. The old movement was embodied

parties, and today belief in the party constitutes the most powerful check on the working classO capacityaction. That is why we are not trying to create a new party. This is so, not because our numbers are small party of any kind begins with a few people -- but because, in our day, a party cannot be other than organi%ation aimed at directing and dominating the proletariat. To this type of organi%ation we oppos principle that the working class can effectively come into its own and prevail only by taking its destiny iits own hands. The workers are not to adopt the slogans of any group whatsoever, not even our own grouthey are to think, decide and act for themselves. Therefore, in this transitional period, the natural organseducation and enlightenment are, in our view, work groups, study and discussion circles, which have formof their own accord and are seeking their own way.

This view directly contradicts the traditional ideas about the role of the party as an essential educatioorgan of the proletariat. 5ence it is resisted in many 2uarters where, however, there is no further desire have dealings either with the /ocialist ?arty or the $ommunist ?arty. This, no doubt, is to be partlyexplained by the strength of tradition4 when one has always regarded the class war as a party war and a w between parties, it is very difficult to adopt the exclusive viewpoint of class and of the class war. But partoo, one is faced with the clear idea that, after all, it is incumbent on the party to play a role of the fi

importance in the proletarian struggle for freedom. It is this idea we shall now examine more closely.The whole 2uestion pivots, in short, on the following distinction4 a party is a group based on certain idheld in common, whereas a class is a group united on the basis of common interests. !embership in a clasis determined by function in the production process, a function that creates definite interests. !embership a party means being one of a group having identical views about the ma or social 2uestions.

In recent times, it was supposed for theoretical and practical reasons that this fundamental difference wodisappear within a class party, the OworkersO party.O uring the period when /ocial emocracy was in growth, the current impression was that this party would gradually unite all the workers, some as militanothers as sympathi%ers. 1nd since the theory was that identical interests would necessarily engendidentical ideas and aims, the distinction between class and party was bound, it was believed, to disappe/ocial emocracy remained a minority group, and moreover became the target of attack by new workersgroups. /plits occurred within it, while its own character underwent radical change and certain articles of program were either revised or interpreted in a totally different sense. /ociety does not develop in continuous way, free from setbacks, but through conflicts and antagonisms. hile the working class battle widening in scope, the enemyOs strength is increasing. "ncertainty about the way to be followed constanand repeatedly troubles the minds of the combatants and doubt is a factor in division, of internal 2uarrand conflicts within the workersO movement.

It is useless to deplore these conflicts as creating a pernicious situation that should not exist and whichmaking the workers powerless. 1s has often been pointed out, the working class is not weak because itdivided on the contrary, it is divided because it is weak. 1nd the reason why the proletariat ought to senew ways is that the enemy has strength of such a kind that the old methods are ineffectual. The workclass will not secure these ways by magic, but through a great effort, deep reflection, through the clashdivergent opinions and the conflict of impassioned ideas. It is incumbent upon it to find its own way, a precisely therein is the raison dOYtre of the internal differences and conflicts. It is forced to renooutmoded ideas and old chimeras, and it is indeed the difficulty of this task that engenders such bdivisions.

'or should the illusion be nursed that such impassioned party conflicts and opinion clashes belong only totransitional period such as the present one, and that they will in due course disappear, leaving a unstronger than ever. $ertainly, in the evolution of the class struggle, it sometimes happens that all the varioelements of strength are merged in order to snatch some great victory, and that revolution is the fruit of tunity. But in this case, as after every victory, divergences appear immediately when it comes to deciding new ob ectives. The proletariat then finds itself faced with the most arduous tasks4 to crush the enemy,

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more, to organi%e production, to create a new order. It is out of the 2uestion that all the workers, categories and all groups, whose interests are still far from being homogeneous, should think and feel in same way, and should reach spontaneous and immediate agreement about what should be done next. It precisely because they are committed to finding for themselves their own way ahead that the livelidifferences occur, that there are clashes among them, and that finally, through such conflict, they succeedclarifying their ideas.

'o doubt, if certain people holding the same ideas get together to discuss the prospects for action, to hammout ideas by discussion, to indulge in propaganda for these attitudes, then it is possible to describe su

groups as parties. The name matters little, provided that these parties adopt a role distinct from that whexisting parties seek to fulfil. ?ractical action, that is, concrete class struggle, is a matter for the massthemselves, acting as a whole, within their natural groups, notably the work gangs, which constitute the unof effective combat. It would be wrong to find the militants of one tendency going on strike, while thoseanother tendency continued to work. In that case, the militants of each tendency should present thviewpoints to the factory floor, so that the workers as a whole are able to reach a decision based oknowledge and facts. /ince the war is immense and the enemyOs strength enormous, victory must be attai by merging all the forces at the massesO disposal -- not only material and moral force with a view to acunity and enthusiasm, but also the spiritual force born of mental clarity. The importance of these partiesgroups resides in the fact that they help to secure this mental clarity through their mutual conflicts, thdiscussions, their propaganda. It is by means of these organs of self-clarification that the working class csucceed in tracing for itself the road to freedom.

That is why parties in this sense *and also their ideas+ do not need firm and fixed structures. 3aced with change of situation, with new tasks, people become divided in their views, but only to reunite in neagreement while others come up with other programs. Given their fluctuating 2uality, they are always reato adapt themselves to the new.

The present workersO parties are of an absolutely different character. Besides, they have a different ob ecto sei%e power and to exercise it for their sole benefit. 3ar from attempting to contribute to the emancipaof the working class, they mean to govern for themselves, and they cover this intention under the pretencefreeing the proletariat. /ocial emocracy, whose ascendant period goes back to the great parliamentaryepoch, sees this power as government based on a parliamentary ma ority. 3or its part, the $ommunist ?arcarries its power politics to its extreme conse2uences4 party dictatorship.

"nlike the parties described above, these parties are bound to have formations with rigid structures, whocohesion is assured by means of statutes, disciplinary measures, admission and dismissal proceduresigned to dominate, they fight for power by orienting the militants toward the instruments of power ththey possess and by striving constantly to increase their sphere of influence. They do not see their taskthat of educating the workers to think for themselves on the contrary, they aim at drilling them, at turnthem into faithful and devoted adherents of their doctrines. hile the working class needs unlimited freedomof spiritual development to increase its strength and to con2uer, the basis of party power is the repression

all opinions that do not conform to the party line. In OdemocraticO parties, this result is secured by methat pay lip service to freedom in the dictatorial parties, by brutal and avowed repression.

1 number of workers are already aware that domination by the /ocialist ?arty or the $ommunist ?artywould simply be a camouflaged supremacy of the bourgeois class, and would thus perpetuate exploitatand servitude. But, according to these workers, what should take its place is a Orevolutionary partyOwould really aim at creating proletarian power and communist society. There is no 2uestion here of a pain the sense we defined above, i.e., of a group whose sole ob ective is to educate and enlighten, but of a pain the current sense, i.e., a party fighting to secure power and to exercise it with a view to the liberationthe working class, and all this as a vanguard, as an organi%ation of the enlightened revolutionary minority

The very expression Orevolutionary partyO is a contradiction in terms, for a party of this kind could nrevolutionary. If it were, it could only be so in the sense in which we describe revolutionary as a changegovernment resulting from somewhat violent pressures, e.g., the birth of the Third <eich. hen we use thword Orevolution,O we clearly mean the proletarian revolution, the con2uest of power by the working cla

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Therefore, those who contemplate a Orevolutionary partyO are learning only a part of the lessons of the 'ot unaware that the workersO parties -- the /ocialist ?arty and $ommunist ?arty -- have become organs odomination serving to perpetuate exploitation, they merely conclude from this that it is only necessaryimprove the situation. This is to ignore the fact that the failure of the different parties is traceable to a mmore general cause -- namely, the basic contradiction between the emancipation of the class, as a body a by their own efforts, and the reduction of the activity of the masses to powerlessness by a new pro-work power. 3aced with the passivity and indifference of the masses, they come to regard themselves asrevolutionary vanguard. But, if the masses remain inactive, it is because, while instinctively sensing both colossal power of the enemy and the sheer magnitude of the task to be undertaken, they have not y

discerned the mode of combat, the way of class unity. 5owever, when circumstances have pushed them inaction, they must undertake this task by organi%ing themselves autonomously, by taking into their own hthe means of production, and by initiating the attack against the economic power of capital. 1nd once agaevery self-styled vanguard seeking to direct and to dominate the masses by means of a Orevolutionary pwill stand revealed as a reactionary factor by reason of this very conception.

Anton Pannekoek 19*7

Societ$ and ind in a!"ian P#iloso #$

I!arx6s theory of social development is known as the &materialistic conception of history) or &historimaterialism.) Before !arx the word &materialism) had long been used in opposition to idealism, fowhereas idealistic philosophical systems assumed some spiritual principle, some &1bsolute Idea) as t primary basis of the world, the materialistic philosophies proceeded from the real material world. In middle of the nineteenth century, another kind of materialism was current which considered physical matas the primary basis from which all spiritual and mental phenomena must be derived. !ost of the ob ectionthat have been raised against !arxism are due to the fact that it has not been sufficiently distinguished fro

this mechanical materialism.?hilosophy is condensed in the well-known 2uotation &it is not the consciousness of men that determitheir existence, but, on the contrary, their social existence determines their consciousness.) !arxism is noconcerned with the antithesis matter-mind it deals with the real world and the ideas derived therefrom. Treal world comprises everything observable ( that is, all that by observation may be declared an ob ectifact. The wage-relations between workman and employer, the constitution of the "nited /tates, the sciencof mathematics, although not consisting of physical matter, are 2uite as real and ob ective as the factomachine, the $apitol or the #hio <iver. Even ideas themselves in their turn act as real, observable fact!echanical materialism assumes that our thoughts are determined by the motions of atoms in the cells of o brains. !arxism considers our thoughts to be determined by our social experience observed through thsenses or felt as direct bodily needs.

The world for man is society. #f course, the wider world is nature, and society is nature transformed by mBut in the course of history this transformation was so thorough that now society is the most important pof our world. /ociety is not simply an aggregate of men men are connected by definite relations not chos by them at will, but imposed upon them by the economic system under which they live and in which eahas his place.

The relations which the productive system establishes between men have the same stringency as biologifacts but this does not mean that men think only of their food. It means that the manner in which man eahis living ( that is, the economic organi%ation of production ( places every individual in determinarelations with his fellow-men thus determining his thinking and feeling. It is true, of course, that even upthe present nearly all the thoughts of men have been orientated around the getting of food, becauselivelihood has never been assured for everybody. The fear of want and hunger has weighed like a nightm

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on the minds of men. But, in a socialist system, when this fear will have been removed, when mankind w be master of the means of subsistence, and thinking will be free and creative, the system of production walso continue to determine ideas and institutions.

The mode of production * <roduktions,eise +, which forms the mind of man, is, at the same time, a product ofman. It has been built up by mankind during the course of centuries, everyone participating in development. 1t any given moment, its structure is determined by given conditions, the most importantwhich are technics and law. !odern capitalism is not simply production by large scale machinery it i production by such machines under the rule of private property. The growth of capitalism was not only

change from an economy utili%ing small tools to large scale industry, but at the same time, a developmenthe guild-bound craftsmen into wage laborers and businessmen. 1 system of production is a determinasystem of technics regulated for the benefit of the owners by a system of uridical rules.

The oft-2uoted thesis of the German urist, /tammler, that law determines the economic system *&das 9echtbestimmt die Wirtschaft J+, is based upon this circumstance. /tammler thought that by this sentence he harefuted !arxism, which proclaimed the dominance of economics over uridical ideas. By proclaiming ththe material element, the technical side of the labor process, is ruled and dominated by ideological elemethe uridical rules by which men regulate their relations at their own will, /tammler felt convinced that had established the predominance of mind over matter. But the antithesis technics-law does not coincideall with the antithesis matter-mind. Haw is not only spiritual rule but also hard constraint, not only an arton the statute books, but also the club of the policeman and the walls. of the ail. 1nd technics is not only tmaterial machines but also the power to construct them, including the science of physics.

The two conditions, technics and law, play different roles in determining the system of production.. The wof those who control technics cannot by itself create these technics, but it can, and does, make the laws. Thare voluntary, but not capricious. They do not determine productive relations, but take advantage of threlations for the benefit of the owners and they are altered to meet advances in the modes of productio!anufacture using the technics of small tools led to a system of craft production, thus making the uridicainstitution of private property necessary. The development of big industry made the growth of large scmachinery possible and necessary, and induced people to remove the uridical obstacles to its developmeand to establish laisse%-faire trade legislation. In this way technics determines law it is the underlying fowhereas law belongs to the superstructure resting on it. Thus /tammler, while correct in his thesis inrestricted sense, is wrong in the general sense. Aust because law rules economics, people seek to make slaws as are re2uired by a given productive e2uipment in this way technics determines law. There is no rigmechanical, one-to-one dependence. Haw does not automatically ad ust itself to every new change technics. The economic need must be felt and then man must change and ad ust his laws accordingly. Tachieve this ad ustment is the difficult and painful purpose of social struggles. It is the 2uintessence and aof all political strife and of all great revolutions in history. The fight for new uridical principles is necessto form a new system of production adapted to the enormous modern development of technics.

Technics as the productive force is the basis of society. In primitive society, the natural conditions play t

chief role in determining the system of production. In the course of history technical implements agradually improved by almost imperceptible steps. 'atural science, by investigating the forces of naturdevelops into the important productive force. 1ll the technicalities in developing and applying sciencincluding the most abstract mathematics, which is to all appearances an exercise in pure reason, mtherefore be reckoned as belonging to the technical basis of the system of production, to what !arx callethe &productive forces.) In this way material *in a physical sense+ and mental elements are combined in !arxists call the material basis of society.

The !arxian conception of history puts living man in the center of its scheme of development, with all hneeds and all his powers, both physical and mental. 5is needs are not only the needs of his stomach *thouthese are the most imperative+, but also the needs of head and heart. In human labor, the material, phys

side and the mental side are inseparable even the most primitive work of the savage is brain work as muas muscle work. #nly because under capitalism the division of labor separated these two parts into functioof different classes, thereby maiming the capacities of both, did intellectuals come to overlook their orga

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and social unity. In this way, we may understand their erroneous view of !arxism as a theory dealinexclusively with the material side of life.

II!arx6s historical materialism is a method of interpretation of history. 5istory consists of the deeds, thactions of men. hat induces these actions: hat determines the activity of man:

!an, as an organism with certain needs which must be satisfied as conditional to his existence, stands witha surrounding nature, which offers the means to satisfy them. 5is needs and the impressions of thsurrounding world are the impulses, the stimuli to which his actions are the responses, ust as with all liv beings. In the case of man, consciousness is interposed between stimulus and action. The need as itdirectly felt, and the surrounding world as observed through the senses, work upon the mind, produthoughts, ideas and aims, stimulate the will and put the body in action.

The thoughts and aims of an active man are considered by him as the cause of his deeds he does not awhere these thoughts come from. This is especially true because thoughts, ideas and aims are not as a ruderived from the impressions by conscious reasoning, but are the product of subconscious spontaneo processes in our minds. 3or the members of a social class, life6s daily experiences condition, and the ne

of the class mold, the mind into a definite line of feeling and thinking, to produce definite ideas about wis useful and what is good or bad. The conditions of a class are life necessities to its members, and thconsider what is good or bad for them to be good or bad in general. hen conditions are ripe men go intaction and shape society according to their ideas. The rising 3rench bourgeoisie in the eighteenth centufeeling the necessity of laisse%-faire laws, of personal freedom for the citi%ens, proclaimed freedomslogan, and in the 3rench <evolution con2uered power and transformed society.

The idealistic conception of history explains the events of history, as caused by the ideas of men. Thiswrong, in that it confuses the abstract formula with a special concrete meaning, overlooking the fact that,example, the 3rench bourgeoisie wanted only that freedom that was good for itself. !oreover, it omits threal problem, the origin of these ideas. The materialistic conception of history explains these ideas as cau by the social needs arising from the conditions of the existing system of production. 1ccording to this viethe events of history are determined by forces arising out of the existing economic system. The historimaterialist6s interpretation of the 3rench <evolution in terms of a rising capitalism which re2uired a modstate with legislation adapted to its needs does not contradict the conception that the <evolution was brouabout by the desire of the citi%en for freedom from restraint it merely goes further to the root of the prob3or historical materialism contends that rising capitalism produced in the bourgeoisie the conviction theconomic and political freedom was necessary, and thus awakened the passion and enthusiasm that enablthe bourgeoisie to con2uer political power and to transform the state.

In this way !arx established causality in the development of human society. It is not a causality outside oman, for history is at the same time the product of human action. !an is a link in the chain of cause aneffect necessity in social development is a necessity achieved by means of human action. The materworld acts upon man, determines his consciousness, his ideas, his will, his actions, and so he reacts upon world and changes it. To the traditional middle-class mode of thinking this is a contradiction ( the sourceendless misrepresentations of !arxism. Either the actions of man determine history, they say, and then theris no necessary causality because man is free or if, as !arxism contends, there is causal necessity it caonly work as a fatality to which man has to submit without being able to change. 3or the materialistic moof thinking, on the contrary, the human mind is bound by a strict causal dependence to the whole of tsurrounding world.

The thoughts, the theories, the ideas, that former systems of society have thus wrought in the human mi

have been preserved for posterity, first in material form in subse2uent historical activity. But they have a been preserved in a spiritual form. The ideas, sentiments, passions and ideals that incited former generatito action were laid down in literature, in science, in art, in religion and in philosophy. e come into direccontact with them in the study of the humanities. These sciences belong to the most important fields

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research for !arxian scholars the differences between the philosophies, the literatures, the religions odifferent peoples in the course of centuries can only be understood in terms of the molding of men6s mithrough their societies, that is, through their systems of production. It has been said above, that the effectssociety upon the human mind have been deposited in material form in subse2uent historical events. Tchain of cause and effect of past events which proceeds from economic needs to new ideas, from new ideto social action, from social action to new institutions and from new institutions to new economic systemcomplete and ever reenacted. Both original cause and the final effect are economic and we may reduce process to a short formula by omitting the intermediate terms which involve the activity of the human mie can then illustrate the truth of !arxian principles by showing how, in actual history, effect follows

cause. In analy%ing the present, however, we see numerous causal chains which are not finished. hesociety works upon the minds of men, it often produces ideas, ideals and theories which do not succeedarousing men to social or class-motivated action, or fail to bring about the necessary political, uridical aeconomic changes. 3re2uently too, we find that new conditions do not at once impress themselves upon tmind. Behind apparent simplicities lurk complexities so unexpected that only a special instrument interpretation can uncover them at the moment. !arxian analysis enables us to see things more clearly. e begin to see that we are inside of a process fraught with converging influences, in the midst of the slripening of new ideas and tendencies which constitute the gradual preparation of revolution. This is why iimportant to the present generation, which today has to frame the society of tomorrow, to know ho!arxian theory may be of use to them, in understanding the events and in determining their own conduc5ence a more thorough consideration of how society acts upon the mind will be necessary here.

IIIThe human mind is entirely determined by the surrounding real world. e have already said that this worlis not restricted to physical matter only, but comprises everything that is ob ectively observable. Tthoughts and ideas of our fellow men, which we observe by means of their conversation or by our readare included in this real world. 1lthough fanciful ob ects of these thoughts such as angels, spirits or a1bsolute Idea do not belong to it, the belief in such ideas is a real phenomenon, and may have a notabinfluence on historical events.

The impressions of the world penetrate the human mind as a continuous stream. 1ll our observations of tsurrounding world, all experiences of our lives are continually enriching the contents of our memories aour subconscious minds.

The recurrence of nearly the same situation and the same experience leads to definite habits of action theare accompanied by definite habits of thought. The fre2uent repetition of the same observed se2uence phenomena is retained in the mind and produces an expectation of the se2uence. The rule that the phenomena are always connected in this way is then acted upon. But this rule ( sometimes elevated to a lof nature ( is a mental abstraction of a multitude of analogous phenomena, in which differences aneglected, and agreement emphasi%ed. The names by which we denote definite similar parts of the worl phenomena indicate conceptions which likewise are formed by taking their common traits, the genecharacter of the totality of these phenomena, and abstracting them from their differences. The endlediversity, the infinite plurality of all the unimportant, accidental traits, are neglected and the importaessential characteristics are preserved. Through their origin as habits of thought these concepts becofixed, crystalli%ed, invariable each advance in clarity of thinking consists in more exactly definingconcepts in terms of their properties, and in more exactly formulating the rules. The world of experienhowever, is continually expanding and changing our habits are disturbed and must be modified, and nconcepts substituted for old ones. !eanings, definitions, scopes of concepts all shift and vary.

hen the world does not change very much, when the same phenomena and the same experiences alwayreturn, the habits of acting and thinking become fixed with great rigidity the new impressions of the mind

into the image formed by former experience and intensify it. These habits and these concepts are n personal but collective property they are not lost with the death of the individual. They are intensified by mutual intercourse of the members of the community, who all are living in the same world, and they transferred to the next generation as a system of ideas and beliefs, an ideology ( the mental store of th

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community. here for many centuries the system of production does not change perceptibly, as for examplin old agricultural societies, the relations between men, their habits of life, their experience of the woremain practically the same. In every new generation living under such a static productive system texisting ideas, concepts and habits of thinking will petrify more and more into a dogmatic, unassailaideology of eternal truth.

hen, however, in conse2uence of the development of the productive forces, the world is changing, new andifferent impressions enter the mind which do not fit in with the old image. There then begins a processrebuilding, out of parts of old ideas and new experiences. #ld concepts are replaced by new ones, form

roles and udgments are upset, new ideas emerge. 'ow every member of a class or group is affected in thsame way and at the same time. Ideological strife arises in connection with the class struggles and is eage pursued, because all the different individual lives are linked in diverse ways with the problem of how pattern society and its system of production. "nder modern capitalism, economic and political changes ta place so rapidly that the human mind can hardly keep pace with them. In fierce internal struggles, ideas revolutioni%ed, sometimes rapidly, by spectacular events, sometimes slowly, by continuous warfare agathe weight of the old ideology. In such a process of unceasing transformation, human consciousness adaitself to society, to the real world.

5ence !arx6s thesis that the real world determines consciousness does not mean that contemporary ideas adetermined solely by contemporary society. #ur ideas and concepts are the crystalli%ation, tcomprehensive essence of the whole of our experience, present and past. hat was already fixed in the pain abstract mental forms must be included with such adaptations of the present as are necessary. 'ew ideathus appear to arise from two sources4 present reality and the system of ideas transmitted from the past. of this distinction arises one of the most common ob ections against !arxism. The ob ection, namely, thanot only the real material world, but in no less degree, the ideological elements ( ideas, beliefs and idealdetermine man6s mind and thus his deeds, and therefore the future of the world. This would be a corrcriticism if ideas originated by themselves, without cause, or from the innate nature of man, or from sosupernatural spiritual source. !arxism, however, says that these ideas also must have their origin in the reworld under social conditions.

1s forces in modern social development, these traditional ideas hamper the spread of new ideas that exprenew necessities. In taking these traditions into account we need not leave the realm of !arxism. 3or evertradition is a piece of reality, ust as every idea is itself a part of the real world, living in the mind of menis often a very powerful reality as a determinant of men6s actions. It is a reality of an ideological nature thas lost its material roots because the former conditions of life which produced them have since disappearThat these traditions could persist after their material roots have disappeared is not simply a conse2uencethe nature of the human mind, which is capable of preserving in memory or subconsciously the impressioof the past. !uch more important is what may be termed the social memory, the perpetuation of collectivideas, systemati%ed in the form of prevailing beliefs and ideologies, and transferred to future generationoral communications, in books, in literature, in art and in education. The surrounding world whidetermines the mind consists not only of the contemporary economic world, but also of all the ideologi

influences derived from continuous intercourse with our fellow men. 5ence comes the power of traditiowhich in a rapidly developing society causes the development of the ideas to lag behind the developmentsociety. In the end tradition must yield to the power of the incessant battering of new realities. Its effect upsocial development is that instead of permitting a regular gradual ad ustment of ideas and institutions in lwith the changing necessities, these necessities when too strongly in contradiction with the old institutiolead to explosions, to revolutionary transformations, by which lagging minds are drawn along and athemselves revolutioni%ed.

:ENERA6 RE ARKS ON T E = ESTION O3

OR:ANISATION819*>1'T#' ?1''E8#E8

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#rganisation is the chief principle in the working class fight for emancipation. 5ence the forms of thorganisation constitute the most important problem in the practice of the working class movement. It is cthat these forms depend on the conditions of society and the aims of the fight. They cannot be the inventof theory, but have to be built up spontaneously by the working class itself, guided by its immedianecessities.ith expanding capitalism the workers first built their trade unions. The isolated worker was powerlesagainst the capitalist so he had to unite with his fellows in bargaining and fighting over the price of

labour-power and the hours of labour. $apitalists and workers have opposite interests in capitalist production their class struggle is over the division of the total product between them. In normal capitalisthe workersO share is the value of their labour power, i.e., what is necessary to sustain and restore continutheir capacities to work. The remaining part of the product is the surplus value, the share of the capitalclass. The capitalists, in order to increase their profit, try to lower wages and increase the hours of labohere the workers were powerless, wages were depressed below the existence minimum the hours olabour were lengthened until the bodily and mental health of the working class deteriorated so as to endanthe future of society. The formation of unions and of laws regulating working conditions -- features risout of the bitter fight of workers for their very lives -- were necessary to restore normal conditions of win capitalism. The capitalist class itself recognised that trade unions are necessary to direct the revolt of workers into regular channels to prevent them from breaking out in sudden explosions./imilarly, political organisations have grown up, though not everywhere in exactly the same way, becauthe political conditions are different in different countries. In 1merica, where a population of farmerartisans and merchants free from feudal bonds could expand over a continent with endless possibiliticon2uering the natural resources, the workers did not feel themselves a separate class. They were imbuedwere the whole of the people, with the bourgeois spirit of individual and collective fight for personwelfare, and the conditions made it possible to succeed to a certain extent. Except at rare moments or amorecent immigrant groups, no need was seen for a separate working class party. In the European countries,the other hand, the workers were dragged into the political struggle by the fight of the rising bourgeoiagainst feudalism. They soon had to form working class parties and, together with part of the bourgeoishad to fight for political rights4 for the right to form unions, for free press and speech, for universal suffrfor democratic institutions. 1 political party needs general principles for its propaganda for its fight wother parties it wants a theory having definite views about the future of society. The European working clain which communistic ideas had already developed, found its theory in the scientific work of !arx anEngels, explaining the development of society through capitalism toward communism by means of the clstruggle. This theory was accepted in the programs of the /ocial emocratic ?arties of most Europeancountries in England, the Habour ?arty formed by the trade unions, professed analogous but vaguer ideabout a kind of socialist commonwealth as the aim of the workers.In their program and propaganda, the proletarian revolution was the final result of the class struggle tvictory of the working class over its oppressors was to be the beginning of a communistic or socialist systof production. But so long as capitalism lasted, the practical fight had to centre on immediate needs and preservation of standards in capitalism. "nder parliamentary government parliament is the battlefield whethe interests of the different classes of society meet big and small capitalists, land owners, farmers, artisamerchants, industrialists, workers, all have their special interests that are defended by their spokesmen parliament, all participate in the struggle for power and for their part in the total product. The workers hto take part in this struggle. /ocialist or labour parties have the special task of fighting by political means the immediate needs and interests of the workers within capitalism. In this way they get the votes of tworkers and grow in political influence.ith the modern development of capitalism, conditions have changed. The small workshops have beesuperseded by large factories and plants with thousands and tens of thousands of workers. ith this growtof capitalism and of the working class, its organisations also had to expand. 3rom local groups the traunions grew to national federations with hundreds of thousands of members. They had to collect large fufor support in big strikes, and still larger ones for social insurance. 1 large staff of managers, administrato

presidents, secretaries, editors of their papers, an entire bureaucracy of organisation leaders developed. Thhad to haggle and bargain with the bosses they became the specialists ac2uainted with methods acircumstances. Eventually they became the real leaders, the masters of the organisations, masters of tmoney as well as of the press, while the members themselves lost much of their power. This development

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the organisations of the workers into instruments of power over them has many examples in history whorganisations grow too large, the masses lose control of them.The same change takes place in the political organisations, when from small propaganda groups they grinto big political parties. The parliamentary representatives are the leading politicians of the party. Thhave to do the real fighting in the representative bodies they are the specialists in that field they make the editorial, propaganda, and executive personnel4 their influence determines the politics and tactical linthe party. The members may send delegates to debate at party congresses, but their power is nominal aillusory. The character of the organisation resembles that of the other political parties -- organisations politicians who try to win votes for their slogans and power for themselves. #nce a socialist party has a la

number of delegates in parliament it allies with others against reactionary parties to form a working ma or/oon socialists become ministers, state officials, mayors and aldermen. #f course, in this position thecannot act as delegates of the working class, governing for the workers against the capitalist class. The r political power and even the parliamentary ma ority remain in the hands of the capitalist class. /ocialministers have to represent the interests of the present capitalist society, i.e., of the capitalist class. They cattempt to initiate measures for the immediate interests of the workers and try to induce the capitalist parto ac2uiesce. They become middlemen, mediators pleading with the capitalist class to consent to smreforms in the interests of the workers, and then try to convince the workers that these are important reforthat they should accept. 1nd then the /ocialist ?arty, as an instrument in the hands of these leaders, has tsupport them and also, instead of calling upon the workers to fight for their interests, seeks to pacify thedeflect them from the class struggle.Indeed, fighting conditions have grown worse for the workers. The power of the capitalist class hincreased enormously with its capital. The concentration of capital in the hands of a few captains of finanand industry, the coalition of the bosses themselves, confronts the trade unions with a much stronger aoften nearly unassailable power. The fierce competition of the capitalists of all countries over markets, rmaterials and world power, the necessity of using increasing parts of the surplus value for this competitifor armaments and welfare, the falling rate of profit, compel the capitalists to increase the rate exploitation, i.e., to lower the working conditions for the workers. Thus the trade unions meet increasresistance, the old methods of struggle grow useless. In their bargaining with the bosses the leaders of organisation have less success because they know the power of the capitalists, and because they themselvdo not want to fight -- since in such fights the funds and the whole existence of the organisation might lost -- they must accept what the bosses offer. /o their chief task is to assuage the workersO discontent andefend the proposals of the bosses as important gains. 5ere also the leaders of the workersO organisati become mediators between the opposing classes. 1nd when the workers do not accept the conditions astrike, the leaders either must oppose them or allow a sham fight, to be broken off as soon as possible.The fight itself, however, cannot be stopped or minimised the class antagonism and the depressing forcescapitalism are increasing, so that the class struggle must go on, the workers must fight. Time and again th break loose spontaneously without asking the union and often against their decisions. /ometimes the unileaders succeed in regaining control of these actions. This means that the fight will be gradually smothein some new arrangement between the capitalists and labour leaders. This does not mean that without tinterference such wildcat strikes would be won. They are too restricted. #nly indirectly does the fear of suexplosions tend to foster caution by the capitalists. But these strikes prove that the class fight between capand labour cannot cease, and that when the old forms are not practicable any more, the workespontaneously try out and develop new forms of action. In these actions revolt against capital is also revagainst the old organisational forms.The aim and task of the working class is the abolition of capitalism. $apitalism in its highest developmewith its ever deeper economic crises, its imperialism, its armaments, its world wars, threatens the workwith misery and destruction. The proletarian class fight, the resistance and revolt against these conditiomust go on until capitalist domination is overthrown and capitalism is destroyed.$apitalism means that the productive apparatus is in the hands of the capitalists. Because they are thmasters of the means of production, and hence of the products, they can sei%e the surplus value and expthe working class. #nly when the working class itself is master of the means of production does exploitaticease. Then the workers control entirely their conditions of life. The production of everything necessary

life is the common task of the community of workers, which is then the community of mankind. T production is a collective process. 3irst each factory, each large plant, is a collective of workers, combinitheir efforts in an organised way. !oreover, the totality of world production is a collective process all th

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separate factories have to be combined into a totality of production. 5ence, when the working class tak possession of the means of production, it has at the same time to create an organisation of production.There are many who think of the proletarian revolution in terms of the former revolutions of the midclass, as a series of consecutive phases4 first, con2uest of government and instalment of a new governmthen expropriation of the capitalist class by law, and then a new organisation of the process of productiBut such events could lead only to some kind of state capitalism. 1s the proletariat rises to dominancedevelops simultaneously its own organisation and the forms of the new economic order. These twdevelopments are inseparable and form the process of social revolution. orking class organisation into strong body capable of united mass actions already means revolution, because capitalism can rule on

unorganised individuals. hen these organised masses stand up in mass fights and revolutionary actionsand the existing powers are paralysed and disintegrated, then simultaneously the leading and regulatifunctions of former governments fall to the workersO organisations. 1nd the immediate task is to carry production, to continue the basic process of social life. /ince the revolutionary class fight against th bourgeoisie and its organs is inseparable from the sei%ure of the productive apparatus by the workers anapplication to production, the same organisation that unites the class for its fight also acts as the organisatof the new productive process.It is clear that the organisational forms of trade union and political party, inherited from the period expanding capitalism, are useless here. They developed into instruments in the hands of leaders unable aunwilling to engage in revolutionary fight. Headers cannot make revolutions4 labour leaders abho proletarian revolution. 3or the revolutionary fights the workers need new forms of organisation in whthey keep the powers of action in their own hands. It is pointless to try to construct or to imagine these nforms they can originate only in the practical fight of the workers themselves. They have already originathere we have only to look into practice to find its beginnings everywhere that the workers are rebelliagainst the old powers.In a wildcat strike, the workers decide all matters themselves through regular meetings. They choose strcommittees as central bodies, but the members of these committees can be recalled and replaced at amoment. If the strike extends over a large number of shops, they achieve unity of action by largcommittees consisting of delegates of all the separate shops. /uch committees are not bodies to makdecisions according to their own opinion, and over the workers they are simply messengers, communicatthe opinions and wishes of the groups they represent, and conversely, bringing to the shop meetings, fdiscussion and decision, the opinion and arguments of the other groups. They cannot play the roles leaders, because they can be momentarily replaced by others. The workers themselves must choose thway, decide their actions they keep the entire action, with all its difficulties, its risks, its responsibilitiestheir own hands. 1nd when the strike is over, the committees disappear.The only examples of a modern industrial working class as the moving force of a political revolution wthe <ussian <evolutions of 0> @ and 0>0 . 5ere the workers of each factory chose delegates, and thdelegates of all the factories together formed the Osoviet,O the council where the political situationnecessary actions were discussed. 5ere the opinions of the factories were collected, their desires harmonistheir decisions formulated. But the councils, though a strong directing influence for revolutionary educatthrough action, were not commanding bodies. /ometimes a whole council was arrested and reorganised wnew delegates at times, when the authorities were paralysed by a general strike, the soviets acted as a logovernment, and delegates of free professions oined them to represent their field of work. 5ere we have torganisation of the workers in revolutionary action, though of course only imperfectly, groping and tryifor new methods. This is possible only when all the workers with all their forces participate in the actiwhen their very existence is at stake, when they actually take part in the decisions and are entirely devotedthe revolutionary fight.1fter the revolution this council organisation disappeared. The proletarian centres of big industry were smislands in an ocean of primitive agricultural society where capitalist development had not yet begun. Ttask of initiating capitalism fell to the $ommunist ?arty. /imultaneously, political power centred in its handand the soviets were reduced to subordinate organs with only nominal powers.The old forms of organisation, the trade union and political party and the new form of councils *sovie belong to different phases in the development of society and have different functions. The first has to sec

the position of the working class among the other classes within capitalism and belongs to the periodexpanding capitalism. The latter has to secure complete dominance for the workers, to destroy capitaliand its class divisions, and belongs to the period of declining capitalism. In a rising and prosperocapitalism, council organisation is impossible because the workers are entirely occupied in ameliorating th

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conditions, which is possible at that time through trade unions and political action. In a decaying crisridden capitalism, these efforts are useless and faith in them can only hamper the increase of self-action the masses. In such times of heavy tension and growing revolt against misery, when strike movemenspread over whole countries and hit at the roots of capitalist power, or when, following wars or politiccatastrophes, the government authority crumbles and the masses act, the old organisational forms fail agaithe new forms of self-activity of the masses./pokesmen for socialist or communist parties often admit that, in revolution, organs of self-action by tmasses are useful in destroying the old domination but then they say these have to yield to parliamentdemocracy to organise the new society. Het us compare the basic principles of both forms of politi

organisation of society.#riginal democracy in small towns and districts was exercised by the assembly of all the citi%ens. ith th big population of modern towns and countries this is impossible. The people can express their will onlychoosing delegates to some central body that represents them all. The delegates for parliamentary bodies free to act, to decide, to vote, to govern after their own opinion by Ohonour and conscience,O as it is called in solemn terms.The council delegates, however, are bound by mandate they are sent simply to express the opinions of workersO groups who sent them. They may be called back and replaced at any moment. Thus the worwho gave them the mandate keep the power in their own hands.#n the other hand, members of parliament are chosen for a fixed number of years only at the polls are thciti%ens masters -- on this one day when they choose their delegates. #nce this day has passed, their powhas gone and the delegates are independent, free to act for a term of years according to their owOconscience,O restricted only by the knowledge that after this period they have to face the voters anewthen they count on catching their votes in a noisy election campaign, bombing the confused voters wslogans and demagogic phrases. Thus not the voters but the parliamentarians are the real masters who dec politics. 1nd the voters do not even send persons of their own choice as delegates they are presented them by the political parties. 1nd then, if we suppose that people could select and send persons of their owchoice, these persons would not form the government in parliamentary democracy the legislative and executive powers are separated. The real government dominating the people is formed by a bureaucracyofficials so far removed from the peopleOs vote as to be practically independent. That is how it is possthat capitalistic dominance is maintained through general suffrage and parliamentary democracy. This is win capitalistic countries, where the ma ority of the people belongs to the working class, this democracannot lead to a con2uest of political power. 3or the working class, parliamentary democracy is a shademocracy, whereas council representation is real democracy4 the direct rule of the workers over their oaffairs.?arliamentary democracy is the political form in which the different important interests in a capitalist sociexert their influence upon government. The delegates represent certain classes4 farmers, merchanindustrialists, workers but they do not represent the common will of their voters. Indeed, the voters odistrict have no common will they are an assembly of individuals, capitalists, workers, shopkeepers, chance living at the same place, having partly opposing interests.$ouncil delegates, on the other hand, are sent out by a homogeneous group to express its common wi$ouncils are not only made up of workers, having common class interests they are a natural group, workitogether as the personnel of one factory or section of a large plant, and are in close daily contact with eaother, having the same adversary, having to decide their common actions as fellow workers in which thhave to act in united fashion not only on the 2uestions of strike and fight, but also in the new organisation production. $ouncil representation is not founded upon the meaningless grouping of ad acent villages districts, but upon the natural groupings of workers in the process of production, the real basis of society.5owever, councils must not be confused with the so-called corporative representation propagated in fasccountries. This is a representation of the different professions or trades *masters and workers combineconsidered as fixed constituents of society. This form belongs to a medieval society with fixed classes aguilds, and in its tendency to petrify interest groups it is even worse than parliamentarism, where new groand new interests rising up in the development of capitalism soon find their expression in parliament agovernment.

$ouncil representation is entirely different because it is the representation of a class engaged revolutionary struggle. It represents working class interests only, and prevents capitalist delegates acapitalist interests from participation. It denies the right of existence to the capitalist class in society and tto eliminate capitalists by taking the means of production away from them. hen in the progress o

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revolution the workers must take up the functions of organising society, the same council organisationtheir instrument. This means that the workersO councils then are the organs of the dictatorship of proletariat. This dictatorship of the proletariat is not a shrewdly devised voting system artificially excludcapitalists and the bourgeoisie from the polls. It is the exercise of power in society by the natural organsthe workers, building up the productive apparatus as the basis of society. In these organs of the workeconsisting of delegates of their various branches in the process of production, there is no place for robbersexploiters standing outside productive work. Thus the dictatorship of the working class is at the same tithe most perfect democracy, the real workersO democracy, excluding the vanishing class of exploiters.The adherents of the old forms of organisation exalt democracy as the only right and ust political form,

against dictatorship, an un ust form. !arxism knows nothing of abstract right or ustice it explains th political forms in which mankind expresses its feelings of political right, as conse2uences of the economstructure of society. In !arxian theory we can find also the basis of the difference between parliamentardemocracy and council organisation. 1s bourgeois democracy and proletarian democracy respectively threflect the different character of these two classes and their economic systems.Bourgeois democracy is founded upon a society consisting of a large number of independent sma producers. They want a government to take care of their common interests4 public security and ord protection of commerce, uniform systems of weight and money, administering of law and ustice. 1ll thethings are necessary in order that everybody can do his business in his own way. ?rivate business takes twhole attention, forms the life interests of everybody, and those political factors are, though necessary, osecondary and demand only a small part of their attention. The chief content of social life, the basisexistence of society, the production of all the goods necessary for life, is divided up into private businessthe separate citi%ens, hence it is natural that it takes nearly all their time, and that politics, their collecaffair, is a subordinate matter, providing only for auxiliary conditions. #nly in bourgeois revolutionamovements do people take to the streets. But in ordinary times politics are left to a small group of speciali politicians, whose work consists ust of taking care of these general, political conditions of bourge business.The same holds true for the workers, as long as they think only of their direct interests. In capitalism thwork long hours, all their energy is exhausted in the process of exploitation, and little mental power afresh thought is left them. Earning their wage is the most immediate necessity of life their political interetheir common interest in safeguarding their interests as wage earners may be important, but are stsecondary. /o they leave this part of their interests also to specialists, to their party politicians and their traunion leaders. By voting as citi%ens or members the workers may give some general directions, ustmiddle-class voters may influence their politicians, but only partially, because their chief attention mremain concentrated upon their work.?roletarian democracy under communism depends upon ust the opposite economic conditions. It is foundnot on private but on collective production. ?roduction of the necessities of life is no longer a person business, but a collective affair. The collective affairs, formerly called political affairs, are no longsecondary, but the chief ob ect of thought and action for everybody. hat was called politics in the formesociety -- a domain for specialists -- has become the vital interest of every worker. It is not the securingsome necessary conditions of production, it is the process and the regulation of production itself. Tseparation of private and collective affairs and interests has ceased. 1 separate group or class of specialistaking care of the collective affairs is no longer necessary. Through their council delegates, which link thtogether, the producers themselves are managing their own productive work.The two forms of organisation are not distinguished in that the one is founded upon a traditional aideological basis, and the other on the material productive basis of society. Both are founded upon tmaterial basis of the system of production, one on the declining system of the past, the other on the growsystem of the future. <ight now we are in the period of transition, the time of big capitalism and t beginnings of the proletarian revolution. In big capitalism the old system of production has already bdestroyed in its foundations the large class of independent producers has disappeared. The main part production is collective work of large groups of workers but the control and ownership have remained ifew private hands. This contradictory state is maintained by the strong power factors of the capitalisespecially the state power exerted by the governments. The task of the proletarian revolution is to destr

this state power its real content is the sei%ure of the means of production by the workers. The procesrevolution is an alternation of actions and defeats that builds up the organisation of the proletaridictatorship, which at the same time is the dissolution, step by step, of the capitalist state power. 5ence it

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the process of the replacement of the organisation system of the past by the organisation system of tfuture.e are only in the beginnings of this revolution. The century of class struggle behind us cannot be

considered a beginning as such, but only a preamble. It developed invaluable theoretical knowledge, it fougallant revolutionary words in defiance of the capitalist claim of being a final social system it awakened workers from the hopelessness of misery. But its actual fight remained bound within the confines capitalism, it was action through the medium of leaders and sought only to set easy masters in the placehard ones. #nly a sudden flickering of revolt, such as political or mass strikes breaking out against the wof the politicians, now and then announced the future of self-determined mass action. Every wildcat stri

not taking its leaders and catchwords from the offices of parties and unions, is an indication of thdevelopment, and at the same time a small step in its direction. 1ll the existing powers in the proletarimovement, the socialist and communist parties, the trade unions, all the leaders whose activity is boundthe bourgeois democracy of the past, denounce these mass actions as anarchistic disturbances. Because thfield of vision is limited to their old forms of organisation, they cannot see that the spontaneous actionsthe workers bear in them the germs of higher forms of organisation. In fascist countries, where bourgedemocracy has been destroyed, such spontaneous mass actions will be the only form of future proletarrevolt. Their tendency will not be a restoration of the former middle class democracy but an advance in direction of the proletarian democracy, i.e., the dictatorship of the working class.

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I.

Thirty years ago every socialist was convinced that the approaching war of the great capitalist powers womean the final catastrophe of capitalism and would be succeeded by the proletarian revolution. Even whthe war did break out and the socialist and labor movement collapsed as a revolutionary factor, the hopesthe revolutionary workers ran high. Even then they were sure that the world revolution would follow in wake of the world war. 1nd indeed it came. Hike a bright meteor the <ussian revolution flared up and shoall over the earth, and in all the countries the workers rose and began to move.#nly a few years alter it became clear that the revolution was decaying, that social convulsions wedecreasing, that the capitalist order was gradually being restored. Today the revolutionary workemovement is at its lowest ebb and capitalism is more powerful than ever. #nce again a great war has comand again the thoughts of workers and communists turn to the 2uestion4 will it affect the capitalistic systo such a degree that a workers revolution will arise out of it: ill the hope of a successful struggle fo

freedom of the working class come true this time:It is clear that we cannot hope to get an answer to this 2uestion so long as we do not understand why revolutionary movements after 0>0C failed. #nly by investigating all the forces that were then at work we get a clear insight into the causes of that failure. /o we must turn our attention to what happened twenyears ago in the workersO movement of the world.

II.The growth of the workers movement was not the only important nor even the most important fact in history of the past century. #f primary importance was the growth of capitalism itself. It grew not only intensity-through concentration of capital, the increasing perfection of industrial tecnics, the increase productivity-but also in extensity. 3rom the first centers of industry and commerce- England, 3ranc1merica and Germany-capitalism began to invade foreign countries, and now is con2uering the whole earIn former centuries foreign continents were subdued to be exploited as colonies. But at the end of the 0and at the beginning of the 7 th centuries we see a higher form of con2uest. These continents werassimilated by capitalism they became themselves capitalistic. This most important process, that went

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with increasing rapidity in the last century, meant a fundamental change in their economic structure. In shthere was the basis of a series of world-wide revolutions.The central countries of developed capitalism, with the middle class-the bourgeoisie-as the ruling class, wformerly surrounded by a fringe of other, less developed countries. 5ere the social structure was still entireagrarian and more-or-less feudal the large plains were cultivated by farmers who were exploited landowners and stood in continuous, more-or-less open struggle against them and the reining autocrats.the case of the colonies this internal pressure was intensified through exploitation by European coloncapital that made the landowners and kings its agents. In other cases this stronger exploitation by Europecapital was brought about by financial loans of governments, which laid heavy taxes upon the farme

<ailways, introducing the factory products that destroyed the old home industries and carried away ramaterial and food, were built. this gradually drew the farmers into world commerce and aroused in them desire to become free producers for the market. 3actories were constructed a class of business men adealers developed in the towns who felt the necessity of better government for their interest. Foung peopstudying at western universities, became the revolutionary spokesmen of these tendencies. they formulathese tendencies in theoretical programs, advocating chiefly national freedom and independence,responsible democratic government, civil rights and liberties, in order that they may find their useful placeofficials and politicians in a modern state.This development in the capitalistic world proper took place simultaneously with the development of workersO movement within the central countries of big capitalism. 5ere then were two revolutionmovements, not only parallel and simultaneous, but also with many points of contact. they had a commfoe, capitalism, that in the form of industrial capitalism exploited the workers, and in the form of colonand financial capitalism exploited the farmers in the Eastern and colonial countries and sustained thedespotic rulers. the revolutionary groups from these countries found understanding and assistance only frthe socialist workers of western Europe. /o they called themselves socialists too. the old illusions thmiddle class revolutions would bring freedom and e2uality to the entire population were reborn,In reality there was a deep and fundamental difference between these two kinds of revolutionary aims, so-called estern and eastern. The proletarian revolution can be the result only of the highest developmenof capitalism. It puts an end to capitalism. the revolutions in the eastern countries were the conse2uencesthe beginning of capitalism in these countries. Kiewed thus, they resemble the middle class revolutions inestern countries and-with due consideration for the fact that their special character must somewha

different in different countries- they must be regarded as middle class revolutions. Though there was nsuch a numerous middle class of artisans, petty bourgeois and wealthy peasants as there was in the 3renand the English revolutions *because in the East, capitalism came suddenly, with a smaller number of factories+ still the general character is analogous. 5ere also we have the awakening out of the provincview of an agrarian village to the consciousness of a nation-wide community and to interest in the whworld the rising of individualism that frees itself from the old group bonds the growth of energy to w personal power and wealth the liberation of the mind from old superstitions, and the desire for knowledga means of progress. 1ll this is the mental e2uipment necessary to bring mankind from the slow life of pcapitalist conditions into the rapid industrial and economic progress that later on will open the way communism.The general character of a proletarian revolution must be 2uite different. Instead of reckless fighting personal interests there must be a common action for the interests of the class community. 1 worker, a sing person, is powerless only as part of his class, as a member of a strongly connected economic group canget power. orkers individualities are disciplined into line by their habit of working and fighting togetheTheir minds must be freed from social superstitions and they must see as a commonplace truth that once thare strongly united that they can produce abundance and liberate society from misery and want. This is pof the mental e2uipment necessary to bring mankind from class exploitation, the misery, the mutudestruction of capitalism into communism itself.Thus the two kinds of revolution are as widely different as are the beginning and end of capitalism. e casee this clearly now, thirty years later. we can understand too, how at the time they could be considered nonly as allies, but were thrown together as two sides of the same great world-revolution. The great day wsupposed to be near the working class, with its large socialist parties and still larger unions, would so

con2uer power. 1nd then at the same time, with the power of western capitalism breaking down, all thcolonies and eastern countries would be freed from western domination and take up their own national life

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1nother reason for confusing these different social aims was that at that time the minds of the westeworkers were entirely occupied by reformist ideas about reforming capitalism into the democratic formsits beginning and only a few among them reali%ed the meaning of a proletarian revolution.

III.The world war of 0>0=-0C, with itOs utter destruction of productive forces, cut deep furrows througsocial structure, especially of central and eastern Europe. emperors disappeared, old out-moded governmewere overthrown, social forces from below were loosened, different classes of different peoples, in a serof revolutionary movements, tried to win power and to reali%e their class aims.

In the highly industriali%ed countries the class struggle of the workers was already the dominating factohistory. 'ow these workers had gone through a world war. They learned that capitalism not only lays claimon their working power, but upon their lives too completely, body and soul, they are owned by capital. Tdestruction and impoverishment of the productive apparatus, the misery and privation suffered during war, the disappointment and distress after the peace brought waves of unrest and rebelliousness over participating countries. Because Germany had lost, the rebellion here of the workers was greatest. In place of pre-war conservatism, there arose a new spirit in the German workers, compounded of couraenergy, yearnings for freedom and for revolutionary struggle against capitalism. It was only a beginning it was the first beginning of a proletarian revolution.In the eastern countries of Europe the class struggle had a different composition. the land owning nobilwas dispossessed the farmers sei%ed the land a class of small or middle-si%ed free landownders ar3ormer revolutionary conspirators became leaders and ministers and generals in the new national statThese revolutions were middle-class revolutions and as such indicated the beginning of an unlimitdevelopment of capitalism and industry.In <ussia this revolution went deeper than anywhere else. Because it destroyed the $%arist world powwhich for a century had been a dominating power in Europe and the most hated enemy of all democracy asocialism, the <ussian revolution led all the revolutionary movements in Europe. ItOs leader had bassociated for many years with the socialist leaders of estern Europe ust as the $%ar had been the ally othe English and 3rench governments. It is true that the chief social contents of the <ussian <evolution-tland sei%ures by the peasants and the smashing of the autocracy and nobility-show it to be a middle-crevolution and the Bolsheviks themselves accentuated this character by often comparing themselves with acobins of the 3rench <evolution.But the workers in the west, themselves full of traditions of petty bourgeois freedom, did not consider tforeign to them. 1nd the <ussian revolution did more than simply rouse their admiration it showed them example in methods of action. ItOs power in decisive moments was the power of spontaneous mass actiothe industrial workers in the big towns. #ut of these actions the <ussian workers also built up that form organi%ation most appropriate to independent action-the soviets or councils. Thus they became the guand teachers of the workers in other countries.hen a year later, 'ovember 0>0C, the German empire collapsed, the appeal to world revolution issued bythe <ussian Bolsheviks was hailed and welcomed by the foremost revolutionary groups in estern Europethese groups, calling themselves communists, were so strongly impressed by the proletarian character of revolutionary struggle in <ussia that they overlooked the fact that, economically, <ussia stood only at tthreshold of capitalism, and that the proletarian centers were only small islands in the ocean of primit peasantry. !oreover they reasoned that when a world revolution came, <ussia would be only a world province-the place where the struggle started-whereas the more advanced countries of big capitalism wosoon take the lead and determine the worldOs real course.But the first rebellious movement among the German workers was beaten down. It was only an advancminority that took part the great mass held aloof, nursing the illusion that 2uiet and peace were no possible. 1gainst these rebels stood a coalition of the /ocial- emocratic party, whose leaders occupied thegovernment seats, and the old governing classes, bourgeoisie and army officers. hile the former lulled thmasses into inactivity, the latter organi%ed armed bands that crushed the rebellious movement and murdethe revolutionary leaders, Hiebnecht and <osa Huxemburg.The <ussian revolution, through fear, had aroused the bourgeoisie to greater energy than it had aroused t

proletariat through hope. Though, for the moment, the political organi%ation of the bourgeoisie collapsed, itOs real material and spiritual power was enormous. The socialist leadership did nothinweaken this power they feared the proletarian revolution no less than the bourgeoisie did. They deverything to restore the capitalist order, in which, for the moment, they were ministers and presidents.

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communist parties, without the necessity of changing their own ideas and convictions. /o !oscow tacticfollowed logically from the basic misunderstanding.1nd what had !oscow propagated had by far the greatest weight. it had the authority of a victorious againsa defeated *German+ revolution. ill you be wiser than your teachers: The moral authority of <ussia$ommunism was so undisputed that even a year later the excluded German opposition asked to be admittas a Osympathi%ingJ adherent to the Third International. But besides moral authority, the <ussians hamaterial authority of money behind them. 1n enormous amount of literature, easily paid for by !oscowsubsidies, flooded the western countries4 weekly papers, pamphlets, exciting news about successes in <usscientific reviews, all explaining !oscowOs views. 1gainst this overwhelming offensive of nois

propaganda, the small groups of estern communists, with their lack of financial means, had no chance. /othe new and sprouting recognition of the conditions necessary for revolution were beaten down and strang by !oscowOs powerful weapons. !oreover <ussian subsidies were used to support a number of salarie party secretaries, who, under threat of being fired, naturally turned into defenders of <ussian tactics.hen it became apparent that even all this was not sufficient, Henin himself wrote his well known pamphlJHeft- ing $ommunism [ 1n Infantile isorder.J Though his arguments showed only his lack ofunderstanding of western conditions, the fact that Henin, with his still unbroken authority, so openly tosides in the internal differences, had a great influence on a number of western communists. 1nd yenotwithstanding all this, the ma ority of the German communist party stuck to the knowledge they hgained through their experience of proletarian struggles. /o at their next congress at 5eidelberg, r. Hevi, bysome dirty tricks, had first to divide the ma ority-to excluded one part, and then to outvote the other partorder to win a formal and apparent victory for the !oscow tactics.The excluded groups went on for some years disseminating their ideas. But their views were drowned outthe enormous noise of !oscow propaganda, they had no appreciable influence on the political events of thnext years. They could only maintain and further develop, by mutual theoretical discussions and som publications, their understanding of the conditions of proletarian revolution and keep them alive for timecome.The beginnings of a proletarian revolution in the est had been killed by the powerful middle clasrevolution of the East.

K.Is it correct to call this <ussian revolution that destroyed the bourgeoisie and introduced socialism a midclass revolution:/ome years afterwards in the big towns of poverty-stricken <ussia special shops with plate glass fronts anex2uisite, expensive delicacies appeared, especially for the rich, and luxurious night clubs were openfre2uented by gentlemen and ladies in evening dress-chiefs of departments, high officials, directors factories and committees. they were stared at in surprise by the poor in the streets, and the disillusioncommunists said4 JThere go the new bourgeoisie.J They were wrong. It was not a new bourgeoisie buwas a new ruling class. hen a new ruling class comes up, disappointed revolutionaries always call it by thname of the former ruling class. In the 3rench revolution, the rising capitalists were called Jthe nearistocracy.J 5ere in <ussia the new class firmly seated in the saddle as masters of the production apparatuwas the bureaucracy. It had to play in <ussia the same role that in the est the middle class, the bourgeoisiehad played4 to develop the country by industriali%ation from primitive conditions to high productivity.Aust as in estern Europe the bourgeoisie had risen out of the common people of artisans and peasantincluding some aristocrats, by ability, luck and cunning, so the <ussian ruling bureaucracy had risen frothe working class and the peasants *including former officials+ by ability, luck and cunning. The differenthat in the "//< they did not own the means of production individually but collectively so their mutualcompetition, too, must go on in other forms. This means a fundamental difference in the economic systecollective, planned production and exploitation instead of individual hapha%ard production and exploitatstate capitalism instead of private capitalism. 3or the working masses, however, the difference is slight, nfundamental once more they are exploited by a middle class. But now this exploitation is intensified by dictatorial form of government, by the total lack of all those liberties which in the est render fightinagainst the bourgeoisie possible.

This character of modern <ussia determined the character of the fight of the Third International. 1lternatired-hot utterances with the flattest parliamentary opportunism, or combining both, the 9rd International trto win the adherence of the working masses of the est. It exploited the class antagonism of the workeragainst capitalism to win power for the ?arty. It caught up all the revolutionary enthusiasm of youth and

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the rebellious impulses of the masses, prevented them from developing into a growing proletarian powand wasted them in worthless political adventures. It hoped thus to get power over the estern bourgeoisi but it was not able to do so, because understanding of the inner-most character of big capitalism was totalacking. This capitalism cannot be con2uered by an outside force it can be destroyed only from within,the proletarian revolution. $lass domination can be destroyed only by the initiative and insight of a sereliant proletarian class4 party discipline and obedience of the masses to their leaders can only lead to a nclass domination. Indeed in Italy and Germany this activity of the $ommunist ?arty prepared the way ffascism.The $ommunist ?arties that belong to the Third International are entirely-materially and mentally-depend

on <ussia, are the obedient servants of the rulers of <ussia. 5ence, when <ussia, after 0>99, felt that it muline up with 3rance against Germany, all former intransigence was forgotten. The $omintern became tchampion of JdemocracyJ and united not only with socialists but even with some capitalist parties into so-called ?opular 3ront. Gradually itOs power to attract, through pretending that it represented the revolutionary traditions, began to disappear itOs proletarian following diminished.But at the same time, itOs influence on the intellectual middle classes in Europe and 1merica began to gr1 large number of books and reviews in all fields of social thought were issued by more or less camouflag$.?. publishing houses in England, 3rance and 1merica. /ome of them were valuable historical studies o popular compilations but mostly they were worthless expositions of so-called Heninism. 1ll this wliterature evidently not intended for workers, but for intellectuals, in order to win them over to <ussicommunism.The new approach met with some success. The ex-soviet diplomat 1lexander Barmine tells in his memohow he perceived with surprise in western Europe that ust when he and other Bolshevists began to hatheir doubts as to the outcome of the <ussian revolution, the western middle class intellectuals, misled by lying praises of the successes of the 3ive Fear ?lan, began to feel a sympathetic interest in $ommunism. Threason is clear4 now that <ussia was obviously not a workerOs state any more, they felt that this stcapitalistic rule of a bureaucracy came nearer to their own ideals of rule by the intelligentsia than did tEuropenan and 1merican rule of big finance. 'ow that a new ruling minority over and above the masses waestablished in <ussia, the $ommunist ?arty, itOs foreign servant had to turn to those classes from whiwhen private capitalism collapsed, new rulers for exploiting the masses could arise.#f course, to succed in this way, they needed a workerOs revolution to put down capitalist power. Then tmust try to divert it from itOs own aims and make it an instrument for their party rule. /o we see what kindifficulties the future working class revolution may have to face. It will have to fight not only t bourgeoisie but the enemies of the bourgeoisie as well. It has not only to throw off the yoke of itOs premasters it must also keep from those who would try to be itOs future masters.

KI.The world has now entered into itOs new great imperialistic war. $autious though the warring governmmay be in handling the economic and social forces and in trying to prevent hell from breaking loose entirthey will not be able to hold back a social catastrophe. ith the general exhaustion and impoverishmentmost severe on the European continent, with the spirit of fierce aggressiveness still mighty, violent clstruggles will accompany the unavoidable new ad ustments of the system of production. Then, with privcapitalism broken down, the issues will be planned economy, state capitalism, workerOs exploitation onone side workerOs freedom and mastery over production on the other.The working class is going into this war burdened with the capitalistic tradition of ?arty leadership and t phantom tradition of a revolution of the <ussian kind. the tremendous pressure of this war will drive tworkers into spontaneous resistance against their governments and into the beginnings of new forms of rfight. hen it happens that <ussia enters the field against the estern powers, it will reopen itOs old box oslogans and make an appeal to the workers for Oworld revolution against capitalismJ in an attempt to gerebellious-minded workers on itOs side. /o Bolshevism would have itOs chance once more. But this wouno solution for the problems of the workers. when the general misery increases and conflicts between clas become fiercer, the working class must, out of itOs own necessity, sei%e the means of production andways to free itself from the influence of Bolshevism.

1nton ?annekoekAnton Pannekoek 8as @' a! e! 19+2

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ate!ialism And isto!ical ate!ialism

IThe evolution of !arxism to its present stage can be understood only in connection with the social an political developments of the period in which it arose. ith the coming of capitalism in Germany therdeveloped simultaneously a growing opposition to the existing aristocratic absolutism. The ascendi bourgeois class needed freedom of trade and commerce, favorable legislation, a government sympatheticits interests, freedom of press and assembly in order to fight unhindered for its needs and desires. But bourgeoisie found itself confronted instead with a hostile regime, an omnipotent police, and press censorswhich suppressed every criticism of the reactionary government. The struggle between these forces, whled to the revolution of 0C=C, was first conducted on a theoretical level, as a struggle of ideas and a criticof the prevailing ideology. The criticism of the young bourgeois intelligentsia was directed mainly agaireligion and 5egelian philosophy.

5egelian philosophy in which the self-development of the Absolute +dea creates the world and then, as thedeveloping world, enters the consciousness of men, was the philosophical guise suited to the $hristianitythe <estoration after 0C0@. <eligion, handed down by past generations, served as always as the theoret

basis and ustification for the perpetuation of old class relations. /ince an open political struggle was stimpossible, the fight against the feudal oligarchy had to be conducted in a veiled form, as an attack religion. This was the task of the group of young intellectuals of 0C= among whom !arx grew up and rosto a leading position.

hile still a student !arx submitted, although reluctantly, to the force of the 5egelian method of thoughtand made it his own. That he chose for his doctoral dissertation the comparison of two great materia philosophies of ancient Greece, emocritus and Epicurus, seems to indicate, however, that in the deerecesses of his consciousness !arx inclined towards materialism. /hortly thereafter he was called upon tassume the editorship of a new paper founded by the oppositional <heinish bourgeoisie in $ologne. 5ere hwas drawn into the practical problems of the political and social struggles. /o well did he conduct the fig

that after one year of publication the paper was banned by the state. It was during this period that 3euerbamade his final step towards materialism. 3euerbach brushed aside 5egel6s fantastic system, turned to tsimple experiences of every day life, and arrived at the conclusion that religion was a man-made produ3orty years later Engels still spoke fervently of the liberating effect that 3euerbach6s work had on contemporaries, and of the enthusiasm with which !arx embraced the new ideas despite some criticareservations. To !arx this meant a new turn in the social struggle4 from attacking a heavenly image coming to grips openly with earthly realities. Thus in 0C=9 in his essay A Criticism of the Hegelian

<hilosoph$ of 9ight he wrote4

&1s far as Germany is concerned the criticism of religion is practically completed, and the criticismreligion is the basis of all criticism ... The struggle against religion is the struggle against that world whspiritual aroma is religion ... . <eligion is the moan of the oppressed creature, the sentiment of a heartlworld, as it is the spirit of spiritless conditions. It is the opium of the people. The abolition of religion, asillusory happiness of the people, is the demand for their real happiness. The demand to abandon the illusiabout their conditions is a demand to abandon a condition which re2uires illusions. The criticism of religtherefore contains potentially the criticism of the Kale of Tears whose aureole is religion. $riticism h plucked the imaginary flowers which adorned the chain, not that man should wear his fetters denudedfanciful embellishment, but that he should throw off the chain, and break the living flower ... Thus tcriticism of heaven transforms itself into the criticism of earth, the criticism of religion into the criticismright, and the criticism of theology into the criticism of politics.)

The task confronting !arx was to in2uire into the realities of social life. 5is study of the 3rench <evolutioand 3rench socialism as well as English economy and the English working class movement, in collaboratwith Engels during their stay in ?aris and Brussels, led towards further elaboration of the doctrine known

Historical :aterialism . 1s the doctrine of social development by way of class struggles we find the theory

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expounded in & <o%ert$ of <hilosoph$ ) *in 3rench 0C=D+, the &Communist :anifesto ) *0C= +, and in the preface to & A Contribution to the Criti@ue of <olitical ?conom$ ) *0C@>+.

!arx and Engels themselves refer to this system of thought as materialism in opposition to the idealism 5egel and the neo-5egelians. hat do they understand by materialism: Engels, discussing the fundamentaltheoretical problems of historical materialism in his Anti30ühring and in his booklet on 3euerbach, states inthe latter publication4

&The great basic 2uestion of all philosophy, especially of modern philosophy, is that concerning the rela

of thinking and being ... Those who asserted the primacy of the spirit to nature and, therefore, in the linstance, assumed world creation in some form or other ( comprised the camp of idealism. The others, wregarded nature as primary, belong to the various schools of materialism4)

That not only the human mind is bound up with the brain, but also that man with his brain and mind is pand parcel of the rest of the animal kingdom and the unorganic world, was a self-evident truth to !arx anEngels. This conception is common to all &schools of materialism.) hat distinguishes !arxismmaterialism from other schools must be learned from its various polemical works dealing with practi2uestions of politics and society. To !arx materialistic thought was a working method. In his writing hdoes not deal with philosophy nor does he formulate materialism into a system of philosophy he is utili%it as a method for the study of the world and thus demonstrates its validity. In the essay 2uoted above, example, !arx does not demolish the 5egelian philosophy of right by philosophical disputations, buthrough an annihilating criticism of the real conditions existing in Germany.

The materialist method replaces philosophical sophistry and disputations around abstract concepts with study of the real material world. 3euerbach preceded !arx in this respect in so far as he was the first to poiout that religious concepts and ideas are derived from material conditions. Het us take a few exampleselucidate this point. The statement &!an proposes, God disposes) the theologian interprets from the point view of the omnipotence of God. The materialist on the other hand searches for the cause of the discrepan between expectations and results and finds it in the social effects of commodity exchange and competitiThe politician debates the desirability of freedom and socialism the materialist asks4 from what individuor classes do these demands spring, what specific content do they have, and to what social need do thcorrespond: The philosopher, in abstract speculations about the essence of time, seeks to establish whethor not absolute time exists. The materialist compares the clocks to see whether it can be establishunreservedly that two phenomena occur simultaneously, or follow one another.

3euerbach, too, utili%ed the materialist method. 5e saw in living man the source of all religious ideas aconcepts. The validity of his materialism, however, depended on whether he was successful in presentinclear and comprehensive interpretation of religion. 1 materialism that leaves the problem obscure insufficient and will lead back to idealism. !arx pointed out that the mere principle of taking living man the starting point for investigation is not enough to lead to clarity. In his theses on 3euerbach in 0C=@formulated the essential difference between his materialist method and that of 3euerbach. e 2uote4

&3euerbach resolves the religious essence into the human. But the human essence is no abstraction inhein each single individual. In its reality it is the ensemble of the social relations.) *Thesis D+ &5is wconsists in the dissolution of the religious world into its secular basis. 5e overlooks the fact that aftcompleting this work, the chief thing still remains to be done. 3or the fact that the secular foundation litself above itself and establishes itself in the clouds as an independent realm is only to be explained by self-cleavage and self-contradictions of this secular basis. The latter must itself, therefore, first be understin its contradiction and then, by the removal of the contradiction, revolutionised in practice.) *Thesis =+

Briefly, man can be understood only as a social being. 3rom the individual one must proceed to society adissolve the social contradictions out of which religion has evolved. The real world, that is the sensual a

material world, where all ideology and consciousness have their origin, is human society ( with nature in background, of course, as the basis on which society rests and of which it is a part altered by man.

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1 presentation of these ideas is to be found in the book &The German +deolog$ ,) written in 0C=@-=D. The part that deals with 3euerbach, however, was first published in 0>7@ by < a%anoff, then head of the !aEngels Institute in !oscow. The complete work was not published until 0>97. 5ere the theses on 3euerbacare worked out in greater length. 1lthough it is apparent that !arx wrote 2uite hurriedly, he neverthelesgave a brilliant presentation of all essential ideas concerning the evolution of society which, later, foufurther illumination in the propaganda pamphlet &The Communist :anifesto ) and in the preface to &TheCriti@ue of <olitical ?conom$ .)

The German +deolog$ is directed first of all against the theoretical view which regarded creative

consciousness and ideas developing from ideas as the only factors that determine human history. !arx hanothing but contempt for this point of view, &The phantoms formed in the human brain,) he says on page&are necessary sublimates of their material, empirically-verifiable life process bound to material premisIt was essential to put emphasis on the real world, the material and empirically-given world as the sourceall ideology. But it was also necessary to criticise the materialist theories that culminated in 3euerbach. 1 protest against ideology the return to biological man and his physical needs is correct, but taking tindividual as an abstract being does not offer a solution to the 2uestion of how and why religious ideoriginate. 5uman society in its historical evolution is the only reality controlling human life. #nly out society can the spiritual life of man be explained. 3euerbach, in attempting to find an explanation of relig by a return to the &real) man did not find the real man, because he searched for him in the individual, inhuman being generally. 3rom this approach the world of ideas cannot be explained. Thus he was forcedfall back on the ideology of universal human love. &Insofar as 3euerbach is a materialist,) !arx said, &does not deal with history, and insofar as he considers history, he is not a materialist.) *The German

+deolog$, pp. 9 -9C+.

hat 3euerbach did not accomplish was accomplished by the historical !aterialism of !arx4 an explanationof the development of man6s ideas out of the material world. The historical development of society brilliantly rendered in the following sentence4 & ... !en, developing their material production and thmaterial intercourse, alter, along with this their real existence, their thinking and the products of ththinking.) *German +deolog$ , p. 0=+. e know reality only through experience which, as the external world,comes to us through the medium of our senses. 1 philosophical theory of knowledge will then be based this principle4 the material, empirically given world is the reality which determines thought.

The basic epistemological problem was always what truth can be attributed to thinking. The term &criti2uknowledge,) used by the professional philosophers for &theory of knowledge,) already implies a view poof doubt. In his second and fifth theses on 3euerbach !arx refers to this problem and again points out ththe practical activity of man is the essential content of his life.

&The 2uestion whether ob ective truth can be attributed to human thinking is not a 2uestion of theory but practical 2uestion. In practice man must prove the truth, i. e., the reality and power, the &this-sidedness)his thinking4) *Thesis 7+ ... &3euerbach, not satisfied withabstract thinking , appeals to sensuouscontemplation , but he does not conceive sensuousness as a practical, human-sensuous activity.) *Thesis @+

hy practical: Because man in the first place must live. 5is biological organism, his faculties and hisabilities and all his activity are adapted to this very end. ith these he must adapt himself to and asserhimself in the external world, i. e. nature, and as an individual in society, as well as with his facultythinking, the activity of the organ of thought, the brain, and with thought itself. Thinking is a bodily facuIn every phase of life man uses his power of thought to draw conclusions from his experiences on whexpectations and hopes are built and which regulate his mode of living and his actions. The correctnesshis conclusions, a condition for his survival, is determined by the very fact of his being. Thinking i purposeful adaptation to life, and therefore truth can be attributed to it though not truth in an absolute senBut on the basis of his experiences, man derives generali%ations and laws on which his expectations based. They are generally correct as is witnessed by his survival. In particular instances, however, fa

conclusions may be derived and hence failure and destruction. Hife is a continuous process of learniadaptation, development. ?ractice alone is the unsparing test of the correctness of thinking.

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Het us first consider this in relation to natural science. 5ere thought finds in practice its purest and moabstract form. This is why philosophers of nature accept this form as the sub ect for their observations a pay no attention to its similarity to the thought of every individual in his every day activity. Fet thinkingthe study of nature is only a highly developed special field of the entire social labor process. This lab process demands an accurate knowledge of natural phenomena and its integration into laws, in order toable to utili%e them successfully in the field of technics. The determination of these laws through observaof special phenomena is the task of specialists. In the study of nature it is generally accepted that practicethis instance experiment, is the test of truth. 5ere, too, it is accepted that observed regularities, known &natural laws,) are generally fairly dependable guides to human practice, and although they are fre2ue

not altogether correct and even disappointing, they are improved constantly and elaborated upon through progress of science. If at times man is referred to as the &lawmaker of nature,) it must be added that natvery often disregards these laws and summons man to make better ones.

The practice of life, however, comprises much more than the scientific study of nature. The relation of natural scientist to the world, despite his experimentation, remains sensous-observational. To him the wois an external thing. But in reality people deal with nature in their practical activities by acting upon her amaking her part of their existence4 Through his labor man does not oppose nature as an external or alworld. #n the contrary, by the toil of his hands he transforms the external world to such an extent that toriginal natural substance is no longer discernable, and while this process goes on, man changes, too. Thman creates his own world4 human society in a nature changed by him. hat meaning, then, has the 2uestioof whether his thinking leads to truth: The ob ect of his thinking is that which he himself produces by h physical and mental activities and which he controls through his brain. This is not a 2uestion of partial trusuch as, for instance, those of which Engels wrote in his book on 3euerbach that the artificial productionthe natural dyeali#arin would prove the validity of the chemical formula employed.M0N This is not, torepeat, a 2uestion of partial truths in a specific field of knowledge, where the practical conse2uence eitaffirms or refutes them. <ather the point in 2uestion here is a philosophical one, namely, whether humthought is capable of encompassing the real, the deepest truth of the world. That the philosopher, in hsecluded study, who is concerned exclusively with abstract philosophical concepts, which are derived in tufrom abstract scientific concepts also formulated outside of practical life experiences, should have his douin the midst of this world of shadows is easily understood. But for human beings who live and act in the revery day world the 2uestion has no meaning. The truth of thought, says !arx, is nothing other than powand mastery over the real world.

#f course this statement embodies a contradiction4 Thinking cannot be said to be true where the human mdoes not master the world. henever ( as !arx pointed out inCapital ( the products of man6s hand grows beyond his intellectual power, which he no longer controls and which confronts him in the form commodity production and capital as an independent social entity, mastering man and even threateningdestroy him, then his mental activity submits to the mysticism of a supernatural being and he begins to dohis ability to distinguish truth from falsehood. Thus, in the course of many centuries the myth of supernatdeity overshadowed the daily materialistic experiences of man. 'ot until society has evolved to a poinwhere man will be able to comprehend all social forces and will have learned to master his environmennot until a communist society prevails, in short ( will his ideas be in full accord with the realities of tworld. #nly after the nature of social production as a fundamental basis of all life and therefore of futudevelopment has become clear to man, only when the mind ( be it only theoretically at first ( actualmasters the world, only then will our thinking be fully correct. 1nd only then will materialism, the sciencesociety as formulated by !arx, gain permanent mastery and become the only applicable philosophy. Th!arxian theory of society in principle means the renewal of philosophy.

!arx, however, was not concerned with pure philosophy. &?hilosophers have only interpreted the worldifferently, but the point is to change it,) he says in the theses on 3euerbach. The world situation pressed practical action. 1t first inspired by the bourgeois opposition to feudal absolutism, later strengthened by new forces that emanated from the struggle of the English and 3rench proletariat against the bourgeois

!arx and Engels, thanks to their careful study of social realities, arrived at the conclusion that th proletarian revolution following on the heels of the bourgeois revolution would bring the real liberationhumanity. Their activity was devoted to this revolution, and in theCommunist :anifesto they laid down thefirst directions for the workers6 class struggle.

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!arxism has since been inseparably connected with the class struggle of the proletariat. If we ask wha!arxism is, we must first of all understand that it does not mean everything !arx ever thought and wroteThe views of his earlier years, for instance, are representative only in part they are developmental phasleading toward !arxism. hile the role of the proletarian class struggle and the aim of communism isalready outlined in theCommunist :anifesto , the theory of surplus value is developed much later. 1ll of!arx6s developing ideas are determined by the social relation, the character of the revolution, the part play by the state. 1nd all these ideas had a different content in 0C=C when the proletariat had only begundevelop than they had later or have today. #f vital importance, however, are !arx6s original scientificontributions. There is first of all the theory of historical materialism, according to which the developmen

society is determined by its productive forces that make for a certain mode of production, especially throuthe productive force of class struggles. There is the theory of the determination of all political aideological phenomena of intellectual life in general by the productive forces and relations. 1nd there is t presentation of capitalism as a historical phenomena, the analysis of its structure by the theory of value asurplus value, and the explanation of capitalism6s evolutionary tendencies through the proletarian revolutowards communism. ith these theories !arx has enriched the knowledge of humanity permanently. Theyconstitute the solid fundament of !arxism. 3rom these premises further conclusions can be derived undenew and changed circumstances. Because of this scientific basis !arxism is a new way of looking at the paand the future, at the meaning of life, the world and thought it is a spiritual revolution, a new view of world. 1s a view of life, however, !arxism is real only through the class that adheres to it. The workers whare imbued with this new outlook become aware of themselves as the class of the future, growing in numand strength and consciousness, striving to take production into their own hands and through the revolutto become masters of their own fate. Thus !arxism as the theory of the proletarian revolution is a realitand at the same time a living power, only in the minds and hearts of the revolutionary proletariat.

Fet !arxism is not an inflexible doctrine or a sterile dogma. /ociety changes, the proletariat grows, sciencdevelops. 'ew forms and phenomena arise in capitalism, in politics, in science, which !arx and Engelscould not have foreseen or surmised. But the method of research which they formed remains to this dayexcellent guide and tool towards the understanding and interpretation of new events. The proletarienormously increased under capitalism, today stands only at the threshold of its revolution and !arxidevelopment !arxism only now begins to play its role as a living power in the proletariat. Thus !arxismitself is a living theory which grows with the increase of the proletariat and with the tasks and aims of class struggle.

Notes0. This formula did not prove ( as Engels believed ( the validity of materialism as against 8ant6s &Thing iitself.) The &Thing in itself) results from the incapacity of bourgeois philosophy to explain the earthly oriof moral law. The &Thing in itself) has thus not been contradicted and proven false by the chemical indus but by historical materialism. It was the latter that enabled Engels to see the fallacy in the &Thing in itselfalthough he offered other arguments.


$nthropogenesis 9$ St&d( of the +rigin of Man

Source 4 $ontroversies4 3orum for the Internationalist $ommunist HeftFirst Published 4 Anthropogenesis A !tud$ f The rigin f :an By 1nt. ?annekoek /c. . ?rofessor"niversity of 1msterdam 0>@9 'orth-5olland ?ublishing $ompany 1msterdam

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1 fundamental difficulty is also that it is modern man who is compared with the animal we use ourselvesthe direct and best known ob ect of comparison. This derives from the initial thought that man as such hnot changed basically, and that man of the 0>th or 7 th century with all his habits, ways of thinking, acharacteristics may be counted as the normal, natural human being. $onse2uently, for purposes comparison, modern man, with his highly developed individualism is placed in comparison beside tanimal, whereas original man was entirely a community being. 3urther for preference the scholar himseltaken for this purpose, who is an intellectual specialised in mental work, and chiefly concerned wabstractions, whereas man has always been first and foremost a practical being, working with his body ahis hands. In this way the problem must inevitably present itself in a distorted form. hat matters is not th

origin of modern man the development from primitive to modern man, however much of it still awaresearch, is generally known as a gradual, natural and comprehensible evolution without any enigmati breaks. The riddle is the origin of primitive man the real problem is to understand the transition from anito primitive man.

7 The problem of anthropogenesis has gone through various aspects. #riginally the difference between mand animal was considered to be so fundamental, that each was counted as belonging to an entirely differworld, without any relationship. This found its expression in the doctrine of the separate creation of mgifted with reason and possessed of an immortal soul. 1s biology developed, the bodily similarity of mand animal became more apparent, and Hinnaeus classified man in the animal kingdom as a normal spec

Homo sapiens , belonging to the class of mammals and, with the apes, forming the order of ?rimatesarwin6s theory of man6s descent from animal ancestors brought about a complete break with the traditiodoctrine. 1 great number of biological studies since then have proved the essential similarity of man aanimal as well as refuted any fundamental difference. This was most difficult in the field of mental powe but in this respect too it has repeatedly been pointed out in arwinistic publications that the animal alsthinks and shows intelligence that between the mind of animal and man there are no essential differences only differences of degree, and that it is but a 2uestion of more or less.

Thus the problem of the origin of man disappeared, not so much as if it were solved but rather stripped ofcharacter as a special problem, the case not differing from the origin of any animal species from anothThus, however, the balance had swung too far the other way. There are essential and profound differencwhich are not so absolute that they form an unbridgeable cleft separating two worlds, but are so large andfundamental that one may speak of a difference of 2uality. \uantitative differences, if only they becomlarge enough, grow into differences of 2uality. 1n analogon, a trace, a beginning of every specifically humcharacteristic is present in the animal world ( by which it is rendered possible that by a natural developmman could descend from the animal. 5owever these traces had to grow into something entirely new adifferent, and this stamps anthropogenesis as a special scientific problem.

7 There are thee main characteristics which differentiate between man and animal. 3irstly, there is abstrthinking. 1lthough animals do show a certain measure of intelligence, and though mental processes do ta place with them which have their seat in highly developed brains, the capacity for abstract thought is ofound in man. This is the thinking in concepts which has elevated him to so high a level of theoretic

knowledge and science. /econdly there is speech, there is the use of language. 1lthough animals do producsounds intended for mutual information, with man alone these sounds have significance as names, and thare the basis of a high spiritual culture. Thirdly there is the use of tools made by himself. Even thouanimals do make use of dead things from their natural surroundings as aids to their own support, with mthis has become an habitual use of implements specially made for a purpose and according to a preconceiv plan. These implements are the basis of an ever growing techni2ue, and therefore of our entire matercivili%ation. #ne would add as a fourth characteristic, from 1ristotle6s designation of man as a #o n

politikon , that man lives in social connection. 5owever important this characteristic may be, it does nodifferentiate man from all animals. !any other animal species live in groups, they form communities, anthe characteristic has been inherited by man from the animal world. /imilarly it is not permissible to cite trapid evolution of man in contradistinction to the constancy of other species as a difference this is not

much a characteristic itself but rather a 2uality of each of the aforementioned characteristics.%%. Tools

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D7 3ranklin called man a tool-making animal. Tool-using would have expressed the same if he wishes to uthem, he has to make them himself, as they are not offered from elsewhere. 5owever as a distinguishincharacteristic with respect to the animals the making has to be emphasised, since natural ob ects are alused by animals. Thus branches and fibres are used for nest building, beavers use trees they have gnaweand it is said that apes sometimes use sticks and stones. #n the other hand the making of the tool signifie preconceived, planned, appropriate change of natural ob ects, based on the previous knowledge of the effe

The tool is taken in the hand and thus made into an appropriate aid in the struggle for life. $ombined wthe hand it has become a complete unit, a bodily organ, an active power. The hand, together with the too

grasps, performs the same function which with the animal is performed by the bodily organs,%i#7 it executessuch acts as are necessary towards life.rganon means tool organs are the animals6 tools, attached to their bodies tools are man6s organs, separated from his body. Instead of the manifold organs of the animals, eappropriate to its own separate function, the human hand acts as a universal organ by grasping tools, whvary, for different functions, the combination hand-tool replaces the various animal organs. The presencesuch a grasping organ, therefore, has been essential towards the originating of man. This was an inheritanfrom the ape-like, tree-inhabiting ancestors who needed strong and at the same time sensitive graspiorgans for climbing and moving amongst branches. That is why a tool-using being, such as man, could odescend from ape-like forms. 1dmittedly, in 2uite another order of mammals, the elephant6s trunk does as a grasping organ, suitable to manifold purposes but it cannot compete with the ape6s hand for delicacystructure and powers.

E7 3rom the ape6s hand the human hand has evolved to a higher level of perfection, necessary for tuniversal purpose of handling tools. 'owhere has this perfection of the human hand been described in mostriking and enthusiastic words than in $harles Bell6s workFThe Hand- its mechanism and %ital endo,mentsas e%incing design , published in 0C9 . This book was one of the so-called Bridge,ater Treatises , a series published with the aim to show the greatness of the $reator in the perfection of 5is creatures. hat matteredhere, therefore, was to show the perfection of the hand6s structure. 3irst the possibilities of movement described, defined by the structure of the bones and oints of arm and wrist, always explained by compariswith animal anatomy. Then the power is considered which, at the end of a long, flexible lever, communicated to the hand by the muscles of chest and back. The position of the thumb, itself supported bstrong muscle, with regard to the fingers causes the firm grip which even from the first weeks of existenccapable of carrying the weight of the body, a 2uestion of life and death to tree-dwellers. Then there is twealth of more than fifty muscles in the arm and the hand which have to co-operate in the simplemovement, and which in contracting and relaxing are kept under control by the will with extreme precisi1t the same time the smaller minor muscles in the hand and fingers render possible an extremely delicateand 2uickly differentiated movement of the fingers.F IJ The$ are the organs ,hich gi%e the hand the

po,er of spinning- ,ea%ing- engra%ing5 and as the$ produce the @uick motions of the musician4s fingers-the$ are called b$ the anatomists fidicinalesF *p. 0=0+ *i7e7 music-makers+.

To this must be added the delicate sense of touch for which the fingers, and even more the fingertips ha been especially built. These latter are small elastic cushions, supported by shield-like, flat nails and provi

with ribs built in the shape of spirals in which, under the epidermis, innumerable finely branched nerve ealmost reach the surface. This sense of touch is an important faculty of the human hand.FWe find e%er$organ of sense- ,ith the e6ception of that of touch- more perfect in brutes than in man7 IJ But in the senseof touch- seated in the hand- man claims the superiorit$ *p. 0C@+.

This higher perfection in capacity of movement as well as in sense of touch, of the human hand as compawith that of the ape is harmonised by a greater development and differentiation of the nerves concernFThe differentiation of the cellgroups inner%ating the fingers- is speciall$ striking in man- e%en incomparison to the anthropoids *1ri]ns 8appers, p. 0 +.

The sense of touch is, first of all, a means towards the ac2uisition of knowledge, through investigation of

environment. But it extends further,FBichat sa$s that touch is acti%e- ,hilst the other senses are passi%e7IJ We shall arri%e at the truth b$ considering that in the use of the hand- there is a double sense e6ercised7 +n touch- ,e must not onl$ feel the contact of the ob*ect5 but ,e must be sensible to the muscular effort,hich is made to reach it- or to grasp it in the fingers7 +t is in the e6ercise of this latter po,er that there is

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reall$ an$ effort made * Bell , p. 0C@-0CD+. Indeed, the active muscular feeling is coupled with the passfeeling of touch in the taking and grasping of things. The organs intended for the passive observation nature, the senses, have to be sensitive, soft, and impressionable, in order to register the smalletransmission of energy the organs intended for action on nature, such as teeth, and claws, have to be hasolid, capable of resistance, in order to transmit great energy the hand with the tool possesses bocharacteristics at the same time. Bell does not mention the purpose of this grasping, as techni2ue, t practical life of manual labour is outside his orbit and his interest. Fet it is clear that what is grasped is tool. The holding, steering, and manipulating of tools is the purpose of the hand, and a refined sense of touis necessary for their being correctly held, directed, and steered. The muscular feeling and effort are n

concerned with the indifferent grasping of ust anything, but with the working with tools. In the struggle life, consisting in the finding of food and resisting of enemies, the handling of tools is a necessity.

K7 The use of tools, apart from the hand being available as a grasping organ, is yet further conditioned, in first place by a certain amount of mental development enabling man to foresee the action of his tool. animal is not capable of thatF IJ e%en e6treme emergenc$ ne%er makes it in%enti%e *Geiger , p. D0+. Evenin the worst peril, or when it is starving, the animal does not achieve the use of an available tool or weapsimply because it lacks the power to visualise what it might do with it. Even more does this apply to making of tools, for which visualisation is re2uired of a future use of something not yet existing,i7e7conscious thought.

The use, and to an even greater degree the development of tools, is only possible in a community. The skof handling and constructing tools is not congenital, but has to be ac2uired by the younger generation frthe older. ith isolated individuals every ac2uired skill would be lost with their death. 1 social communityis, so to speak, immortal4 while the older members die off the younger ones are growing up in it. Tknowledge of the use and manufacture of tools in such groups is collective knowledge and a communriches. The younger generation grows up in this knowledge because of the common practice of life, and einvention, each improvement is preserved and transmitted. This social life, an essential condition of tdevelopment of tools and, therefore, of anthropogenesis, is also an inheritance transmitted from the ancestin the animal kingdom.

'7 The tool, grasped and guided by the hand, has with man the same function as the bodily organ wianimals, but it performs it in a better manner. The superiority of the human tool as compared with the animorgan lies in the first place in its replaceability. It is a dead thing, and separate from the body. hen it halost its usefulness or has broken it is thrown away. The bodily organ, on the other hand, cannot be replacso that a broken leg usually dooms the wild animal. Indeed, it is not even necessary for the tool to becouseless it may be discarded as obsolete when one more suitable for a given ob has been made.

"se of the same tool for various purposes causes its differentiation. Thus the original sharp stone whiserved all purposes grew into an ever increasing number of sharp stones such as the drill, the arrowhead, knife, scratcher, saw, or axe, each the most suitable to its use. This process of increasing differentiaticontinues into the later stages of technical development and, manifest in every craft and industry, becom

the driving force in the great technical development of humanity.!an, therefore, has not one tool available, but many. Every time he takes another tool in his hand the han becomes a different organ. !an is an animal with interchangeable organs. 1ccording to the need of themoment, to the prey he seeks, to the enemy he faces, to the alm he wishes to achieve he takes a differtool. The animal, by its given special organs, is confined to one mode of life to which it is excellenadapted. !an adapts himself to various modes of life by changing his tools by availing himself of different organ he e2uals another animal. 5e can burrow like a mole, saw trees like a beaver, crush hard nulike a s2uirrel, repel, like a buffalo, a beast of prey, and, as a beast of prey himself, kill and tear up hvictim. hereas every animal is limited to its own habitat, man is adapted to the most varying conditions olife4 in the woods he takes the axe, and in the plains the spade. Thus was he able to spread over the wh

earth.The greatest superiority of the human tool over the animal organ lies in its perfectibility. 3or countlegenerations the animal has ever had to be content with the same organs, beautifully adapted to i

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environment. !an, however, outgrows such excellence, by constantly improving his organs,i7e7 perfectingthe tools. "se and application are conducive to constantly improved adaptation the improved toimmediately replaces the obsolete one which is discarded, and itself becomes the starting-point of nimprovements. Thus in the use of implements a continuous and cumulative development takes place, at fslow, then faster and faster. <oughly hewn stones replace unfashioned ones then the transition is made delicately worked stones used probably in con unction with softer animal and vegetable material which not been preserved, until at last metal was found to be the strongest and most plastic material. ith thestools man was able to secure his dominion of nature and his mastery over the earth is achieved, through emore perfected soil, building houses and stables, hunting or taming animals, by husbandry and catt

breeding he transforms the wild environment of nature to a safe environment of culture, and a solid basisexistence. 3urther, through the many crafts which are employed in making the most diverse ob ects of dause by means of a great many different tools, an over more complete mastery over the earth is achievthrough ever more perfected techni2ues.

Bell sang a hymn of praise to the human hand, asFthe consummation of all perfection as an instrument *p.7=>+. hen enumerating the details of itsFsuperiorit$ he limits himself to a few examples of the hand6scapacity, such asFthe pro%isions for holding- pulling- spinning- ,ea%ing- and constructing5 properties ,hichma$ he found in other animals- but are combined in this more perfect instrument *p. 7=>+. If, owing toscholars specialising in mental and scientific effort, practical work with tools and the manual labour of millions producing goods had not been entirely outside his orbit, and if conse2uently the hand6s destinatto hold and direct tools had been clear to him, how much deeper a note of world power his hymn of prawould have ac2uired and how it would have become a saga of mankind6s growth to world dominion;

(7 Hife and the progress of mankind always depended on the tool6s development. eapons too belong to thtools. 3rom the beginning tool and weapon were identical in fighting beasts of prey and catching game tcharacter of arms dominated. Hater they became increasingly differentiated, though even to-day the knstill bears the double character. /oon the artificial organs, in this form as weapons, began to play a part men6s mutual fight. In this way, world history became a history of wars endless streams of blood haaccompanied mankind6s evolution. This was the firstFprogress of man compared with the animal.hereas with nearly all species of animal the struggle for life amongst their kind is no more than a

competition as to which will survive in their opposition to the hostile forces of the surrounding world, wman this match has become a real fight, increasing to a battle of annihilation against his fellow man. ireextermination of his kind as a mass form of the struggle for life only occurs with man. This is also a resulthe use of tools, because provided with different, better weapons, he may count as a different species wsuperior organs. It means that in the evolution of mankind an even fiercer form of selection has been actthan in the animal kingdom.

%%%. Thinking

)7 ith the lower animals phenomena and behaviour are observed which imply feeling and sensitiveneswith regard to the influence of environment. $onsidering the higher animals we conclude from their actio

that they have a certain consciousness, as they display behaviour which we consider to be the resultdeliberation and a certain intellectual faculty. 5owever in man alone occurs that form of intelligence whiwe call abstract thinking, thinking by means of conceptions. hat use is thinking:FThe nature of reason isto regard things not as simpl$ e6isting but as necessar$ , /pino%a wrote in his thesis == of the second part ofhis Ethics.FThinking is conscious comparison of ac@uired perceptions- collecting ,hat is similar intoconceptions , thus 5elmholt% *p. 9=0+. In his bookletFHo, ,e think , a manual on pedagogics explaininghow to teach children to think in the right way, ewey says4F9eflection in%ol%es IJ a consecuti%eordering Lof ideasM in such a ,a$ that each determines the ne6t as its proper outcome *p. 7+FThinking IJis defined as that operation in ,hich present facts suggest other facts Lor truthsM in such a ,a$ as to inducebelief in the latter upon the ground or ,arrant of the former *p. C+.F0emand for the solution of a

perple6it$ is the stead$ing and guiding factor in the entire process of reflection *p. 00+. 5ere is spoken ofthe kind of thinking which is concerned with facts of the past and future, and which orientates itself in world by means of the regularity of phenomena. /uch thinking acts as an organ of science and philosophits immediate aim being to find the truth about the world. This, however, is already a more developed staof thinking which, although playing an important part in later centuries, particularly with the,Fthinkers ,

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theorists and scientists, was preceded by the simple thinking of primitive man. Even now for the grma ority of men, and even for all of them for much of their life, thinking has an immediate, practic purpose. It does not put or answer the 2uestion4FWhat is truth2 but the 2uestion4FWhat am + to do2F<erple6it$ is too strong a word for the state of mind produced by these daily recurrent problems. Besidmuch automatic habitual action there is a constant reflection and consideration it does not involve abstru problems or seek forFtruth , but is a comparison of various possibilities of action from which a choice hato be made. This work of thinking forms a constant essential part of the total effort of keeping alive.

If one wishes to compare human and animal intelligence, in order to learn to understand the

interconnection and continuity, one should not take, as the human example, the most recent and highforms of development, involving the theoretical thought of scholarship and philosophy, but rather tsimplest practical thought of the common man of today, and of primitive man. This latter does exhibit sundry characteristics of abstract thought, though as yet confined to the immediate problems of existence 0+.5ere lies the problem of anthropogenesis further development of the initial human mental activity to tmodern level then becomes a series of gradual steps which do not offer any fundamental difficulties.

& 7 ith man as with the animal, mental life starts from the sensation as the most simple element, thesensation being either corporeal, as with hunger and pain, or environmental, as with smell, sight, or heariThese sensations are the stimuli to which the organism reacts by actions in a manner appropriate to life. Tsensations combine into images4 one sees an ob ect, such as a fruit, or moving animal, or he hears somethIn such an image a great number of successive impressions of colour and light, changing according to examining movement of head and eyes, or a number of separate sounds rising in succession out of tsurrounding noise, have been combined. This is possible because every impression, which does not truexist but for one indivisible moment, does not disappear with it but continues to exist and fades ongradually. hat is called, therefore, an image, an observation, or experience, is already an entirecombination of many various impressions covering a certain period.

hen ever a combination of the same kind is repeated the earlier impressions are evoked as memories!emory is the connecting together of earlier and later impressions, a relation tying past with presenexperience. hen certain parts of a complex repeat themselves *e7g7 a sensation of hunger, or impressions ofthe environment+ the other parts of the image, which earlier were connected with it, are called up (accordance with the principle of connection-reflexes *7+ ( so that they are completed and form the entirecomplex *e7g7 food+. It then effects the same appropriate reactions of movement, a certain behaviour, tsearch for, or the taking of food. The increasingly definite stimulation of such behaviour by precedisensations is of the greatest importance in the struggle for life, and is succinctly calledFlearning b$e6perience .

3rom similar observations often repeated and analogous experience complexes, the image created bmemory rises up again and again. /uch images are not exact reproductions they are more vague than thobservations and experiences themselves. They are a kind of average in which that which is common hremained and the differences have been wiped out. In the struggle for life, what is of importance is not t

which happened only once but that which may be expected normally,i7e7 the recurrent common element inoccurrences. This is, therefore, what is grasped by the imagination, what remains in the perception, and wdetermines expectation.

These perceptions which render present what has been in the past, form consciousness. $onsciousnessconscious being *9+, knowledge of being, the most immediate and surest fact of experience. It is said that to our fellow men we conclude from their actions that with them the same kind of consciousness exists asexperience ourselves. In reality the consciousness of our fellow-men and our own are e2ually a matterdirect, instinctive certainty to us, a basic fact, already present before we arrive at such conclusions, andentirely independent of them. ith the higher animals we similarly conclude consciousness from theiappropriate actions and, even more so, from their active attention towards what approaches them

sensations but here there is only partial similarity. e lack, of course, a clear idea of their perceptions antheir consciousness, since we only know our own and have to take this as a model for others. e try toapproach it by assuming that their consciousness is inferior in comprehension as well as in clarity, comparing it with a state of passive dimness of mind in man which remains as a background when clear-

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conscious thought is lacking. It has been remarked that, if we do not know anything about the consciousnof animals with certainty, it is of no conse2uence as it is only their reactions and behaviour which are importance as the only observable psychical phenomena an accompanyingFconsciousness in thisconnection is ust as irrelevant as the light by which we learn the time from the clock is irrelevant to ttime-piece. This may be true, but it omits thatFconsciousness here is the name of a conception withinwhich a great complex of acts of behaviour are appropriately combined. The same, moreover, would appe2ually to man, in whom consciousness as a psychic phenomenon is certainly present.

&&7 hat difference there is between man and animal must appear in the visible psychic phenomena. ith

the higher animals we observe that the sensations are immediately connected with the actions and provothem. The images of observation which blend with the memory of former sensations into a whole perception, are connected directly with the practical reactions, forming a consecutive chain. /uch a chamay be4 sensation of hunger, scent and sight of plants, gra%ing, satiety or in a more complex form w beasts of prey4 scent or sight of prey, following of tracks, stalking, watching, attacking. That is how tmaintain themselves in their natural habitat. The observations and perceptions form the introduction to appropriate action and find their conclusion in it. ith man, however, a separation takes place the chain i broken. ?erception and action are no longer consecutive, mutually supplementary parts of a developicomplex but are apparently independent. Impressions, observations, and images influence him, but no actor reaction follows. ?erceptions are formed but remain unused they are laid up with the store alreadavailable and new ones are repeatedly added and increase it. The actions of man are not immediate reactioto his last impressions they appear to be autonomous creations, spontaneously produced at any momefrom the total store of available perceptions.

This difference has further conse2uences. hen ( in animals ( observation and perception find theirconclusion in the action, their aim has been achieved, and they may disappear into the depths, as materonly for a later memory. If ( with man ( no action follows, the perceptions, unused, are left to themselveThe vision of a fruit is not conducive to the picking of it but the chain of perceptions of picking, eatinsatiety is still formed. The series continues to the end, but this end remains so to speak floating in the without anything on which to fix. In the series of consecutive perceptions each preceding one evokes tsucceeding one, but in the opposite direction each succeeding one evokes its predecessor. The serirebounds, one might say, from its freely floating end and may be run through several times. These serthemselves become sensations and ob ects of observation. It is here that what is called thinking, takes plin a higher degree ( indeed it is called re-flection ( than in the simple presence of perceptions *=+. 5ere perceptions of perceptions appear, which denote a higher degree of consciousness, a knowledge knowledge, self-consciousness. The perception, a product of preceding experience, becomes a perceptiona future occurrence as an unfinished perception it is a foreseeing of later action.

ith man too, life is maintaining oneself as a part of the whole of nature by an interchange of matter anenergy with that whole. ith man too, action in the last resort is, roughly, determined by the sum-total osensations, images, and perceptions thought is an auxiliary to practical action. But there is no longer simple direct way from the impression on the senses to the action in its stead the stored-up perceptions fo

a network of diverging and converging ways, and from this store the inducement to later action is takBetween sensation and action many links are inserted various chains of linked-up perceptions fothemselves spontaneously, each preceding one evoking the next one. In the process of conscious thinkithey are connected into orderly series.

This means that from observation to action thought follows a detour. Hinked up with the observation of fruit are not the perception and the deed of actual eating and satiety, but other, more distantly connect perceptions, such as the change of seasons, a former shortage, the thought of planting and sowing, and prospect of a future new harvest. #r again, with the detection of a bear or wolf, perceptions of othconnected experiences link up, such as the fetching or preparing of a weapon, the lurking in wait, and tsetting of a trap. The detour in thought corresponds to a detour of the action itself. Between the bodily ne

originally felt and the later deed of satisfying oneself, a series of actions inserts itself which only indirecleads to the aim. They are preceded by a series of perceptions which consecutively indicate the way asimagined whole before it is actually taken. In the later development of mankind these detours become wiand wider and more complicated as society becomes more complex.

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!oreover, there is not one detour there are many. 1ccording to the greater wealth of modes of life theaction can take different ways. 3or this it is necessary that each series of possible actions exists beforehaas a series of perceptions it is then possible to compare them and to make a choice. This weighing of the oagainst the other and this choosing of ways comes to the surface of consciousness as free will. Thougac2uires the character of independent activity the perceptions are not allowed any more to link up passivin producing each other each one is called up and held attentively and deliberately fitted to the others, unthe result of each consecutive action can be foreseen and the series has been carefully built up in all its lin

& 7 The process of thinking consists of the interconnection of the perceptions. hat at first was an automati

linking up is now a travelling up and down the series of connections and as such a conscious proceThoughts are not independent entities, notFWesenheiten , but connections and interrelations. They are not a being but a process of movement, of a continuous linking up and connecting.FThinking is d$namical-thought is association * <iOron , p. 7C+. !oreover, as we have already seen, the perceptions between whichthey form the relation, are not simple, static things either each perception is an expansive structure countless connections between a number of dissimilar and non-simultaneous sensations. 1t the simplethought, at the even simpler perception,e7g7 of a fruit, consciousness darts rapidly over the most differentremembered images of an earlier and a later date, visual impressions of colour and form, gustatoimpressions of appetite and satiety, experiences and desires, the one perception activating and provokimany others it umps from one image to another 2uite different one, each framed by and compared wothers it shoots through the whole world of the mind, hither and thither as the images flash up. !any pagwould be needed to describe in detail what darts through the mind with one single thought.

/ensations come flowing into us in a continuous stream. By an automatic process ac2uired through learniand experience some of them are incorporated and organised into the existing store of images, so as to foan ever increasing wealth filling the consciousness. #thers remain unnoticed, sinking away intsubconsciousness, and heaping up in the dark depths, gradually smoothing out and amalgamating. They always present as the basis of one6s personal attitude towards life, determining his instinctive actions ( u perhaps a new strong impression or a practical necessity suddenly calls them up, in the form of spontanedeeds or intuitive udgments, into the daylight of consciousness, and they become conscious perceptionsthe process of thinking the perceptions are arranged, the related elements being assembled and fixed concepts, and their relations and interconnections laid down and expressed in rules.

The separation of perception and action brings about what we call autonomy of thought. 3rom the menstock of collected impressions and perceptions consecutive chains are built up, apparently spontaneousstarting from themselves, without external cause. They are, of course, not without cause there alwayssome impulse or occasion which forms the beginning, but it may be so imperceptible that it is nrecognised. 1ll these chains of thoughts then form a personal spiritual life which is the source from which conscious actions spring.

This separation is also the separation between theory and practice, theory becoming independent of practiTheory is the independent weaving of chains of thoughts into conclusions applicable to practical actions. T

observations are the material, and the theoretical rules form the result. The observations become proof aargument, consciously advanced, of the rule-e7g7 ever again after the cold of winter spring came with itsgrowth of plants and animals. 3rom that the rule was built up as a summary and an expectation4 the seasfollow each other in regular rotation. #bservation and rule together form knowledge and science. The ruexpress what happens normally and what, therefore, may be expected, not being concerned with secondaand momentary occurrences but with their general being. They do not speak of the concrete fact, but of abstract concept4 winter is followed by spring. In any particular practical application, a given caseidentified with the abstraction4 after this winter another spring will come. By applying the rule to eseparate case future action is determined.

& 7 In the abstract conception the general or common factor of a group of phenomena is expressed the m

is the organ of the generality.FThrough thinking things ,e make them into something general *5egel+. Theendless multiplicity of the phenomena we cannot retain the mind selects what is permanent and commonit, holds on to it, and abstracts from what is peculiar and different. hat is common and lasting is essentiafor life it forms itself into a rule and is condensed into a conception. Each succeeding experience recogni

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as similar is inserted into this structure, or is arranged under the existing rule by being acknowledged aspecial case of the conception or rule already known, each is incorporated and classified, so that the weknown conclusions apply directly to it. 3re2uently, too, of course, cases of wrong application occur, whthere is error by supposed but mistaken insertion, leading to an incorrect conclusion and inappropriaction, which in turn lead to a change in the conceptions, and to transformation and improvement of rules,i7e7 to the development of science.

The abstract character of thinking in conceptions which characterises man lies not so much in thgenerality but chiefly in their independence. The former does, in a sense, hold for the animals too, but

the latter. 1s with man, so with animals images of memory or perceptions exist as the common factor previous experience, and, similarly, not in the form of precise details of each case, but rather as a smoothaverage. In the animal, however, the progression remains an unseparated whole from impression to actioand is not dissolved into its elements. In human thinking these elements ac2uire independence owing to th being sharply determined as conceptions. 1s a conception the image is defined, separated from others, amaintained as an independent entity. Thus they are all separately manageable, and as separate links may arranged, through short causal relations, into series of thoughts in various ways, until in forethought the meffective structure has been obtained.

The animal, too, in its behaviour often follows the indirect way. e speak of cunning with some beasts o prey but here the detour, involving stealing, hiding, spying, has become a fixed habit, imprinted by struggle for life. The animal also can make a certain choice, with regard to the moment and the placeattack. But this choice is limited within narrow margins owing to the limitation of the bodily organs, whimpose certain habits of life. These special characteristics of human mental life are, therefore, also presensmall traces in the animal. !an, again, has not got them in an unlimited degree, and he too is tied in hichoice to the technical possibilities. These, however, owing to their continual development, create more amore varied forms of living, with the fulfilment of ever wider possibilities of life, which render possibleever richer multiplicity of causal relations. Thus the spiritual world of conceptions grows. In the abstrconception as a substantial mental element lies the most special characteristic which distinguishes humthinking from that of the animal.

%'. 0rains

&D7 1mong the special characteristics distinguishing man from the animal the brains have not beementioned. This may seem strange as man6s superiority above the animal has to be attributed to his brThe brains are the organ of the intellect, of the mind, and it is this which as the real basis, as the final facdetermines man as the crown of creation, and master of the earth. The apparent contradiction is due to fact that the difference between the brains of the higher animals and those of man appears as a 2uantitatone only, and that we cannot indicate a manifest 2ualitative difference

The 2uantitative difference consists in the much higher weight of the human brain *at an average of 090= grammes+ as compared with that of the most highly developed animals, the anthropoids *= -@

grammes+. #f course the mere weight of the brain cannot provide a sound criterion for the mental levelthis also depends on the bodysi%e. ubois has shown that with closely related animals of different si%e brain-weight changes in proportion to the @V>th power of the body-weight, almost as the body-surfaceliminating in this way the influence of the body-weight and by reducing all animals to the same bodweight, a factor known as the degree ofFcephalisation remains, which can serve as a measure for the levelof development of the brains. Thus ubois found that, when comparing different animal species, the degreof cephalisation for related species always differs by the factor 7. 5e could explain it by assuming that wthe development of a lower animal into a higher a mutation takes place in which all braincells split in twand thus double their number. <educed to a body-weight of 0 kilogrammes the brain-weight foanthropoids would be =@ , whilst that for man would be 0D@ , which is nearly four times as much.

It has been possible subse2uently to show from a greater mass of data *<. Brummelkamp, Brain,eight and Bod$si#e+ that the real rate of increase is not 7 but 7 Mroot of 7N, so that two small leaps take the plaubois6 one leap. In order to explain this a more complicated se2uence of processes has to be assumeGenerally speaking, what has been observed of the mental life of animals agrees rather well with t

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cephalisation found, so that the further one descends in the orders of the mammals, the lower tcephalisation *lungoor 9 D, lemur 0C9, wolf and fox 7= , cat and lion 7 , panther =7@, bear 97 , elepha9 , horse and ass 7 , hippopotamus 07 , hare and rabbit 00 , mouse and rat @ , mole = , anteater 0 ,armadillo @9, all these figures representing grammes reduced to a bodyweight of 0 kilogrammes+. Bthere are also strange values amongst them4 seal D9 , sealion C , dolphin 0 , which would place suchanimals well above the anthropoids ( a thing one would not, notwithstanding their cunning, deduce frotheir behaviour. 1lthough no satisfactory explanation of this has as yet been given, we may yet say that tcephalisation theory for the first time allows us to express in precise figures the superiority of the hum brains as compared with those of the animals.

&E7 The structure of the brain, of course, is likely to show this too. In very low classes of animals, nerveceare already present, and these, owing to their remarkable length, serve to conduct the stimuli 2uickly frthe one part of the body to the other, where the appropriate movement of reaction has to be carried out. ithigher classes of animals centres are formed to which the stimuli received by the various sensory nerves carried and where they are collected so that the movement necessitated by the collective result is despatchthence to the organs of movement by the motor nerves. ith the vertebrates the brain forms the centraorgan serving this purpose. 5ere on top of the older, primitive systems new ones have been built so thatstructure has come into being, so to speak, in storeys, *une organisator P Otages , ?i^ron, p. C+. The nervecentres ofFthe brain- spinal chord- and s$mpathetic ganglia scattered throughout the bod$ are arranged in4le%els4 or hierarchies- each higher le%el controlling those belo, it * =udson Herrick , 7=, p. 00>+. Thelowest stage with the mammals and, therefore, with man too, is formed by the autonomous nervous systemdelicate network permeating all the interval organs, blood vessels, muscles, tissues and glands, controlland regulating their activity, without any of it coming to the surface of consciousness. Through the nerv bundles of the spinal cord it is connected to the brains, the central organ which keeps all life proces balanced in harmonieus co-operation, receiving all outside stimuli from the senses, and setting the muscin motion. Their oldest part, the oblongata and thalamus *brainstem+, the cerebellum and olfactory cenwhilst forming the chief mass in the lowest vertebrates, the fishes and amphibians, comprise with tmammals less than half. This story is considered firstly to be the seat of the simplest sensations, such pleasure and grief, pain and emotion, and secondly to perform the delicate regulation, the keeping in goorder of the bodily functions, and the balancing in every movement, all usually being outside consciousne

/uperior to these are the new brains which cover the former, like a mantle *pallium+. These are bareexistent with fishes, and are small with reptiles, becoming increasingly developed in the series of mammand with man forming the main part of the brains. They consist of a white nucleus surrounded by a grcortex. ith man this cortex consists of a grey layer of intertwined single nerve cells, which has an averagthickness of = mm * .0D in+ with a total surface of about 00 cm_` Ms2. cmN *0D> s2. in+ and is foldeda great many folds in the small space within the skull *internal surface about cm_` Ms2. cmN or 00 sin+ like a piece of paper crumpled up in one6s fist. The thickness of the cortex in the series of mammanot systematically different and the surface increases e2ually with the cephalisation. /o with man it is fotimes as large as with an anthropoid of the same si%e the external surface shows a much greater numbefolds and much deeper ones, so that the external appearance gives the impression of a more complicated ahence, higher organisation. ithin lies the white brain mass, the marrow-coverings of countless nerve fibrewhich are thus separated from each other like insulated wires, and which connect the various parts of tcortex with each other and with the lower centres, the thalamus and the cerebellum. The cortex is tsupreme organ which in the last resort dominates all the lower ones here, via the lower centres, the stimof the senses converge, and are combined and integrated ( as far as the lower centres have not already beable sufficiently to cope with them ( and the result is conducted through the motor nerves to the organs motion. The cortex is the organ of the deliberate body movements, that is to say, of conscious acting. Th processes in the cortex are mostly accompanied by consciousness they form the material backgroundmental life.

The structure in storeys appears to be the result of an evolutionary process in the animal world. T

primitive mechanisms at higher stages of development have not been substituted by better ones they remin use, but on the top of them the more complicated mechanisms are formed as higher resorts, dealing wthe more complicated cases of a richer life, which are beyond the control of the original ones. hile thexternal influences reach the cortex via the lower centres and the motor impulses travel via the same path

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the opposite direction, the central regulation of all actions in life rests on a co-operation in which the corchooses and decides on the execution or arresting of any action.FThe thalamus supplies the emotionalcolouring- the agreeable or disagreeable @ualit$- and the simple impulsi%e dri%es5 the corte6 supplies theintelligent guidance and rational control * =udson Herrick , 7=, p. 00C+.

The cortex consists of a dense network of about > million nerve-cells *neurons+. 3rom each nerve-ceemerge firstly a number of nerve-threads *dendrites+, which at their ends branch out like trees and recand conduct the stimuli, and secondly a single, sometimes very long, efferent nerve-thread *neurite or axsimilarly split up at the end into fine branches, which abduces the stimuli and nestles against another c

*nerve-dendrite, muscle- or organ-cell+. Thus external stimuli *e7g7 light falling on a nerve end in the retina,or touch affecting a nerve in the finger-tip+ are conveyed to the successive nerve cells which collect thecombine and conduct their action, until via more or fewer intermediate stations they reach the cortex. Tsame obtains conversely, from the cerebral cortex to the muscles. #riginally, there was within the cortexlayer of small nerve-cells *so-called granular cells+ below an outer layer of nerve-fibres coming frelsewhere. These granular, or sensorial, cells receive the stimulus and pass it on via short axons to the nlayer. This deeper layer of the cortex consists of larger nerve-cells *so-called pyramid cells+, the motor cconveying the motor-stimulus via axons, often very long, to the more deeply situated centres, and in tmanner to the muscles. hen fully developed, in human brains, there are usually two, and sometimes morof these alternative layers instead of these simple up and down connections they form an innumerable mof cross-connections linking together all parts of the cortex. The number of possible connections betwe> million cells is so immensely large and totally beyond the powers of our imagination, that it can bregarded as being practically infinite. 1 single two by two connection already results in trillions possibilities. Thus the total amount of possible connections can offer an ade2uate directive mechanism the most complicated relations of life and a sufficient material basis for the most abundant and varispiritual life.FThe kno,n comple6it$ of the brain- and especiall$ of the cerebral corte6- is ade@uate for an$theoretic e6planation of cerebral function ,hatsoe%er7 There is no dearth of mechanism . * =udson Herrick ,79, p. 70+.

&K7 The investigation of the whole structure of connections, and the labourious determining of the functioof each of the parts, in their relation to sensations, consciousness and thought, the sub ect of neurology,the discovery and disclosure of a new and wellnigh unlimited world. Thereby it appeared that certain arof the cerebral cortex performed specific functions. The impressions of light on the eyes are conducted the optic nerves to the optic thalamus, and thence to the occipital lobes of the cortex, the organ of visu perception. The lobes lying against the left and right temples constitute the organ of hearing. 1bove themthe side lobes between forehead and occiput, are the centres for the stimuli emanating from the whole bothe skin and muscles, for general bodily sensation separate detailed sensory areas for the separate limbsituated side by side can be distinguished here. In front of these and against the frontal lobes the mocentres are situated these consist of large pyramid cells of which the stimuli control the motion of tvarious parts of the body.

'ow and again one encounters the opinion, and especially in popular writings, that the specification go

still deeper, down to cell-groups and separate cells, and that these are the carriers of images, perceptions aconceptions. Thus <ohracher *p. D + states thatFthere seem to be special memor$ cells , and he speaks of aFreading centre *p. DD+ in which in the case of civilised persons the letters are fixed. 5owever, he is 2uite certain as to the conse2uences4 are there cells particularly intended for combinations of conceptiosuch as the 2uantum theory or housekeeping-money: Harger parts than simple cell-groups may be hadview by . 5anna Thomson where he writes4F IJ in a small patch of gra$ matter not larger than a ha#elnut IJ is stored e%er$ ,ord that can be spoken *p. >=+, and further on4FWe think in ,ords- and for that

purpose ,e register our ,ord memories in their labouriousl$ prepared brain places *p. 0> +. In anothersentence, however, he comparesFthose speech areas to the shel%es of a librar$ ,ith ,ords arrangedthereon like so man$ %olumes *p. >D+. $onversely, ?i^ron states thatFit is a childish idea to imagine thatthe ner%es constitute a ,arehouse in ,hich little pictures- photographic images of e%ents ,hich ha%e

effected the sensation- can be stored *l7c7, p. 7=0+. In actual fact the brain cells in the various-cortex-areasare identical, composed of the same protoplasmic structure with similar nuclei. Their different functions determined by their different connections. !ental processes are not distinguished in being borne b particular cells, but in having particular connections. In the same way that ideas are not entities but relatio

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the material substratum of thought is not the biological and chemical contents of the brain cells, but structure of their relations,i7e7 their connections. #ne may draw the analogy of a railway traffic apparatusthe essence of which does not consist of the structure of wellnigh similar stations, but of the structure of network of rail connections, and can be recognised by it. There are no special cells or groups of cells in occipital lobe, in which the correlatie of certain letters has been fixed. The visual image of one single lestimulates many hundreds of thousands of the more than a hundred million cones and rods of the retiEach of these undergoes changes of light, darkness, and colour during the rapid and involuntary movemeof the eyeball and the head, and cause an unlimited whole of nerve-cells and nerve-fibres of the inward aoutward tracks to come into action. The correlation of all these processes, determined by the structure of

connections, is pro ected outwards as the visual image recognised as such.&'7 The conveying of the stimulus from one nerve-cell to another takes place in such a way that these ceare charged, as it were, or are under tension, and then are discharged, the tension being released, by tstimulus at the sensitive surface, whereby the potential energy *obtained from the chemical energy of fois released and becomes available for conveying the message to the next nerve cell. Thus the nervoemotion progresses as a current.FThe signal is a brief local depolarisation of the electricall$ polarised

surface3la$er of the ner%e3thread- and the signal in%ol%es freeing of energ$ and de%elopment of a temporar$electrical leak ,hich ,ill tra%el along the fibre or o%er the ner%e net7 B$ repolarisation in the ,ake of the

signal the transmitting surface is repaired and made read$ for a second signal IJ7 These *unctional pointsare often con%ergence points for se%eral lines from se%eral directions7 Arri%ed there signals con%ergent from

se%eral lines ma$ coalesce and ma$ reinforce each other4s e6citing po,er7 At such points too appears a process ,hich- instead of e6citing- @uells and precludes e6citation7 This inhibition- like its opposite process-e6citation- does not tra%el7 +t is e%oked- ho,e%er- b$ tra%elling signals not distinguishable from those ,hichcall forth e6citement IJ7 These t,o opposed processes- e6citation and inhibition- co3operate at nodal pointafter nodal point in the ner%e circuits7 Their *oint operation at an$ moment settles ,hat ,ill be theconduction pattern- and so the motor outcome- of the signalling going for,ard in the brain7 *!herrington , p. 00-09+.

The transmission of the nervous current often works as a relay, whereby a very feeble electric current opthe track for a stronger current. Each consecutive step in the connected track increases the available enerTherefore the cerebral cortex does not only act as a switchboard with millions of fuses, but also is amplifying apparatus through which almost imperceptible energy impulses coming from outside or frwithin the body are increased to great effects.FThe ,hole cortical apparatus is ,ound up and set on atrigger so that its latent reser%es of motor po,er and memor$ patterns ma$ be released b$ the slightestimpulse set in motion b$ some e6ternal e%ent or some change in the interior of the bod$7 * =udson Herrick ,7=, p. 077+. 5errick 2uotes the example of a man on a ship. hen this man sees a faint spot of light in thdistance *effecting perhaps only a millionth of an erg on to the retina+ the whole of his brain apparatus cointo action and thereby the muscle apparatus of his body is set in efficient motion. This can even cause tgreat engines of the ship to function.

uring each small fraction of a second the loading and unloading continually flashes through th

innumerable nerve fibres, and the currents from the nervous reactions pass through the conduction tracnow halted, then amplified, flowing together or spreading out. It has previously been pointed out that extent of the simplest thought would re2uire many pages to be described. It can be added now that each lof this description signifies an immense 2uantity of brain processes and of specifically determined stimcurrents flowing via tracks consisting of millions of neurons. /o the connection of mental life and braisurely cannot be described by way of these processes, but should be sought in the correlation between tstructure of perceptions, conceptions and ideas, and the structure of the network of the nerve connectio$onsciousness itself of course cannot be deduced from the structure and the processes of the brains.

The brains however do more. The impressions and the stimuli are not only transmitted and amplified, but also collected and stored. The brains are the archives of the entire life-history of the individual, fixing

past experiences in structural formations.FThis organ is a mar%ellous registration apparatus7 ften a single stimulus is sufficient to produce a lasting impression *G7 Bohn, p. 97C+. /urely man must manage with thenine milliard neurons with which he was born, as no new neurons are ever added. Those which he hhowever, develop in a greater or lesser degree throughout his life.FThe e6tension- the gro,th and the

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multiplication of the appendices of the neurons- for that matter- do not stop at birth- but continue after birthIJ7 ?6ercise no doubt is not foreign to these modifications- ,hich probabl$ ,ith cultured man are moremarked in certain spheres7 The absence of e6ercise- on the contrar$- must bring about- during the period of

gro,th and e%en at an adult age- in the inacti%e spheres of an educated person as ,ell as in the brain ofuneducated man these phenomena of resorption IJ ,hich here betra$ themsel%es b$ forgetfulness7* 9amon $ Ca*al , p. 0CC+ *@+. $ertain connections developed in correlation with habits of life in conse2uencof a more intensive use a larger 2uantity of branchings and a greater wealth of connections correspond tgreater plasticity in behaviour.FThe ne,l$ created cellular e6pansions do not proceed b$ chance5 the$ mustorientate themsel%es according to the dominating ner%e currents- or again in the direction of the

intercellular association- ,hich is the ob*ect of the reiterated re@uests of the ,ill *ib7, p. 0C>+. The nerve-cells themselves also migrate in the direction towards the stimuli entering them * AriQns ;appers , onneurobiotaxis, passim+. 1lthough not all the details are known of the mechanism causing new connection be made and existing ones to be facilitated or strengthened, it is a fact that it does take place. This then is basis for learning, for the constant ac2uiring of fresh knowledge, and also for the spontaneous memo processes, for the later reproduction of the images, and for the formation of conceptions. /ince the brains a plastic organ in which the billions of possible connections and intertwinings of nerve fibres are selecteffected, established and determined by the influences of life, all experiences gained in life can be fixtherein, and thus conduct further on the reactions and determine behaviour. The higher degree cephalisation of the higher mammals, compared with that of the lower ones, signifies a greater wealthintercortical connections, and therefore more possibilities of reacting differently with regard to the mcomplicated conditions of life, as well as a greater capacity for learning, in short a greater intelligence.

&(7 /imilarly the cerebral cortex functions with man. 5ere, however, when compared with the most highldeveloped animals, a 2ualitative difference of consciousness becomes apparent, in the form of the autonoof abstract reasoning, which as the supreme instance controls the mental processes, and thereby the bodactions. Is there also an organ in the brains corresponding to it, controlling the working of the rest of tcortex in the same manner:

3rom the earliest times it has been assumed, that the seat of human intelligence was in the forehead. 1 hiforehead was taken to be a sign of a high spiritual level the more sloping forehead of the lower and leintelligent races was accepted as an indication of an inferior development of the frontal brains, and tdifference is still more pronounced in apes. This opinion is expressed in a more scientific form by leadineurologists. Thus Bianchi states4F+ hold that abstract thought must of necessit$ re@uire particular organsand those + find in the frontal brain7 *p. +. 1nd further on4FThe associati%e paths that unite the sensor$corte6 ,ith the frontal lobes ha%e a t,ofold officeR first- that of informing the higher consciousness of themodifications of the kinaesthesis and of all the ne, percepts ac@uired b$ the personalit$ b$ means of the

sensor$ centres5 second- that of permitting the higher consciousness to select and recall those imagesregistered in the sensor$ corte6 that- in the %icissitudes of mental and ph$sical life- are reputed necessar$

for the purposes of the struggle for e6istence and for higher reasoning IJ7 *p. 7 C+. Hikewise Tilney says4FThe frontal lobe IJ is no, credited ,ith such functions as those connected ,ith the regulation of thehigher faculties of the mind- the de%elopment of personalit$- the formation of all the associational memories,hich IJ bespeak the degree of intellectual de%elopment7 *p. C>+. $orrespondingly, from ape-like andfrom primitive to later man this part of the brains has developed most of all.FTraced through all theirintermediate steps up,ard it is e6actl$ these pre3frontal and frontal regions ,hich manifest the mostconspicuous de%elopment7 *ib7, p. >9@+.

It is a curious thing, however, that the contention which regards the frontal brains as being the special orgof human intelligence, has not been explicitly supported by neurological research. In cases of disease, whcertain other parts of the cortex were destroyed, the capacities of intelligence were lost. The removal of frontal lobe of apes, on the other hand, produced no change in the effective connection of all actions wdid disappear was the active attentiveness, the careful investigating curiosity, the cunning shining of teyes, and the control of impulses. Thus Bianchi, on account of these experiments, indicated the frontal lo

as the organ of attention. Golt% had previously stated that intelligence had no more to do with the frolobe than is contained in its association with other parts of the brain. !unk put it in this way that intelligenhas its seat everywhere in the cerebral cortex and not in any particular part *cf. Bianchi, p. =- +. 3lechsalso held this opinion. 5e describes how there are certain cortex areas between and besides those for sigh

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hearing, and general sensations of the body, and that nerve-threads coming from all the surrounding aremeet here, intertwine, and in this manner interconnect those areas.FThere are IJ e6tended areas of thecorte6 ,hose purpose is essentiall$ to associatie the state of e6citation of the different sensorial spheres *p.D +. 1nd on the same sub ect Audson 5errick says4FThe enormous increase in the si#e of the human corte6is chiefl$ in the association fields7 Here- then- is to be sought the structural organisation upon ,hich dependhuman culture and the progress of ci%ili#ation7 The feature ,hich most distinguishes these associational

fields from the rest of the corte6 is their greater ,ealth of strictl$ intercortical associational connections7*79, p. 7D@+. 5ence, he continues, the much larger wealth of structures in which previous forms of reaare fixed and are at hand for assimilation into ever new combinations4 which is capacity for learning. 5en

further the greater dynamic effect of the stored tension in the neurons, which is now placed underdeliberate control of spontaneous thought.

3lechsig considers the function of the large association centre situated behind the side lobes to beFthe forming and collecting of perceptions of e6terior ob*ects and of sound images- the connecting of the one ,iththe other- hence the actual positi%e kno,ledge- and not less the fantastic acti%it$ of imagination7 IJ briefl$the essential contents of ,hat language denotes as intelligence L &Geist) M *l7c7, p. D7+. <egarding the frontallobes themselves, he says4F+t seems to be a fact that positi%e kno,ledge does not suffer directl$ ,hen the

frontal lobe is destro$ed S ,hat does suffer is the ade@uate use of it- in that e%entuall$ a complete lack ofinterest IJ asserts itself *ib7, p. D9+.

The growth of the frontal brains from the lower mammals to the apes corresponds to an increasingly actattentiveness in all their actions. This is most striking already now and again with dogs butFin dogs the frontal lobe has not assumed control of the mental life- ,hich re%ol%es mostl$ in the sensor$ corte6*Bianchi, p. C +. In the case of apes who, ust as man, through the concerted action of their eyes are enabto see stereo-scopically and thereby to distinguish position in space, this results in a much more constcontrol of actions. The development culminates in human thinking which is a process of uninterruptintensive attention. $onsciousness is activeFattenti%eness o%er a passi%e course of perceptions *Cla$ , p.77+. It wellnigh follows, therefore, that the mental processes of linking together and ordering the serie perceptions in a designed se2uence, of surveying them up- and downward and automatically commencingterminating them, and organising them into conceptions, must link up with the processes of actiattentiveness, and thus have their organ in the frontal brains. It should also be noted that what 3lechsig ca positive knowledge, the combining of different sorts of sensations into images and perceptions, is not essential and special property of the human mind. /uch a body of facts is also possessed by higher animathough they do not have it in our form of conscious knowing. #ne can call thisFintelligence , but it mustthen be distinguished fromFreason , the capacity of forming free and abstract conceptions, which as theorgan of theory is characteristic of the human mind.

#ne might therefore expect that the human frontal brains would show a stronger development than the rewhen compared with the higher apes. Tilney actually asserts that the human frontal area amounts to = R the entire side surface *C9 out of 0 C s2. cm+, whereas this is 99 R with the chimpan%ee, and 97 R withgorilla.F+t is- therefore- in the e6pansion of the frontal lobe- both in the area co%ered b$ it and the great

increase in the comple6it$ of its con%olutions- that the human brain stands in striking contrast to theanthropoids *l7c7, p. C9- C=+. This, however, is contradicted by the accurate measurements of the surfacof the cortex with all its windings and folds *by Brodman, by Hebouc2, and by Brummelkamp+. Thmeasurements *cf. Brummelkamp, , p. 7D+ show that the proportion between the frontal part and the o parts is identical for anthropoids and for human beings,%i# 0 4 7.@, according to the latter. 5ereFfrontalincludes all that is situated in front of theFcentral fissure and therefore also the motor area. 3urther there isstill the uncertainty as to how much of the surface within a fold belongs to the one, and how much to tother part. If we assume this result to be correct, then the strong growth of the frontal brains relative to rest did not accompany the genesis of man, but that of apes or anthropoids from lower mammals. It follotoo that the 2uadrupling of the cerebral cortex at the genesis of man to the same extent holds good for bthe association fields situated more to the rear, in which the combined images and perceptions for

themselves and constitute the immense material of practical knowledge, and for the frontal organ where tmaterial is grouped into a world of abstract conceptions, the world of theoretical knowledge.

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There is something contradictory in that the 2ualitative leap in thinking from animal to man should hanothing which corresponds in the organ of thinking, the brains undergoing a merely 2uantitatienlargement. This then would have to be understood in such a way that the enlargement is to be regardeda condition, but not as a sufficient or decisive cause for the 2ualitative leap it did not necessarily bring wit the new character of human thinking. Besides the biological growth of the brains there must have beother causes through which specifically human thought came into existence.

'. Speech

&)7 /peech is one of the most essential characteristics of man, distinguishing him most strikingly from tanimals. This is so true that it is sometimes regarded as the only determining characteristic, in that definition man starts with the coming of speech.

/peech consists of active production and passive understanding of sounds for mutual communication aunderstanding. /uch sounds, however, also exist in animal communities, with their effects on their fellow!ost of the higher animals are capable of producing throat sounds as expressions of their emotions. Thesalso exist with solitary living animals, and are normally related to their sexual emotions or they may bmeans of terrifying a prey. ith gregarious animals these sounds likewise are expressions of emotions, ofear in case of danger, of anger, or of contentment. /ince the other members of a group react by nature tsuch sounds, they ac2uire the character of warning or assurance and become a means of understanding aco-operation which is valuable in their struggle for life.

If sometimes such sounds, in their highest state of development, are called animal language, this tecertainly is improperly used, as the comparison is very remote. 5uman speech differs from animal soundsthat it consists of words. ords are names for things, actions or properties. ords are sound-symbols,sounds serving as a symbol for something else, and signifying something else. Hanguage is an organissystem of conventional sounds, serving as symbols for realities.F"anguage is a purel$ human and non3instincti%e method of communicating ideas- emotions and desires b$ means of a s$stem of %oluntaril$

produced s$mbols IJ the essence of language consists in the assigning of con%entional- %oluntaril$articulated sounds IJ to the di%erse elements of e6perience7 *!apir , p. D s22+. The similarity of animalsound and human speech as an instrument of communication and mutual intercourse makes it conceivathat the one has developed from the other through a natural process. 5owever, the not only great, bessential difference, and the not merely 2uantitative but 2ualitative distinction makes it that human spemust be an entirely new creation. 1s such an explanation will have to be sought, as part of the entire problof the origin of man.

The characteristic element in language as a complex of symbols is the arbitrariness. There is no cleconnection between the ob ect or phenomenon and its name ( apart from occasional examples oonomatopoeia, such as cuckoo. The soundFhorse designates a certain type of animal, but it only has thismeaning for those speaking the same language. 3or that reason language is not innate, but has to be learn by means of imitating. #nly the disposition, the ability and the organ of speech are inborn. It is precisely t

necessity for learning, for being initiated in the complex of symbols, that demonstrates the artificialitylanguage. The same thing, for example the same species of animal, will be designated by different peop by entirely different words4 horse, cheval, pferd, e2uus, hippos, loshad , kooda.

This does not mean that they are arbitrary fancies. Hanguage has developed and grown according to its orules, which are an ob ect of investigation in comparative linguistics. Hanguage has been called a creationthe human mind. That does not mean, however, that its rules are products of intelligence and udgment. Tcurious origin of the German wordF<ferd from the HatinFpara%eredus , a carriage with men and horsesre2uisitioned by the government, illustrates the chance-character of names *cf7 Geiger , p. 7C0+. ?articularlythe languages of the most primitive, least developed peoples, often show the most intricate grammatirules, far beyond the theoretical understanding of those using them.FThe e%olution of language sho,s a

progressi%e tendenc$ from inseparable irregular conglomerations to freel$ and regularl$ combinable shortelements7 F<rimiti%e language IJ has a larger %ocabular$ than later languages * =espersen , p. =7>,=90+. That development goes from greater complication to smoothness and simplicity is a proofspontaneous evolution, and in this respect language and its sub ection to laws is rather to be considered a

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natural product. The science of linguistics traces the human mind in its mysterious hidden and subconsciodepths, in which it acts not as conscious intelligence, but as an unconscious force of nature.

7 Information is the main characteristic of speech, though now and again an emotional exclamation m perform the same role. ith animals the informative function is to be found in the kind of emotional sounwhich effects a special attitude with the others, and stimulates a determinate behaviour as a reaction to sound. ith man the communication, be it a warning, 2uestion, answer, or announcement, takes the form oa phrase imparting information with regard to conditions which are of importance in the struggle for lith the animal a warning cry or an alluring call at most can be considered as a kind of signal.FBut are

signals the same as ,ords2 No- for ,ords can ser%e to build up a sentence ,hich e6presses more than amere summation of ,ords5 from signals onl$ a se@uence of signals can be made IJ7 No animal e6pressesitself in ,ords- and no animal composes sentences5 this is the essential point7 * Ammann , p. >-0 +.#riginally the single word could serve as a communication, and the communication consisted of a singword, a sound. In a later development sentences are formed with different words associated in differerelations to one another, such as sub ect, ob ect, and verb. Thereby the experience and the situation can depicted in a more precise and detailed manner. ords become relay-pieces as it were which ever again ca be included as free links in another context. This opens up the possibility of separating the elements, ocomplex of actions and of imagining them individually.

#riginally a communication, proceeding from a short exclamation, was intended to provoke an action others, as an immediate reaction to the sound heard. In the further development there appears a separati between hearing and acting. The communication serves as a preparation for action later on. It becomes sesufficient and an aim in itself. Instead of being a spur inciting action, it becomes a neutral description of situation, whereby the experience of one becomes the knowledge of others. Then language begins differentiate and to enrich itself, words increase in numbers and split up into many meanings, and frnames of things and actions they become indications of properties and situations, of place, time, aconditions. 1s a new and living organism develops from a few similar cells into an ever increasing diversof organs, so language grows into a workable instrument of ever greater power and flexibility.

/peech now is no longer a part of another action, but has become an independent action. The reaction tocommunication is no longer an immediate activity action, but aFlinguistic action *as called in the theory of/ignifica+ it is a response in the language itself. /peech now becomes an organ of deliberation, and medium for the combining and ad usting of personal experiences. Kerbal intercourse, consisting of speakto each other, now becomes an exchange of thoughts, and a special field of human life. It becomes the mspecialised and complicated of all expressions of personal life, at a greater distance and through intricintermediate forms connected with the practical daily life of labour. 1t this stage the often used definitionspeech4 that it is an expressing of ideas by means of sound-symbols, is appropriate. It has now develointo a means for transferring the knowledge of an individual to that of a whole community.

&7 /peech is a communal organ. 'early all authors who deal with it have expressed, more or less clearlythis to be its essential basis.F!peech is the great medium through ,hich human co3operation is brought

about7 +t is the means b$ ,hich the di%erse acti%ities of men are co3ordinated and correlated ,ith each other for the attainment of common and reciprocal ends7 :en do not speak simpl$ to relie%e their feelings or to airtheir %ie,s- but to a,aken a response in their fello,s and to influence their attitudes and acts7 * e Haguna, p. 0>+. /peech would have been non-existent if there had not been a community it would have been uselfor isolated beings living outside a community, and could as little have originated as an eye in perpetudarkness.

The community is not an accidental collection of individuals. It was not the individual but the communwhich, from the earliest times, as with our animal-like ancestors, was the life-element of mankind. This pohas been fre2uently overlooked in modern individualistic ways of thinking. The fact that the group, clantribe, was the all and end for primitive peoples, and the individual next to nothing, had to be rediscover

5owever, the significance of the group remains even for our modern times.FThe %er$ amount of literatureand tradition about the dangers of the cro,d IJ has seriousl$ misled us7 The implication has been thatonl$ the indi%idual free from the control of the group is the normal and desirable person7 Nothing could be

farther from the truth , states the 1merican sociologist 5erbert !iller *p. l+. 1nimals, and likewise men,0>D



live in communities on account of the great advantages gained thereby in the struggle for life. In the fi place it offers reciprocal protection and assistance against enemies it is known that beasts of prey endeavto isolate individual members of a herd. ?rotection is obtained by means of united strength or by warninsometimes combined with an instinctive division of labour. The entire group profits from the experiencethe individual members. 1 further and very important factor is the protection of the young. Each memberthe group thus has a greater chance of becoming full-grown and of procreating. 1ll the 2ualities essential the life of the community are thereby perpetuated.

The most important of these are the social instincts. These social instincts are intensified by selecti

because the groups where they are weak are more easily destroyed and the groups where they are stro persist, closely united. These special social 2ualities, such as solidarity, loyalty, courage, the readinessmake sacrifices, known to men as moral sentiments, become dominating features. They become such, notaccount of reason or udgement, but instinctively, through an irresistible impulse hence, since their origremains unconscious, they are felt to be mysterieus and supernatural. They are the cement of the communmoulding it into a firm and unbreakable unity.F?ach indi%idual unconsciousl$ postulates his o,n e6istencein the continuit$ of his group- because in the struggle for sur%i%al there ,as no other possibilit$ ofe6istence * :iller , l7c7, p. @+. The deep instinct of self-preservation must make place for, or rather take the nature of, communal feeling. The interests of the community stand as the supreme commandment oand above personal interests, because the life of each individual is ensured only when the community itssurvives.

The community is a life-community, ointly engaged in the struggle for survival. $ommunity action consiof communal or associative work, the common fight against enemies included. The community is a workand fighting community, moulded into a unity by strong social forces. 1ll action is co-operation so an orgis needed for mutual understanding, for communication and deliberation. /peech is such an organ, and is tmightiest means for binding the community together, the most important and indispensable instrument incommon struggle for existence.F+n its primiti%e uses- language functions as a link in concerted humanacti%it$- as a piece of human beha%iour IJ narrati%e speech is primaril$ a mode of social action ratherthan a mere reflection of thought , thus !alinowski expresses the function of speech with primitive peoples*cf7 gden and 9ichards , p. = =-= @+. /peech is not, as #tto Aespersen conceived it to be with primitivman, a luxurious blossoming and an organ of mere emotion, bursting into song *D+. /peech is theindispensable element of the most important contents of life, namely the work in common, inspiringthought and sentiment, including also the emotional blossomings of imagination and mysticism in ritual solemnity, in feast and song. Economy and cultural life are not separated and opposed to each other4 theyone. ork and struggle are not distasteful accessories they are hard reality, as surely they are for each livin being that asserts itself, well-balanced and in harmony with its surroundings. That which is necessary aessential to life gives it its contents and significance and becomes the source of sentiment and poetry. 1s this action is done in common, organised by, and permeated with, strong social sentiments, language, t binding element, possesses a powerful sentimental value and becomes the bearer of the most profouemotions.

/peech multiplies the strength of the community, is it enables the experience of each member to become t property of the whole. The assembling of all experiences, and the exchanging and ad usting of thoughtsmutual deliberation, result in knowledge becoming a purer, more precise and ob ective basis for effectiactions.

Its significance for the community, however, is even greater than what is gained by mutual informatio/peech is also the organ for verbal tradition, the treasure-house of lasting and increasing knowledge. Bmeans of speech the older generation passes en its knowledge to the younger. 1s stated above, thcommunity is immortal and its possession of knowledge, which has to accompany and complete as a mefor their good use the possession of tools, of technical implements, consists of language and is expressedwords and sentences. The technical apparatus could not continue to develop if knowledge and science

not develop simultaneously. /olely because this fund of knowledge is fixed, retained, and preserved blanguage, it can continue to increase indefinitely. Thus speech becomes the vehicle of ever higher hum progress.

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7 henever speech and language here are spoken of it stands to reason that both sides, speaking as theactive, hearing as the passive side, are included as a matter of course. 5earing and sight are alwaymentioned together as the highest, most developed and most important senses of man. Fet there existsnoteworthy contrast between these two whilst sight is primarily an individual organ, hearing is above acommunity organ. /ight allows for such a detailed orientation in space and such a wealth of knowledge the natural surroundings as could never be supplied by hearing. This takes place by means of the direobservation in two dimensions, which becomes a precise localisation in three dimensions through tstereoscopic use of both eyes. ith man hearing, on the contrary, is a down-right community-sense it bindhim to his fellow-men by means of spiritual intercourse. /ight is the organ and vehicle for ob ective an

passionless knowledge of facts. 5earing is the organ and vehicle of abstract thought and of all inner feelinwhich pervade the relation of man with his fellow-men. 5erein lies the basis for the emotional power of human voice, and of sound and music in general, in contrast to the cooler beauty of the visual arts.

'%. Speech and thinking

7 It is at once clear that speech would be impossible without human thinking whilst language is not arbitrary product of the intellect, it is, nevertheless, a product of the human mind. hen man gives names tthings the autonomous, creative power of the mind comes into action. ords are names for conceptions. Th perceptions must have been digested into abstract notions when they are designated by words. The fhandling of conceptions is necessary when oining words into sentences, which is the upward and downwinsertion of different links into the chain of thought, and constitutes the specific character of human thinkiIn short, language is a spiritual phenomenon. Therefore it is understandable that, fre2uently, the concluswas drawn that the human mind had to develop first, and that from it speech came forth.

In opposition to this simple opinion Ha%ar Geiger with great emphasis put forth its antithesis.F+t is notreason that has caused speech- but the other ,a$ round , thus he expresses it in theFContents of his work*p. xxi+. Thinking in conceptions is not possible without speech ( speech always understood in the doumeaning of speaking and hearing ( conceptions in the end are nothing but words or combinations of worEverybody knows, and can verify for himself, that conscious thought consists of deliberating with onesela voiceless discussion we think in words and sentences, without the larynx or tongue coming into actioFHo, often does it not happen- in the most %aried realms- that a greater clarit$ of thought is suddenl$brought about b$ a happil$ spoken ,ord Ues- it needs onl$ a momentar$ obser%ation of oursel%es tocon%ince oursel%es that not onl$ the more distinct but also the more intensi%e our thinking the more ,e do so,ith ,ords onl$ IJ so that present thinking is nothing but silent speaking- talking ,ith or ,ithin oursel%esIJ7 !o speech certainl$ has permeated thinking to such an e6tent and all its parts ha%e connected

themsel%es so intimatel$ ,ith it- that thinking loosened from this connection- thinking before and ,ithout speech- has to be essentiall$ different from our present thinking7 Whereas ,e hesitate to ascribe to reason adetermining influence in the construction of language- $et a mutual relation bet,een them cannot be denied-

since reason ,ithout speech cannot be complete and for the creation of reason speech is not irrele%ant7*Geiger , l7c7, p. 07-09+. #r to 2uote a modern author4FThere is no thinking in conceptions ,ithout speech-and also in silent thinking ,e are apt to make indicati%e speech3mo%ements- gi%ing firm supports to the

%ague fleeting stream of consciousness7 * :üller3.reienfels , p. 0C=+.3rom the changing mass of perceptions, partly new sensations and partly memories recalled by theconstantly recurring connections will form themselves as images, press forward, and endeavour to themselves. They remain vague, however, and dissolve, as long as they are not fixed by a name,i7e7 a word.#nce the nebulous mass in our mind has been fixed in a sensorial perceptible phenomenon, as an audible a pronounceable sound, it becomes a conception, something that can be grasped *+ and handled. 'ow thegroup of phenomena is fenced off from the rest of the world by the name which collects and summarithem *Fthe ,ord is a fence +. 1nd any further phenomenon of the same sort is placed in this group bydenoting it by the same name for with this name as a label it is recognised, and all further properties aconse2uences are known at once *Fthe ,ord is a label +. Thereafter, to recall the perception it is no longernecessary that similar phenomena take place. The mention of the name is sufficient, and the word is nowclosely connected with the conception that the whole series of perceptions can thereby at will be broughthe front in our thoughts, as a marshalled, obedient crowd *Fthe ,ord is a %ehicle , thus ewey expressesthese successive functions of the word+.

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Hanguage is praised as theFunsurpassable- efficient instrument of thought. But it is more. The intellectwould be incomplete without language, nay, it would not exist at all. Ideas and perceptions have onlyshadowy, intangible and spiritual existence. The real world consists of concrete things, which are t phenomena themselves the abstract conception is merely the expression of what a group of phenomena in common, and therefore is outside this world of phenomena, with no separate reality. The word, the namgives it that separate reality, as a physical existence, *although this is only transient+ and changes it insomething, which can be described, and with which one can work. The word gives substance toconception and only through the word the vague feeling is turned into a precise thought. This is also truethe physical things of the world themselves. The thing also is an abstraction, a summary of all the separ

images and impressions of sight, feeling etc., which have been ac2uired from different angles at differtimes. The identity which the word, the name, ensures to these changing phenomenal forms makes themfigure in space, a permanent and constantly recognisable ob ect, of which the different perspective aspecan be derived and can be known in advance. The animal too recognises, through experience and instinct, identity and similarity of enemy or prey ( though here also strongly led by the positionless impressionsmell. 5owever, to arrive at a clear picture of shape in the surrounding space, from this recognition, tformation of abstract conceptions attached to the word is necessary.

D7 It was seen above that the special character of human thinking lies in the interrupting of the series perceptions, and in the parts becoming independent, self-sufficient and becoming ob ects of observatithemselves. It should now be added that this is only possible when they can be designated and thereby fixed. By giving them names they are made, as it were, into things which can be laid hold of, manipulatand combined. That we can follow the series up and down, and can distinguish the different links, lift thout, exchange them, and compare them with other series, is made possible by constantly calling them names, and by linking together and oining the names, which then as symbols represent the summarisrealities of the world.

'ow the realities of the world can be indicated in still another manner than by giving them names, such by pointing to them, or by a picture. 5ere the name evokes the picture. But this is impossible in the casethe more abstract ideas there is the word only. /uch conceptions as virtue in ethics, truth in epistemologadaptation in biology, and entropy in physics, correspond with phenomena so barely outlined and relatioso broadly spread that one can scarcely if at all visualise them as images, but can only indicate them words. The word, the symbol, is their sole tangible and representative form. /peaking of them thefre2uently seems, and often is, a play on words but the words do mean something, and because they aunderstood, this is not a senseless or resultless play.FAlmost all higher intellectual acti%it$ is a matter of,ords- to the nearl$ total e6clusion of e%er$thing else IJ7 The ,ord is al,a$s concrete and sensible-ho,e%er abstract its meaning ma$ be- and thus b$ the help of ,ords ,e are able to d,ell on abstractions ina ,a$ ,hich ,ould other,ise be impossible7 * B7 9ussell , p. 700+. !oreover this dwelling on and workingwith abstractions, not only holds good for information and discussion, but also for private consideration, personal thought, for the deepening of one6s own thoughts, and for the building-up of a theoretical insighits most absolutei7e7 in its philosophical abstractions, thinking has become working entirely with wordwith symbols only.

Thus human thinking and speech, words and conceptions are inseparably bound together. Even if we shocall one the cause for the other, the one cannot be imagined without the other. Though we cannot call theidentical, because they are different sides of a process, yet they are different aspects of one and the sam process, which is the building-up of consecutive series of perceptions and ideas, pictures and symbols, of world in which we live, and the means for realising our life in it as a richly varied process. Together thoriginated, and together they have developed with and through one another to their present height. In problem of the origin of man they appear as a unity.

E7 /peech however is, as we have seen, a product of the community it could only comne into existence the community, and it could only remain in existence as an organ of the community.F+f ,e had not talked

,ith others and the$ ,ith us- ,e should ne%er talk to and ,ith oursel%es7 * 0e,e$ , 0=, p. 0 +. This showshow the whole of our capacity for abstraction and thinking is rooted in the community, in spite of tindividual form of its appearance.F!peech and reason de%elop onl$ in the ,omb of the communit$7 =ust asthe ,ord onl$ possesses sense and meaning for the particular communit$ Lbecause its mere sound states

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?roceeding from the significance of speech for thinking, some investigators have sought for the seat logical thinking and abstract reasoning in these and the surrounding parts of the frontal brains. It appearhowever, that the loss of speech did not effect the capacity for thinkng4F IJ the functioning of the intellectdoes not depend on normal conditions of the cortical motor organ of language IJ but on its cortical

sensor$ organs- auditor$ and %isual IJ Fthe motor area of language does not e6ercise an$ realregulati%e po,er on either the formation or on the mo%ement of thought7 It is Fthe auditor$ sphere oflanguage- ,hich is one of the main ,heels in the logical mo%ement of thought7 * Bianchi , l7c7 p. 00>-07 +.The parts of the cortex in which the connection of wordsounds with corresponding thought-series takes pland forms itself, are the association-fields, situated round the temple lobe. hen these fields are affected an

destroyed by disease, the symptoms of word-deafness and word-blindness appear. The sound is then heaor the word read, but its meaning is not understood, and the whole process of logical thought, the normlinking of conceptions, is disturbed. 3rom this must be concluded that the heard word is far more closconnected with human thinking than the spoken word. Fet we have to consider that both these functions not exist independently of each other, but, localised in neighbouring fields of the cortex, influence each ot powerfully. This is apparent, for instance, in that such mental defects are nearly always connected with very hemisphere that contains the speech-centre becoming affected. The one-sidedness of the active speecentre clearly involves an asymmetry in the organ of hearing and comprehending. The anatomicsubstratum for the connections of speech and thought must be sought for in the countless connections in fields of association and assimilation alongside and around the sensorial and motor centres, which constitthe huge main part of the human cerebral cortex.

'%%. Tools and thinking

'7 e read in 1ristotle4 FAna6agoras sa$s that man is the most intelligent animal- because he possesseshands . Thus the realisation of a deep natural connection between the spiritual and the material woralready appears in the first philosophical thoughts of anti2uity. Hater ages receded from this opinio1ristotle 2uotes him to reprove him, and here Galen agrees4FBecause he ,as the ,isest- he therefore

possesses hands as Aristotle rightl$ *udged7 Because not the hands taught man the arts- but reason . 1ndalso $harles Bell, in accordance with the aim and the purport of his book, holds with this opinion4Fthe

possession of the read$ instrument is not the cause of man4s superiorit$ IJ7 !o- ,e rather sa$ ,ith Galen-that man has hands gi%en to him- because he is the ,isest of creatures- 4than ascribe this superiorit$ andkno,ledge to the use of his hands7 * Bell , p. 7=>+.

ThisFuse of his hands is the using of tools. It has been repeatedly stated that the use of tools and humanthinking are not independent of each other. 1bove, in chapter II, attention has already been drawn to the fathat intelligence,i7e7 human thought, is re2uired for using and even more for making and inventingimplements. 3or it demands the capacity of reviewing beforehand and imagining the results of what does yet exist, or rather only exists in the mind.

This connection of course cannot mean that human thought at first spontaneously came into existence, means of the biological growth of the brains, and that after that tools were invented and handled. /uch

opinion overlooks the fact that human thought, compared with animal thought, not only shows a 2uantitaincrease, but also a 2ualitative change of character. Its coming into existence of its own accord would bmiraculous creation, lying beyond the province of science. !oreover the infinitely slow development of thfirst stone implements over a period of thousands of centuries contradicts such an opinion it displays all features of a labourious growth on its own accord, hence an autonomous development, which is totadifferent from what an even slowly growing deliberate reasoning would have invented. Intellect is nogiven capacity that previously existed in a dormant state it consists of thoughts, which form and chanaccording to the stimuli and necessities of life. It is well-known how, from a study of later ages which wmore highly developed technically, technical imperfections, as experienced in the practical use of tools, ha stimulating effect on the faculty of thinking. The very fact that human reason is needed for using toomeans that thought had to take on such forms as suited and made possible the use of tools. Thus, conversethe handling of implements acted on thinking.(7 To realise the influence of the implement on thought, we must, as if condensing a long gradudevelopment into a sudden ump, compare the actions of an animal or of man6s tool-less ancestor, and th

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of a primitive man already possessing tools. hen faced with the recurring conditions of its environmensuch as hunger and food, prey, or danger, the animal6s reactions, which may be attack, defence or flight, dictated by its bodily organs, thereby becoming lifetime habits. Even if the animal should have a modeveloped faculty of thinking and could imagine other reactions, this would still be of no use to it its bod build restricts its possibilities. 5ence its thinking and its brain-apparatus are and remain ust what they aIts reactions have become fixed along almost stable tracks into permanent habits, taking place as immediinstinctive actions.

!an6s reactions to exterior stimuli are of a different nature, as in between his body and the exterior world

which he must react, the tool enters. Instead of immediately using his bodily organs, by sei%ing his f between his aws, gripping the prey with his hands, defending himself with his fists, or fleeing from danghe takes the appropriate tool or weapon and uses it. ith it, as if he were a new being, e2uipped with a neworgan, he manipulates his food, or attacks his prey or enemy. 5is actions follow a new course hence hthoughts too have to follow a new course. The actions follow a detour, no longer going directly to the ob but to the implement, and only then from there to the ob ect. Therefore thinking must also follow a detoThe spontaneous impulse to act, belonging to the condition in which there were no implements, has torestrained conse2uently the immediately formed series of perceptions of springing to action or fleeing malso be suppressed and be replaced by another leading to the implement or the weapon. Thus ocharacteristie element of human thinking, its indirectness, already noted above, appears as a necessaconse2uenee of the use of tools.

The former consecutive series of actions, from the first perception to the attained ob ect, is now interruphalfway. The implement must be taken, fetched or made ready. 1ll this means a postponement, withcontinuing and completing of the action coming about only later on. Therefore the corresponding series perceptions too is arrested, to be taken up independently later on. #r more precisely, the series of furthconnected perceptions is formed, but without the accompanying act, existing merely as thought. The procof thinking takes on a new form. It becomes an act in itself and finds an end in itself,%i# in an intention or aninference or a suspended plan it remains spiritual, not producing an actual phenomenon. In this way the uof tools leads to independence of thinking it is no longer part of a process but a separate process itself. Tseparation of thought and action, which we learned to recognise as the essential characteristic of hummental activity, manifested in the separation of theory and practice, is induced by the fact that the tool plaitself as a new element between the organism and the exterior world.

The chain of brain-processes, therefore, must also change. The cerebral cortex after the same stimulus of sense-organ must effect a different motor reaction. The stimulus may no longer pass in the former way frthe sensory to the motor centres new connections have to be formed for new co-ordinations with othcortex-fields. 'erve-fibres will have to develop in a new way. The stimulus must follow another route, linitself with memory-images of the implement or weapon, and along this new detour affect the motor centr1t the same time the former course must be checked, and the old connection must be put out of action,though in cases of panic it momentarily acts again (, and also the result of the new co-ordinations must of be suspended, and hence arrested. hat Audson 5errick states of the cortex generally, (Fprimiti%el$-

cortical acti%it$ is in%oked- not to produce action- but ,ithin action- first checking inappropriate refle6esand then amplif$ing- redirecting- recombining- or other,ise impro%ing upon the immediate responses *79, p. 7D + ( is applicable here too on a higher level. hilst the old coursea3b becomes atrophied, by beingconstantly arrested and by disuse, the new indirect routesa3c3b continue to develop by constant use.

'ow man does not have ust one tool at his disposal, but different ones, so that he must choose betweethem. 1t every sensual perception, whether of food, danger, or a prey, he must not only suppress the oimpulse, but also make a choice, and decide which implement he will use, and how to act with it. Timplements now become ob ects which have to be inserted as separate interchangeable links into the serof actions therefore the conceptions too, as their correlates, become separate mental ob ects, which mustinserted as interchangeable links into the series of perceptions. The series of perceptions must not on

extend to the tool, but proceed to the final action, and again not only for one, but for each of the availaimplements. It has been said above *in chapter III, 00+ that the series of perceptions continues as if by itseven though the action may be arrested. It is now apparent why this series must be continued till the e because the intervention of the implement was the cause of this arrest and this arrest gave rise to a choi

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1ll these series of perceptions must be followed and their results compared, the entire row of possibilitimust be considered, and the decision and action take place according to be findings of the result. herformerly different series of possible actions were spoken of, it now appears that this diversity has its oriin the diversity of implements that can be used.

The stimulus-current now does not follow one single detour in the cerebral cortex, but several there is none a3c3b, but ana3c1 3b, an a3c2 3b, etc. The nerve routesc1 , c2 , . corresponding to different series of perceptions, singly and still more when combined, form such an extensive complex that a much greater amore intricate profusion of connections with each other and with the sensory and motor areas must com

into action and be developed in the relevant extensive fields of the cortex. In the mutual comparison of routes the function of attention comes into action, whereby active consciousness of thoughts and actionestablished. 1nd according as the implements become more widely differentiated and life6s possibilities emore varied, the connections of the nerve-tracks must become more intricate, the association-tracks mgrow into an ever more important part of the central organ, and thinking must develop into a facultyincreasingly greater wealth and independence.

1 choice had already to be made before implements were constructed, when man only took in his hand tcrude stones and sticks offered by nature. It is possible that then the first dawning of conscious reflectmight already have appeared. 5owever, the independence of the process of thinking is only achieved whforesight of the action leads to preparation in advance, hence, when man makes his implements. The furtaction, involving the use of the implement, must have been thought out in advance, and in conse2uen prepared for in anticipation, before the needs of the situation or the event caused action to be taken. 1t thstage the action is divided into two entirely separate parts, each complete in itself. The first is tconstruction of the implement, as a preparation, which is an independent and for the moment concluded a5ence at this stage, thinking too must build up its chain of perceptions independently, autonomouslstarting from itself apparently without a direct exterior impulse, and fed by the memory-images of formexperience. Thus, from the necessity of constructing the implement in advance, a world of thought develowhich is man6s own mental life, a theoretical compendium of all his experiences, and a source for all further conscious action.

)7 In this way the tool gave a powerful impetus to the development of human thinking from the men processes of our animal-like ancestors. 'o one has disclosed the significance of the tool with such a force oconviction as the German scientist Hudwig 'oir^ in his above 2uoted book4F0as Werk#eug und seine

Bedeutung für die ?nt,icklungsgeschichte der :enschheit *0CC + *The Tool and its /ignificance for theevelopment of !ankind+. 5ere he writes4FNo moment has been of such a %ast and incalculable

importance for the de%elopment and fi6ing of thinking as the circumstance that soulless matter took on adefinite shape and- formed and transformed b$ the hand of man- had to ser%e purposes and to performlabour ,hich all other beings are onl$ able to perform ,ith their innate organs7 +ts great importance ischiefl$ situated in t,o thingsR firstl$ in the release or detachment of the causal relation- ,hereb$ the latterac@uires a great and increasing clarit$ in human consciousness5 and secondl$ in the ob*ecti%ation or the

pro*ection of the o,n organs ,hose action originall$ e6isted onl$ in the dimmer consciousness of instincti%e

functioning7 *p. 9=+. 3ormerly the causally operative effects of nature are undergone passively and alwhen the animal acts actively, its acting is a natural impulse which does not give rise to ama%ement atherefore, to thought.FThe relation becomes entirel$ different ,hen the tool places itself as an inter*acentlink bet,een the ,ill and the intended result IJ7 .or here the causal conception strikes the e$e andimposes itself as if of its o,n accord7 The ,orking ob*ect must first be created or at least fetched5 therelation bet,een the appropriate means and the intended action is precisel$ the causal relation itself5 here it

presents itself to the obser%ing consideration in its simplest tangible embodiment7 *l7c7, p. 9@+. Thatconsciousness acknowledges itself as an effective force, as a cause, and thus becomes self-consciousnessob ective contemplation of itself, is rendered possible only when in tool and machine the working cause athe resulting effect stand clearly before one6s eyes. Therefore, too, the organs of the human and animal boare only understood in their action after the creation of artificial implements and apparatus which can se

as comparative examples. The arm is then explained and understood as a lever, the eye as a camera, the as a keyboard, the heart as a pump, the larynx as an organ-pipe, and the nerve system as a telephonetwork.

7 9



3or man e2uipped with implements the world becomes an ob ect, or rather a multitude of ob ects, on whhe reacts in various ways, whereas for the tool-less animal the world remains a whole in which as a parfinds its place and performs its actions of life.FThe consciousness of self kindles and illuminates itself onl$

from the ob*ecti%e ,orld5 but not from the ob*ecti%e ,orld as such- as it surrounds us and stares at us- asindeed it is also stared at- i.e. looked at ,ithout understanding- b$ the animals- but in so far it is changed-modified- transformed b$ human ,ill- b$ human acti%it$- i.e.b$ the sub*ecti%e factor *l7c7, p. D0+.

7 1 new and powerful influence emanates from the handling of tools to the organs of perception anconsciousness, and thereby to mental life. It supplies a new experience of the exterior world. The delic

sense of touch vested in the fingers comes into action when gripping and guiding the tool which is usedoperate on the outside world by some such action as beating, pressing, rubbing and boring. It is aggressive operation, attempting to bring about changes. The exterior world reacts, an its resistance, whmust be broken, is caught up by the hand as the organ of the sense of touch. /ince intensity is felt anmeasured here, this is 2uite another use of the sense of touch, as it is different from only contacting tsurrounding space for the purpose of orientation *a use which, in fact, hardly plays any part at all wadults+.FThe high importance of the hand as an organ of reason lies in its preponderant acti%it$- thatessentiall$ necessar$ factor- ,ithout ,hich no kno,ledge at all becomes possible7 * NoirO, p. >D+.

The experience of the use of tools, as an active expression of a vital energy, called up by life6s needs, spemuch more intensely and more penetratingly than the passive experience of the impressions of the othsenses. 1s also experimenting, the provoking of answers from the world in reply to our 2uestions, althouindeed a much softer way of operating than labour for the needs of life, does work more intensely than mexpectant observing. 1part from the sense of touch, the muscular sense comes into action which, through tinnumerable retro-ceding nerve-fibres, informs the organism about its own movements. In the muscuexertion when working with the tool, such as in the blow of the axe or hammer, where the momentum of moving arm is increased by the handle, the relation between the observed effect of living force and tfeeling of accurately balanced applied energy offers a rich source of new experiences of the world.

&7 The precise manner in which the tool affects thought, techni2ue affects science, and vice versa, is cleaseen in the later and modern development of man. This is, however, more difficult if we go back to primittimes, as no data of experience are available. e may then try to understand these relationships, as explaineabove, by comparing Early !an possessing implements with the animal not possessing them, by comparinEarly !an already e2uipped with the capacity of thinking with the conception-less animal, and then tcompare their reactions. In actual fact, however, it was an extremely slow development and a procestretching over many hundreds, perhaps thousands, of centuries, in which the infinitely small steps are visible and cannot even be imagined. Is it not possible to fill in this lack of data by bringing the most higdeveloped animals, the anthropoids who in their brain capacity most of all approach man, into contact wsimple implements, and to study their reactions:

5ere it is not a matter of apes using such human utensils as a spoon, fork and mug, which is nothing mothan a sign of teachability and a greater faculty of imitation than in the case of other animals and it has s

less to do with the fancy that their intelligence could be developed to a higher stage through the use implements. The real significance of such tests lies in a careful and scientific investigation being made of mental properties and abilities of these animals, as was expressed by one of the pioneers in this realmresearch, olfgang 8 hler, in the title of his bookF+ntelligen#prüfungen an :enschenaffen *Intelligencetests with anthropoids+. 5ere the anthropoids are given simple aids, such as boxes, sticks, pieces of rope cloth, by which they might obtain the coveted fruits set beyond their reach, to see how they would use thThe animals used were always the chimpan%ees, for although gorillas are usually placed above them wrespect to their brain capacity, the chimpan%ee nevertheless shows a more active intelligence, which probably due to a more active group-life.

The chief difficulty lies in the interpreting, even in merely describing the results of these tests, because

terms used are always taken from the human spiritual life. The title of the book by the 1merica psychologist Ferkes4FAlmost Human , reveals a tendency, in the background of thought, to show howmuch of human thinking is already to be found with the chimpan%ee.

7 =



the origin of man. The conditions existing during these investigations and those during the first originman differ too much. 5ere, the animal, the experimental ob ect of the higher intelligence of man, is provid by human design and deliberation with ready made implements thought out for him. There, Early !anancestor had in an infinitely slow process to seek for himself the first aids in his heavy struggle for li5ere, the ape is studied as it is now, and how his mind works now. Even though the animal learns all kinof individual things, like rats and fish can also learn all kinds of things by training, there is of course 2uestion of a development of the species to new properties in these short, or even much longer, years *C+.There, the essential thing was ust that slow change of the species itself, the development of tool capabiland spiritual capacity in a continuous progress during hundreds of thousands of years. 5ere, man as t

knowing master experiments with the sub ected animal and only fantasts could imagine something like recreating of it into an animal possessing higher spiritual capacities. There, man had to create himsecreator and creature at the same time, through his own life-activity.

'%%%. Tools and speech

7 FTool and speech- according to ancient %ie,s- belong to the most human side of man , thus 8arl B hlercommences the ?reface to his work on the theory of language.FAccording to the ,hole build of his bod$ ,thus he approvingly cites $harles Bell,Fman is dependent on tools and speech- is ad*usted to tools and

speech . F!peech is akin to tools5 it also belongs to the implements of life- is an organon *ust as the materialimplement IJ *p. iii+. 5ere they are put forward as two independent data, side by side, togethedetermining what is special in man, without an indication of any causal relation between them. This relatihowever, is clearly stated, though looked at from one side only, by Grace de Haguna4F+t is scarcel$ credibleIJ that the art of chipping stone implements could ha%e been de%eloped b$ men ,ho had not $et learned to

speak7 The belief that the t,o great human functions are someho, causall$ interdependent- is probabl$ held@uite ,idel$ at the present time7 *p. 70C+. /till clearer, looked at from both sides, 'oir^ states it in theintroduction to his work4FThe mutual dependence- in uninterrupted interaction- of speech and tool- i.e. ofthinking and acting- constitutes the leading thread in these in%estigations7 *p. viii+.

It has already been remarked several times that an efficient use of implements without speech,i7e7 withoutwords to distinguish them, is hardly possible. $onversely this implies that in the process of developmentmankind the use of implements must have influenced human speech.

7 The transition from animal sound to human language is the transition from the utterance of emotionthe pronouncing of names which, as symbols, signify and designate things and actions. 5ow did it happthat certain things came to be designated by certain sounds: 3or the animal the world is a whole, analthough it is variable in that certain changes in aspect signifying danger or food force it into action, inevertheless a self-evident whole. That the parts, as separate things, are not recognised as such, demonstrated by the fact that for us too they ac2uire that individuality only when we distinguish themnames. In the subse2uent increase of knowledge, a field of phenomena often remains a vague and unravelunity until, when the various parts are named and characterised and well-defined conceptions are introducclarity, depth, and transparency appear. /imilarly, man6s own body is a self-evident whole, and th

spontaneous actions do not lead to discrimination of its parts in the whole of the world man discovhimself last of all.

'ow in this world, self-evident on all sides, the tool becomes apparent as something extraordinary. 1t ontime it is part of the body, in which it is a lifeless component and bodily organ, and at others cast away i part of the external world though ever anew sought for and taken up.FThe peculiarit$ and @uite formidableimportance of the tool is to be found in that it is at the same time part of the sub*ect and is $et an ob*ect7* NoirO, p. 0 +. The implement is the changing element, belonging now here, now there it severs thindivisible units and their self-evidence. 1ttention is, thus, concentrated on it, because it takes its plaoutside each of the usual worlds. 1t the same time it is of primary importance through the role it playswork and in the struggle for life it stands in the centre of man6s activity. Thus a sound accompanyingiven action is associated with the ob ect which is the carrier of the action. The ob ect itself is discrimina because a sound attaches itself to it it gets a name.

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Both Geiger arid 'oir^ have expressed the opinion that an initial beginning of language must have existe before the use of implements.F IJ linguistic stud$ has completel$ pro%ed that man alread$ possessedlanguage before he ,as in possession of the tool IJ7 9ight at the bottom of language3life man appears- not

$et distinguishable in this respect from animals- dependent on the action of his natural organs onl$7 * NoirO, p. 0 C+. It may be but in what he says further on4FAs is speech- so also is the tool a characteristic elementof man7 Without e6ception the ,orld of man and the ,orld of animals in this respect are opposite7 *l7c7, p.0 >+ the author himself throws doubt on whether the name of man can be applied here. !oreover we may bsure that in spite of this sharp division by sharp definitions there must have been transitional forms aintermediate states of a doubtful labelling. $himpan%ees living in groups also accompany their comm

activity by manifold noises and sounds in such instances of the simpler forms of providing for life, howevindividual picking and gathering can hardly be called common work. 'oir^ assumes that in the strenuouconditions of life in the plains the preparing of shelters, the wattling of tree-dwellings, but chiefly digging of holes created a first necessity for common work and he supposes that the names for this diggand scratching *scharren+ *>+ belong to the oldest roots of language, from which many words of later datecan be derived. If that were the case, then it is 2uite probable that during such scratching and digging-w bits of stone would naturally come into the hands, and that 2uite as naturally these were used as aids a lo period of common work without this very first mechanical aid would seem to be rather unlikely.

ork and implement are not yet distinguished from each other in the first sounds having the character onames the same word acts as a symbol for both. #nly at a later stage of development is a distinction ma between substantive and verb, and the sentences in which the words form replaceable parts begin to tashape. #f course this first forming of words is a collective process an indication by name makes sense onin a mutual understanding. $onse2uently we may say that speech came into existence as a means in commwork with the aid of implements.

D7 Thus the implement has a further influence, as apart from its immediate one, on human thinking. Timplement created speech, and speech, because word-symbols have a meaning, produced the formingclear conceptions and logical thought. This is what ewey has expressed as follows4FThe in%ention and useof tools ha%e pla$ed a large part in consolidating meanings- because a tool is a thing used as a means toconse@uences- instead of being taken directl$ and ph$sicall$7 +t is intrinsicall$ relational- anticipator$-

predicti%e IJ7 The most con%incing e%idence that animals do not think6 is found in the fact that the$ha%e no tools- but depend upon their o,n relati%el$3fi6ed bodil$ structures to effect results7 *0=, p. 0C@+.That is to say that the mechanical aid, though at first it was accidentally taken by the hand, thoughtlesmade use of, and thrown away, finally aroused the consciousness of the aim for which it was applied athereby the accompanying sound also receives a certain meaning and becomes a symbol. 1nd he continuto explain this4FA creature might accidentall$ ,arm itself b$ a fire or use a stick to stir the ground in a ,a$,hich furthered the gro,th of food3plants7 But the effect of comfort ceases ,ith the fire- e6istentiall$5 a sticke%en though once used as a le%er ,ould re%ert to the status of being *ust a stick- unless the relationshipbet,een it and its conse@uence ,ere distinguished and retained7 nl$ language- or some form of artificial

signs- ser%es to register the relationship and make it fruitful in other conte6ts of particular e6istence7 *ib7, p. 0C +.

Thus abstract thinking, speech and the use of tools are inseparately connected. 1nd they remain oined in twhole of the further development4 a differentiation of the tools to special appropriate forms, a differentiaof the language to an ever greater wealth of deduced appropriate words and compound sentences,differentiation of thought to ever further logical abstractions. The perfecting and refining of the tools to emore productive methods of working, the perfecting and refining of language into an ever more ade2umeans of imparting information and of spiritual intercourse, the perfecting and refining of thinking ameans towards an increasing investigation and a higher knowledge of nature and the world around together produce an ever greater wealth of modes and possibilities of life.

E7 That the use of tools has had a determining influence on the origin of speech, is also betrayed in t

anatomical structure of the brains. The speech centre is located in the cerebral cortex at the foot of the th*the lowest+ frontal lobe and its surroundings, as an extension of the motor centres of throat and molocated nearby, and these are situated in the close vicinity of the motor centres of the arm and the hand. Tspeech centre is present in the left-hand hemisphere of the brain only the corresponding parts of the rig

7





other as a condition for its existence and development. The use and the making of tools is not possibwithout both a mental capacity to handle and to invent them, and speech to represent and to indicate theithout the driving power of the tool the spirit would have continued to sleep in unconsciousness, anwords would never have got their definiteness. ithout language a capacity of abstract thinking could nohave developed but the use and development of language presuppose the capacity for thinking.

henever some phenomena are mutually dependent for their existence and growth, they can only develothrough a continuous mutual action. Each phenomenon, each property in living nature, possesses accidenvariations to a certain extent and with a causal relation existing between them a change in the one produc

a corresponding change in the other. Each little improvement in one capacity produces an increase in tother dependent capacities, and this increase reacts again on the first to strengthen it. Thus, under favouraconditions, they must all proceed by little steps, which are continuously following on and propelling eother, each cause and driving force as well as effect and result in a common development. Tools anlanguage were not invented at a certain time the capacity of thinking was not miraculously created, nor it spontaneously come into existence. They grew up from little traces recognisable in animal ancestors, idevelopment which was at first infinitely slow, the beginning of which lies back in the night of primevtimes, far away behind those times in which we see the first visible signs. #nce the development had startit continued ever more 2uickly and more distinctly.

This was, of course, preceded by the formation of the human body, the origin of man as a type of animwhich may be called the biological anthropogenesis. In the paragraph with the titleFAnthropogenesis in theFHand, rterbuch der Natur,issensschaften *$yclopaedia of 'atural /ciences+ only this origin of man as a bodily being is dealt with as being the sole one belonging to the natural sciences4 tools or language arementioned at all. 8laatsch very emphatically made it clear that man must have sprung forth from the origiforms of mammals, since both his teeth and his limbs have retained their primitive forms and were nspecialised for a particular mode of life, as was the case in the other orders of mammals.FThat manremained an unspecialised form and retained his man$3sidedness S in this %er$ fact lies a great deal of the

secret of his e6traordinar$ success IJ his %ictor$ is rooted in this IJ that he retained his hand IJ7 +t isnot so much the fact of ha%ing a hand S there ,as a time ,hen all mammals had a hand S but rather thecircumstance that this organ ,as retained in its original form- and that it could put itself at the ser%ice of anenormous gro,th of the brains- that is the remarkable thing about it *p. = -=C+ *00+. The original form ofthe organism was four-handed, adapted to a life of climbing. The foot came into existence afterwarthrough the transformation of the originally hand-shaped hind limbs *07+.

The impulses must presumably have been given by new circumstances of life, as was probably the regucase in the formation of new species. It is usually assumed that a change in the natural environment droman6s ancestors, who were adapted to living in trees and woods, out into the plains. There the compldifferentiation between hand and foot took place, together with the corresponding upright posture. This mhave been connected with a change in climate, possibly towards the end of the mild Tertiary ?eriod, whthe influence of the approaching ice-period caused the luxuriant woods to disappear. "nder these changconditions of life, with a more difficult food supply and greater dangers, a greater closing of the ranks i

groups and a stronger and continuous co-operation in common work became necessary4 and this process the foundation for the initial use of speech-sounds. 5ere the gripping hand, which was now no longrestricted to any functions of locomotion, found new employment in gripping bits of wood, stones, antlers, where they were met with and could be utilised. This was not necessarily bound to a special hidegree of cephalisation it is 2uite possible that all this already started with the lower stages of cerebdevelopment, in between that of anthropoids and man *09+.

It is also possible ( the causes of mutations are still greatly unknown ( that, conversely, the higher deman put to the brains acted as a stimulant for greater cerebral development. Thus the whole of the large amoun be learned and incorporated in the nerve-connections tended to enlarge the brains, at first by increasing nerve branchings, and later by increasing the number of cortical cells. 1t any rate the cerebral developme

then created a broader basis for the growth of all those forces, while the sharper struggle of life with conse2uent keener selection, contributed in forcing on this development.

7 >









'7 Every investigator is inclined, in the case of mutual dependencies, to look for the primary cause in tfield with which he is best ac2uainted. Thus it is 2uite understandable that most scientists consider thuman mind as the original source and driving force of the entire development. This is the more so, firstly, this mind depends on a material organ, the brains, of which the upward growth in the animal worltaken for granted, and, secondly, as the theory of mutation has made us familiar with the conceptionspontaneous, causeless leaps.FA last ps$chical re%olution IJ is that ,hich is marked b$ the appearance ofman on the face of the earth7 This appearance is surrounded b$ man$ m$steries IJ7 This is simpl$ one ofthe recent opinionsR the earth ,as populated ,ith a multitude of mammals ,hen man appeared on the scene-as a result of a sudden mutation- possessing a h$pertrophied brain S a kind of monster ,hose thinking ,as

to dominate the animal ,orld IJ he disco%ered the fire- he made tools- he emplo$ed language IJ7 Thereis a gap bet,een animal and human intelligence5 + do not think that ,e are read$ to fill in that gap7 ( thusthis conception is stated, strikingly and slightly ironically, by the 3rench biologist Georges Bohn *l7c7, p.99 +. The sudden increase of the cephalisation, and of the number of brain cells, is thereby often regardedthe moving force and sufficient reason for the whole development. e cannot, however, account for theexact brain dimensions re2uired to bring about those changes4 why precisely a brain weight of 0=grammes *at kilos body weight+ was necessary and sufficient whilst that of 0 or grammes whichalready existed was not, and why precisely > billion cortical cells and not half as many or twice as many wneeded to bring about those 2ualitative changes in human thought and action whereby man was so utteseparated from the animal kingdom. There must have been additional forces which then constituted tactual causes.

'othing of such forces is mentioned in the outline given by 3rederick Tilney in his great workFThe Brain from Ape to :an . 5e regards the contrast between the ?rimates *monkeys, apes and men together+ and thother mammals as more essential than that between the anthropoids and man. 5e speaks of theFneokinesisas the new form of movement through thought and deliberation ( as compared to theFpalaeokinesis whichdepends on reflexes ( as a new possibility given by the development of the cerebral cortex. The othmammals however did not sufficiently exploit this.FBut for all their efforts- the$ ,ere surprisingl$unsuccessful in arri%ing at the desired goal7 *p. 0 9>+. They have merely improved their organs oflocomotion and adapted them to soil, air and water their development is constantly terminated in a cul-dsac. FThe$ accepted the earth as the$ found it and left little behind to change its appearance as a result oftheir o,n efforts7 *p. 0 = +. 8laatsch expresses this in a similar manner4FAll these lo,er kinds ofmammals got into a blind alle$ from ,hich no return ,as possible S and no for,ard course either7 *l7c7, p.90+. ith the apes, however, we are on the right track, Tilney continues here the development splits up inttwo branches, of which the one leads to the anthropoids, and the other through special characteristics to m#f the latter he says,FAt least fi%e critical and closel$ interdependent specialisations determine the status ofthe human raceR the appearance L&M of the human brain- L M of the human foot- L M of the human hand LDM ofthe erect posture ,ith bipedal locomotion- and LEM a terrestrial mode of life *p. >7C+.FWhat the underl$ingmoti%e of this critical modification ma$ ha%e been is still clouded in obscurit$7 The increasing ,eight of thebod$ appears to ha%e pla$ed some role in this alteration7 *p. 0 =0+. Aust like the heavy gorilla movesmainly on the ground.FThe factors ,hich ha%e increased the bod$ ,eight IJ are difficult to estimate7 +t is

possible that the endocrine glands had some part in this alteration7 *p. 0 =0+. It must be remarked that thisis not a real explanation, because the problem remains as to why the glands thus came into action. In acase, he continues, a new road was opened thereby4FThe ultimate instrument for e6tending the boundariesof the neokinetic sphere ,as at length assured IJ the neopallium no, proceeded to e6ternalise all of those

potential resources ,hich had so long been held in reser%e a,aiting the arri%al of this ultimate manuale@uipment7 *p. 0 =7+. The author is merely alluding here to the change-over to the life on the plains, wall its conse2uences, without apparently realising that the essential step has still to be taken then.

Fet elsewhere he does show up the significance of the hand4Fit has been the achie%ements of his hands,hich ha%e carried man on,ard7 *p. @+. There are some, he says, who see in the development of the brains, others in the erect locomotion, and again others in speech, the cause of man6s progress. 5owever, him the main thing is the structure of the bodyFbest adapted to e6ternalise the neural energies of the brain7

!uch a fle6ible instrument as the human hand seems pre3eminentl$ fitted for these purposes7 With the brainto direct its action- to e6pand its usefulness- the upright position to gi%e freer range to its e6ecution- ,ith speech to make its accomplishments communal- to introduce the benefits of co3operation5 the hand becamethe master ke$ opening all the ,a$s leading through the ne, and %ast domain of human beha%iour7 *p.

70



D+. That there still remained another problem, the actual problem of the origin of man, and that the hacould do this only by handling the tool, does not find expression here.

The development of the brains as the essential cause of the origin of man is expressly indicated by Ell/mith. F+ ha%e attempted IJ to emphasi#e the undoubted fact that the e%olution of the <rimates and theemergence of the distincti%el$ human t$pe of intelligence are to be e6plained primaril$ b$ a stead$ gro,thand specialisation of certain parts of the brain7 Thus ape and man are taken together here.F:an hasemerged not b$ the sudden intrusion of some ne, element into the Ape4s ph$sical structure or the fabric ofhis mind- but b$ the culmination of those processes ,hich ha%e been operating in the same ,a$ in a long

line of ancestors e%er since the beginning of the Tertiar$ <eriod7 *p. +. 3rom this point of view hisexplanations are full of interesting speculations on the biological foundations that rendered possible macoming into existence.F>nder the guidance of %ision the hands ,ere able to ac@uire skill in action andincidentall$ to become the instruments of an increasingl$ sensiti%e tactile discrimination- ,hich againreacted upon the motor mechanisms and made possible the attainment of $et higher degrees of muscular

skill *p. 0@7+.FThis manual instrument IJ ,as plastic- and could be adapted to almost an$ purpose thebrain directed7 *p. 0@C+.F+f Lthe erect attitudeM IJ liberated the hands from the function of locomotionand so enabled them to attain higher possibilities of skilled action and tactile discrimination- it must not be

forgotten that IJ itself ,as made possible b$ the higher de%elopment of the brain *p. 0D +.F:anualde6terit$ in%ol%es e6perimentation and the process of learning the properties of things and of the forces ofthe ,orld *p. 0D0+. hat he has to perform by means of the skill and the dexterity of his hands,%i#7

working, handling tools, is of course not mentioned once further on *p. 0D0+ cricket, tennis and golfspoken of. Instead of work for life6s maintenance curiosity appears as a driving power4Fthis completer%ision of ob*ects in the outside ,orld stimulated a curiosit$ to e6amine and to handle them IJ7 *p. 0@9+.

'either does speech afford a problem.FWhen IJ it became possible for the indi%idual to distinguish sharpl$ one ob*ect from another and to appreciate its manifold properties- the time had arri%ed ,hen the process of naming it ac@uired a definite biological %alue IJ7 +n other ,ords- once it became possible torecognise a particular ob*ect it became useful to in%ent a label for it7 :an4s ancestors ,ere alread$

pro%ided ,ith the muscular instruments for speech and the abilit$ to use them for the emission of a %ariet$ of signals IJ7 *p. 0@=+.FAll that ,as needed to put this complicated machiner$ to the ne, purpose ,as :an4s enhanced po,ers of discrimination to appreciate the usefulness of communicating more intimatel$,ith his fello,s and to de%ise the necessar$ s$mbolism7 *p. 0 9+. In short, when his intellect had increasedsufficiently to realise the benefit of speech, man commenced to speak. Though one cannot say that thsimple statement of the process is incorrect, yet the amount of truth in it cannot open up furthunderstanding of the problem the actual operating forces remain out of sight.

By Audson 5errick too, in the lines 2uoted on page D9 Mthesis 90N, no distinction is made between maape in their reactions both stand together here in contrast to the lower mammals.F+n a similar ,holl$unfamiliar situation an ape and a man must learn the same ,a$ IJ he is likel$ to pause and ,ait for an6inspiration6to gi%e the necessar$ orientation7 This ma$ come in a flash IJ or the man Lnot sure about theapeM ma$ think it o%er s$stematicall$- make a mental anal$sis and 6figure it out67 *7@, p. 77C+. 5ere a

difference is drawn, briefly, as in doubt, more 2uantitatively than 2ualitatively. In a brief summary illustrates the origin of man in the following words4FWhen an arboreal primate came do,n from the shelterof the treetops he must protect himself b$ concealment- b$ ac@uiring great strength- or b$ his ,its IJ7 The

first t,o ,a$s ,ere not %er$ successful under modern conditions7 :ost of those ,ho tried them are no,e6tinct IJ7 But ,its sur%i%ed7 ut of the partnership of a good brain and a hand fashioned for making andusing tools primiti%e man emerged *p. 0D7+. 5ere the tools are mentioned. its in their specifically humanform clearly are regarded here as practically identical to the good brain, in which, as we saw, the neurologis only able to discover a 2uantitative progress. If we consider that even now the propaganda and the geneacceptance of simple arwinism, postulating the continuity of the development from animal to man, stmeets with difficulties, it can be understood that the attention of biologists is not easily directed towards fundamental 2ualitative difference between ape and man, and that the origin of man as a special proble

does not come to the fore.(7 eviating from this neurological way of viewing the matter, the German anthropologist 5ans einertfinds the origin of man in the single, special discovery of fire *09+.FWhen- ,h$ and in ,hich manner- then-

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)7 'aturally, hardly any tangible relics exist of this first period of the origin of man, which could serve aexperimental data for our knowledge. They do however exist for subse2uent periods of further developmeand consist chiefly of stone implements and such fossili%ed remains of man himself as bones and skulls. former are lacking for the earliest period of primeval times. There is a difference of opinion as to whether eolithes of <utot and of !oir from the ?re-chellean had already been fashioned by human workmanship, owhether they were simply chosen and used as shaped and flaked by natural causes. #f course a period stones not worked by man must have preceded the period of worked stones and it stands to reason that cannot state with certainty whether they have been used by man.

It is different with the fossile remains of man himself. There are, however, very few remains of formintermediate between the most highly developed ape-like ancestor * ryopithecus+ and the most primitihuman being, which would bridge-over the intermediate four or more stages of cephalisation. /ince thwere discovered in more recent times only, we may expect more of them from further careful investigatioThe earliest will then have to illustrate especially the development of the human body as the biologiorigin of man. ?robably one may regard as such 1ustralopithecus of Taungs and of /terkfontein, the braiweight of which is estimated to have been =@ grams, a low, hardly more than ape-like cephalisatiwhereas the set of teeth already shows human characteristics. #n the other hand, ?ithecanthropus an/inanthropus, having a brain-weight amounting to > and >> grams, stand only one small cephalisationstage below man. 5ere one should reckon with the possibility of finding the first traces of the essentiahuman characteristics.

The casts of the inside of the skull remnant of the ?ithecanthropus on which the grooves and windings of brain surface are faintly visible, supply us with a few indications about the structure of the brains. 3rom strongly developcd frontal lobe Tilney deduces an already considerable spiritual development.FThe frontallobe appears as a particularl$ conspicuous portion of the hemisphere7 +t is prominent especiall$ because ofits large si#e and pronounced con%olutions7 *p. C 7+.FThe =a%an man must ha%e possessed increased

po,ers of adapted reasoning7 *p. C @+. The certainty of this conclusion, however, apart from what wremarked in 0C, is reduced by his preceding statement4FThe position and disposition of the 9olandic

fissure Lthe boundar$ of the frontal lobeM assigned to the brain of pithecanthropus depend more ondeduction and analog$ than actual indications on the cast7 *p. C 0+. 3urther there is an asymmetry in theseconvolutions.FThe left lobe of the =a%an man is slightl$ larger than the right- ,hich is probabl$ indicati%eof unide6terit$ *p. C =+.F+t is probable that in his manual de6terit$ he ,as right3handed5 at least the

greater si#e of his left frontal lobe suggests that his brain had singled out one hand as the chiefrepresentati%e for e6ternali#ing acti%ities7 This in itself is a distinctl$ human character7 $ontrary to thisopinion his British colleague Elliot /mith deduced *from the distinct right-hand sulcus lunatus + the exactopposite4Fthere can be no doubt that this earliest kno,n human being ,as also left3handed . *l7c7 p. 0C=+.

#f greater importance is the problem raised by Tilney6s further conclusion4FBut the prominence of hisinferior frontal con%olution strongl$ suggests that he added one supreme ad%antage to the motor e@uipmentof animal life7 He had learned to speak S to communicate in %erbal language7 *p. C @+. This opinion,however, is not accepted by more careful neurologists. Thus 1riens 8appers says4Fnothing can be said

about a special de%elopment of the left subregio frontalis inferior of Brodmann *which in man contains thespeech centre+in <ithecanthropus and further on4F,e ha%e no morphological e%idence for assuming a speciall$ de%eloped operculum frontale and speech centre on the left hemisphere7 *p. 77@, 77C+. #n othergrounds,%i# from the considerable expansion *Fsudden e6pansion + of the association-field next to thetemporal lobes, Elliot /mith thinks that we may deduce an understanding of sound-symbolism, therefoalso a capacity for speech.FThe most primiti%e member of the .amil$ had alread$ ac@uired some sort of

speech *l7c7 p. 0 7+. It does seem permissible to doubt that these proofs have convincing force.

In the case of /inanthropus, a great number of skulls were first discovered lying together, and this gave rito theories about ritual ceremonies, which were abandoned, however, when at a later stage other parts of skeleton were discovered. In the same layer a number of roughly worked stones were found, and al

charcoal and other traces of fire.FTraces of artificial fire IJ are so clear and abundant that the$ re@uireonl$ to be mentioned ,ithout an$ further demonstration7 * 0a%idson Black , 0 , p. 0 >+. /ome experts, as forinstance the 3rench anthropologist !. Boule, have expressed a doubt as to whether these remains of culturand the skulls actually belonged together, or whether the skulls were too primitive to belong to those w

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had manipulated the stones and the fire *cf. 0a%idson Black , 3ossile !an in $hina, p. 09=+. This cannot besettled until further remains are discovered.

3rom the cast made of the inside of one of the skulls Black concludes that /inanthropus was right-handeand had a capacity for speech4FA stud$ of the endocranial cast of !inanthropus has made it clear that thebrain of this form ,as in all essentials a t$picall$ human one7 +t is further probable that !inanthropus ,asright3handed and had e%ol%ed the ner%ous mechanism for the elaboration of articulate speech7 *ib. p. 009+.F<robable only, because a few pages back it was said that a detailed discussion from the point of view Fanthropological neurolog$ had not yet been made known. 1lthough in cephalisation standing on a level

with ?ithecanthropus, /inanthropus, owing to the characteristics of the skull, is mostly regarded as beinalready a transition to the later 'eandertal !an. 1ccording to the geological layers in which the discoveredremains were embedded, the age of ?ithecanthropus and /inanthropus is usually set at anything betwee@ , and 9 , years ago, which in climatic periods corresponds to the second or first ice-period, orthe intermediate and following warmer period.

D 7 'aturally we do not possess any empirical datum about the other human characteristics of these firsforms of man, such as their spiritual life and their language. #f course, the extent of their logical thinkiand of their speech in those first hundred thousands of years certainly was of a primitiveness far beyond reali%ation we do not possess any point of comparison for this first awakening. It has been thougespecially by philologists, that the lowest types of human races known to us, with their mode of life, ththinking and their speaking, could serve, although with a certain amount of extrapolation, as examples original primitive man. But against that the 3rench linguist elacroix has long since uttered a warning4FThelinguist has al,a$s to deal ,ith highl$ de%eloped languages- ,hich ha%e a considerable past behind them-about ,hich ,e kno, nothing at all7 *p. 07C+. 1nd againFWe ha%e abandoned asking the sa%ages7 Theirlanguages ha%e a histor$7 The$ are no primiti%es- their languages are not primiti%e7 *p. 09>+.

In later years a particular theory has come into evidence, among others vigorously defended by the utclinguist Kan Ginneken * "a rOconstruction t$pologi@ue des langues archaei@ues de l4humanitO +. This theoryexpostulates that Early !an possessed a language of signs only, and not one of sounds4Fthe sign languageis the first natural language of the human race *p. 0=@+. It is based chiefly on the significance and widextension of the language of gestures, among the most different primitive i.e. uncivili%ed peoples, as st by H^vy-Bruhl and others. There are gestures which are instinctively understood by all, and which are u by explorers as a first means of understanding with foreign peoples. In the case at hand, however, it concea far more elaborated system of gestures with the hands and of postures of the body, in which throughcombination of signs for simple conceptions a great wealth of ideas can Mwas4 vanN be represented. It sas a means of intercourse between the natives in 1ustralia and in 1frica, while it is also extensively used 1merica. <ed Indians of the various tribes, who did not understand each other6s language of sounds, couin this manner converse for hours with each other. 3rank $ushing discovered a system of making gesturfor mutual intercourse, in use with the Punis, which was closely associated with their common work represented this by the termFmanual concepts .

!ust we conclude, then, from this general concurring together of the language of sounds and that ogestures, that the latter must have preceded the former: That a language of gestures is more primitive thanspoken language does not imply that it was the first language of primitive Early !an. e have to considerhere that there are two meanings of the term primitive, which are often confused. 1gainst this confusiHevy-Bruhl himself has protested vigorously in hisFHerbert !pencer lecture he calls this termFun motmalheureu6 , because it provokes the misconception that by this name men should be indicatedFstill near-or at least more near than ,e are- to the original condition of the human societ$ and that- in the present,orld- the$ represent our most distant ancestors *7>, p. 7D+. 5e does not mean these ancestors originalman,Fprimiti%e in an etymological senseFis unkno,n to us- and there are %er$ fe, chances of us e%er

getting to kno, him . hat he means by Fprimiti%e corresponds to what was formerly calledFsa%age 4 men who in fact areFnot more Xprimiti%e than we are, but belonging to a societyF,hich is

called inferior or less ci%ilised *7>, p. +. Thus it is rightly stated by H^vy-Bruhl. #f course gestures andsounds both have played a role as indications in the earliest times, as they did with animals, and as theystill now with ourselves but they do not constitute a language. 1s to the language of gestures4 would it be far more obvious to see in its intensive use a later means of mutual intercourse where, through a f

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reaching differentiation of the language of sounds and many thousands of years of migrations, races with most varied languages were thoroughly mixed together: Instead of the most primitive form it could then on the contrary, in this developed form, a product of the development of human speech which was alreafar advanced. 3urther, when one points to the many traces of this language of gestures in later cultur periods as remnants of prehistoric times *as e.g. the silent ?ythagoreans+ then we should consider that th pre-historic times were already an aftermath of many hundreds of centuries of development of culture andlanguage.

The theory put forward by Kan Ginneken, however, has a wider scope. 5e stated that the first form of t

language of sounds consisted ofFclicks , produced by drawing in air, that these were afterwards replaced byconsonant-words, formed during exhalation, and that these in turn were completed by filling them witdiversity of vowels. 'onlinguists cannot of course express an opinion about this theory. The languages ogestures then are supposed to have preceded the &click) languages. The first reproduction in writinghieroglyphics, it says to have originated from the gestures-language. These hieroglyphics are not simimages of things but mainly of postures and gestures. This is clearly recogni%able in the original $hinwriting. 1s is generally known, the $hinese characters *written signs+ do not represent words or sounds, conceptions, so that they are read differently in provinces with different languages, but are understood byin the same way.

They form a common language for a large cultural area, which can only be written, or rather brushed, anot spoken. #ther cultured peoples extending their dominion imposed their language as the commolanguage upon the peoples taken up in their sphere of influence. The ruling mandarins of $hina, howevwere content to have a written means of intercourse. This, though, is differently interpreted by KGinneken, in accordance with the $hinese linguist Tchang Tcheng-!ing4 the characters in the ancient texwere not pronounced at all; /peech only came about at a much later date.F>ntil this moment there is not a

shado, of an oral language or e%en acoustic signs in all the Chinese characters IJ if there had been anoral language- or click3,ords ,e should ha%e found some trace of them7 *p. 0 =+. 1t this point one maywell ask what these traces would look like:

The same holds good for the written languages in Egypt and !esopotamia, where at first the signs werhieroglyphics, illustrating things and postures. #nly later, in such simplified forms as cuneiform script, dthey ac2uire sound-values and represent sounds, hence becoming syllables or letters. This is explained hin such a way that the spoken language originated in that later period only, and that all human intercou preceding that time consisted of gestures.F ur re%ie, therefore has gi%en us this rather remarkable result-that all the s$stems of ,riting ,hich are kno,n to us from the earliest da$s- are follo,ing throughout their

first three periods entirel$ the model of a language of gestures- ,hich therefore preceded hierogl$phics7 Ande%identl$ it ,as onl$ ,ith the aid and the support of hierogl$phic languages- ,hich possessed a dictionar$alread$- a grammar and a s$nta6- that in the ad%anced ci%ili#ations ,ith the aid of inter*ected Fclicks the

spoken languages came about IJ7 *p. 079+.FNo, our re%ie, has sho,n that the spoken languagesappeared in the histor$ of mankind onl$ round the $ear E B7C at its earliest7 *p. 07=+.

3or making such a momentous deduction the argument and the material seem to be rather weak, to pumildly. There must be far more stringent reasons to make anyone believe that the human race, from beginning and during its development, remained mute in the sense that it was without any capacity speech, for hundreds of thousands of years, and that only 2uite recently, at the rise of civili%ation, spolanguages would have come into existence and this whilst, to udge by the closest animal relatives, oancestors were capable of producing different sounds. !oreover, if the spoken languages of civilised peoploriginated from and through the written language, how then did the many spoken languages of uncivili peoples originate: e may be sure that the two most opposite opinions ( that the ?ithecanthropus wouldhave already spoken, and that highly developed man at a later stage could not yet speak until shortly befthe rise of civili%ation ( are assertions depending rather on enthusiastic fantasy than on trustworthy proof

*. The principle of progressD&7 hat distinguishes man from the animals, apart from the points already discussed here, is hisdevelopment, is his progress. 5e is the only animal species that, from the very moment he came in

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existence, has been continuously changing and during a continuous process has become a different beingthe animal world too there is development but here in such a way that new species have made thappearance and old species have disappeared. Each species has always remained practically unchangthroughout its whole period of existence of hundreds of thousands or perhaps millions of years for animal species there is a coming into existence and a perishing, but there is no history. #nly man hascontinuous history. 5is history is one of a constant advance and unfolding, at an increasingly rapid rat3rom a geological point of view it only covers a very short period.FAnd then- some ( - $ears ago-relati%el$ $esterda$- a ne, thing- a tool IJ- a stone shaped b$ and for the human hand- and a ne, animal

sound- %oices talking7 *!herrington , p. 0C+. Expressed in this reduced scale of time a few decades for th

evolution of the animal world and a few weeks for the bodily origin of man would have preceded this sinday, while civili%ation would have originated little more than one hour ago, and the industrial transformaof man and earth of the last century would have taken a couple of minutes. ith the rise of the animaspecies Homo sapiens , a new principle came into the world. It introduced instead of a slow biologicadevelopment through the origin of ever new species, a fast development, increasing in speed exponentialwithin this one persisting species.

hence this new principle: e can immediately perceive that it roots in the possession of tools. The greatchange was the substitution of the animal organ by the human tool. Both serve the same purpose of enablthe living being to ensure its food and life, and to carry on the struggle for life. arwin has shown that in thstruggle for life the weakest specimens, being unsuited to the environment, were exterminated, and tfittest, being the best adapted, survived and transplanted their better 2ualities on to their progeny. The fitare the best e2uipped what is selected and what they transplant is their e2uipment, the apparatus with whthey carry on the struggle. They fight with their organs, using the excellence of their noses and their teetheir eyes and their paws. The struggle is fought out between the organs, and the better organs win. Thwhich is improved and developed in this struggle, through elimination of the less suited, are those essenorgans needed for life. In the case of the animal these organs are part of the body they are sub ect biological laws of heredity and variation. Therefore they can alter and improve only with the barenoticeable slowness imposed by these laws. If these organs have altered essentially the entire animal h become a new species.

In the case of man these organs became tools, dead things which are not part of the body, and can be fluaside at any moment and replaced. !an fights the struggle for life with tools *as was previously pointed oweapons too are tools+ the struggle is fought out between tools, and the better tools and weapons win. the tool which is improved and developed in this struggle, which selects by elimination of the less suitThis development is not tied to the body, and is not therefore sub ect to biological laws. The speed of madevelopment is e2ual to the speed with which new tools can be invented and made. The body, once itformed with its brain structure, hand, and organ of speech, thereby remains the same. The slowness biological development, which reckons with thousands of centuries, has been replaced by the speed of technical development, the history of which is written at first with hundreds and with tens of centuriafterwards with hundreds, at last with tens of years. 3rom the palaeontological and biological point of viead usting our ga%e to that time scale, we see on earth a gradual growth of the animal and plant ldeveloping into ever newer, richer, higher and more perfect forms, until suddenly the development en because with stupendous speed this monkey-breed rises to divine power and becomes master of the earth.

!aster of the earth indeed, for now possession could be taken of the whole world. Each animal by havincertain organs is ad usted to a certain mode of life and natural environment, outside of which it cannot !an, by taking in his hand diverse kinds of tools, disposes over every possible kind of organ. ith the aid ofthese he can make himself conform to all modes of life in any natural surroundings. Thus he could adhimself to all climates, spreading out over every continent in each place differentiating his tools, weapoactivity, food, clothing, and general mode of life according to local conditions. Bodily he has remain practically unchanged his adaptability lay in his possession of artificial organs, in the shape of tools, whwere adapted without the body being re2uired to change.

The biological development of the preceding millions of years is then indeed closed. Through tdifferentiability of tools, man becomes the e2ual in power of any animal but through the perfectibilitytools he becomes the superior in power of any animal. By improving his tools and weapons he con2uers

70D



existence, a process which took of course periods lasting for hundreds of thousands of years. 5owevduring these same periods and in these species the first use of tools appears. In time this developed intdeliberate construction, probably involving also the first forms of speech, a looming self-consciousness, aa beginning of human thinking. These now became means in the struggle between better and less we2uipped groups. The species that had been adapted to the harsher conditions of the earliest time by a m powerful build, succumbed to the better techni2ue and the better intellect of the 5omo sapiens. hen finallthere remained, though in different races, this one species as the best e2uipped, a more rapid developmentools sets in under a fierce mutual struggle, now the pure working of the new technical principle.

Through the techni2ue of polishing the stone implements, in the neolithic period, these ac2uired a sharpnand strength already comparable with those of later times. 'ow they differentiate into an abundance osuitable forms, and become more effective for fashioning wood and bone into all kinds of utensils, and iweapons for the hunt and for war. 'ow man through his axe and his bow and arrow gains the upper hanover bear and lion now trees can be hewn and dwellings built, now the potteries appear, now thinkiexpands and becomes more inventive, now animals are tamed and plants are cultivated. Thus the transitfrom the first to the second stage of culture took place, of the three distinguished by Hewis 5. !organ asavagery, barbarism, and civili%ation in his bookFAncient !ociet$ . 1griculture and cattle-breeding ensurean easier and more dependable livelihood than hunting and gathering, and afford a greater physicdevelopment and strength4 now for the first time it can be said that man has somewhat mastered natuhen then stone as a material for tools is replaced by metal, which is the ideal material for tools, being lee

brittle than stone and also capable of being formed into an infinite variety of shapes, the future pathunending development has been opened up for techni2ue.

D 7 1s to thinking in these prehistoric stages of culture, a comparison with the present day uncivili% peoples may supply a certain amount of information. hereas we cannot or can hardly conclude from thes peoples anything on the state of Early !an in his first periods of existence, we can learn a lot from themabout the conditions which preceded civili%ation this transition is the step which they did not take. 1t othen it is obvious that not only the techni2ue of labour, but e2ually, and still more so, the social organi%atwith its strong community-feeling, dominates the spiritual life. 3or the use of tools operates as a barconscious force, whereas the social community occupies the entire consciousness. The thinking of primit people then is not simply a feeble beginning of modern ob ective rigid logic it is a different, a sub ectkind of thinking, a more fantastic and emotional form of combining the phenomena. ?art therein is playedthe doubling of the personality in the life of dreams, as well as by the socially bound-up organi%ation ostrong forces of sexual life, and by the community of work which is ensured by a powerful group-sen/piritual life takes the form of animism, the humani%ation of the world all things are man-like, animatedlong as techni2ue is the subconscious basis, and the social community the conscious basis for the worldman, this manner of thinking, in many embodiments, continues to determine his spiritual life.

?rimitive man cannot be content with having his abstract conceptions in the form of spiritual ideas only tstrongly do they affect his life. 5e has them as word-symbols and often the word possesses a magic powfor him. The need to have them as something more tangible, results in their identification with things

permanent symbols, present besides the fleeting word, which symbols are then supposed to be the sourcethis power. Thus appear numerous ob ects of veneration, sacred ob ects, paraphernalia of rites, sacrificutensils, totems, images, amulets. These are used in ritual acts, in ceremonies and at feasts, in which trelationship between man and the surrounding world is expressed in symbolical forms. They occupy important part of his time and thoughts, because in these he asserts himself in an active manner, by meansvotive offerings, exorcisms, witchcraft and sorcery, by magic in general, or by other more efficient methoIn this way the relations which control the life of prehistoric as well as of later uncivili%ed man as mysterspiritual powers, are transformed into tangible practice.

DD7 The transition to the third cultural period, that of civili%ation, is usually assumed to be connected withorigin of writing the beginning of written history closes the prehistoric period. Hanguage as a means

understanding, deliberation, and co-operation within the community ac2uires a new and wider formexpression. Besides the spoken and heard word there is now also the written and read word, bridging odistances, and fixing the transitory sound that disappears the moment it has been pronounced, in remainvisible sign-symbols. The hand ac2uires a new function besides the tools it handles to replace anim

70C



were obtained from practical experience in agriculture and cattle-breeding and physical and chemicknowledge from the treatment of the products, from spinning, weaving, and preparing foods, from pottery techni2ue and the treatment of metals. ith civili%ation as the dominion of the written languaglogical thinking ac2uires the power to formulate all this knowledge into science consisting of abstraconceptions and laws of nature, and moreover to fix the method of science in general forms.

The history of civili%ation was not one smooth curve of progressive development. /everal times a fresh shad to be made, first in the early #riental 1nti2uity, then in the ancient Greco-<oman civili%ation, and agin the !iddle 1ges, before a social organi%ation was found which possessed inner strength, extent, an

possibilities of development to a sufficient degree. #nce these obtained, a gradual upward movement startintroducing the 'ew 1ge, where the need for a greater product of labour became the driving force fortechnical and scientific progress. The re2uirements of techni2ue strain the ingenuity of pondering minds, the experimental investigation of nature creates in the 0 th and 0Cth centuries mechanics and the theoryheat as a basis for the rise of industry. "nder the social forms of freedom of enterprise and capitalismindustrial competition becomes a battle of tools, in which the better machine wins and replaces and destrothe less productive small tool. In this way the machine techni2ue of modern big industry grew rapidly in0>th century, borne by an intensive investigation of nature which was thereby stimulated, and con2uered whole world ( the second con2uest after the first made by Early !an with the early tool ( and is now awork organi%ing the whole of humanity into one social community.

D'7 'atural science, which in its development runs parallel with the rising exponential curve of thdevelopment of mankind, is a living proof of the close connection existing between tools and thinki 'atural science is rightly considered to be the field in which human thinking, in a continuous series otriumphs, has developed its logical forms of conception most powerfully, and has applied its capacity abstraction most purely. Thus it proceeded with a firm tread towards an increasing certainty of knowledand became a guide in the method of thinking for other fields of thought. 3urther, it is clear to anyone tnatural science has developed to this height due to its continual mutual reactions with technicre2uirements, i.e. with labour and trade. #n the reverse, as a counter proof, at the other extreme stands tlarge field of human actions and relationships in which the use of tools does not play an immediate role, works only in the dim distance as the deepest unknown and invisible foundation ( the field of the soc phenomena. There thought and action are determined mostly by passion and impulse, by arbitrariness aimprovidence, by tradition and belief there no methodical logic leads to a certainty of knowledge therelacking the firm tread of recogni%ed unanimous progress there we see opposing opinions and systereturning again and again to the same problems.

1mong the many who have given expression to this contrast between these two realms of spiritual life, may 2uote here from the 1merican historian Hynn Thorndike6s work on medieval magic and science.FArethere other sides of our life and thought to3da$ ,here magic still lingers and no such march as that ofmodern natural and e6perimental science has begun or progressed so far2 We fear that there are7 ne can,ell imagine that a future age ma$ regard much of the learning e%en of our time as almost as futile-

superstitious- fantastic in method- and irrele%ant to the ends sought- as ,ere primiti%e man4s methods of

producing rain- ?g$ptian amulets to cure disease- or medie%al blood3letting according to the phases of themoon7 IJ We might carr$ our comparison from the ,orld of scholarship- ,hich at least displa$s industr$and ingenuit$ in its superstitions- to the cruder and la#ier conceptions and assumptions of social and ci%illife7 ften enough has the connection of religion ,ith magic been pointed out- but ,hat side of life is therethat is free from it2 IJ r ,ho can mar%el at past belief in the magic po,er of ,ords- ,ho hears statesmen

speak and millions shout of :ilitarism- Nationalit$- 0emocrac$- <rohibition- !ocialism and Bolshe%iki2What fears- ,hat hopes- ,hat passions- ,hat pre*udices- ,hat sacrifices these ,ords elicit And ho, littleagreement there is as to their meaning IJ let us measure the amount of magic in present ci%ili#ation b$

<lotinus4 standard :easuring our age b$ such a standard- ,e shall be tempted to cr$ out5 magic of magics-all is magic What else is there to ,rite about2 At least one thing- and that is e6perimental science7 +t al,a$sis making ac@uisitions and ne%er gro,s less5 it e%er ele%ates and ne%er degenerates5 it is al,a$s clear and

ne%er conceals itself7 *II, pp. > >->C7+.The world of conscious logical thought only occupies a certain section of modern spiritual life besidethere is a larger, though decreasing section where the impulses and instincts inherited from the animal wo

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and the former periods of human culture dominate spirit and life. It is not difficult to perceive that here tin modern times, the same contrast operates as under primitive conditions4 the social relationships fillconsciousness and leave only part of the field for the technical influences. They find their expression alsotheory and science. Thus, over and against the method of formation of abstract conceptions and their cauconnection, recogni%ed in natural science, a totally different and own method is claimed for and proclaim by the spiritual sciences. This appears in the doctrine that for the history of mankind the combining of multiplicity of phenomena into abstract, general rules and causal laws is impossible, since it consistsevents which have taken place only once. In the world of man it is not the cause but the aim whidetermines the event. It is not causality which rules, but teleology if we speak of a general law here, it is

the law ofFit must but the law ofFthou shalt , the moral law. This doctrine formulated in the beginning ofthe 7 th century chiefly by ilthey, <ickert and indelband, has since found, under the name ofFhistorism , a wide adherence.FThe kernel of historism consists in the replacing of a generali#ingconsideration of historical3human forces b$ an indi%iduali#ing consideration7 * :einecke , p. 7+. Thus itappears that where tools are not used for labour or experiment, or simply are not seen, the consciousnesscausal connections as a form of thinking remains feeble that where man is seen acting as an apparently frwilled being in society, bound only by the weakened ties of ethics to the community, thinking and inferenalso follow other paths. This implies, however, that once the social fabric will be linked, directly and visito all, with techni2ue and labour, this difference looses its basis and the method of natural science will extended over the spiritual sciences.

The contrast appearing here, with perfection on the one hand and imperfection on the other, means that mcontrols the forces of nature, or is going to do so in ever greater measure, but that he does not yet control forces of will and passion which are in himself.FWhere he has stood still- perhaps e%en fallen behind- is inthe manifest lack of control o%er his o,n Xnature4 *Tilne$ , l7c7 p. >97+. This is, clearly, why society is stillso much behind science. ?otentially man has mastery over nature. But he does not yet possess mastery ovhis own nature. 5ow is he to ac2uire this:

D(7 It would not be astonishing if it should appear to neurologists, ( because they consider the growth of t brains to be the main cause for the origin of man, and because they are familiar with the sudden increasescephali%ation as a factor in development, ( that salvation out of this contradiction can be expected othrough a further growth in the same direction. 1 further development and increase of the brains, whiwould mean the next step to a higher, degree of cephali%ation, with a corresponding increase of the mecapacities, will then have to discard the imperfection which is harassing humanity. 1 cautious indication this may be seen in the final consideration in Tilney6s already 2uoted work.F<ercei%ed in this ,a$- it is

possible to sense the full force of the impetus in that irresistible momentum ,hich has carried the great%ertebrate ph$llum up,ard and on,ard through the ages and ma$ still carr$ us on,ard IJ +s there still a

possibilit$ of further e%ol%ing in the de%elopmental process so clearl$ seen in the brain of the primates- soob%iousl$ reaching its present culmination in the brain of man S is there still a latent po,er in the humanbrain for the e6pression of $et unsuspected potentialities and beneficial progress2 This is a @uestion ,hichma$ not be @uickl$ read or soon forgotten7 There is an undeniable insistenc$ about it as it calls attention tothe palpable imperfections in human organi#ation7 Ans,ered in the negati%e- to ,hat continuingdiscouragement does it not commit the race5 ans,ered in the affirmati%e- ,ith ,hat inspiring e6pectationsma$ ,e not look to the future of mankind *l7c7 0 ==-=@+.

1gainst this opinion it should be remarked that man as an animal species, Homo sapiens , has only existedfor some tens of thousands of years, that his civili%ation in its first appearance in restricted regions d back some thousands of years only, that the rapid rise of industrial techni2ue and natural science is merone or two centuries old, and that hence he is still in the first beginnings of his course. $onsidered from point of morphology, in bodily structure, in cephali%ation, he has not changed thereby in actual powehas risen more and more 2uickly to a more and more complete command over his conditions of life. ithis now all at once come to a halt: #n the contrary, he is ust beginning. There is every reason to regarwhat up till now he has experienced and done merely as an introduction to his future actual history. T

possibilities of his spiritual apparatus, his brain organ, have not yet by far been exhausted the necessity fohigher degree of cephali%ation has not yet exhausted at all. Thee crisis through which we are passihowever it may have come about, shows the characteristics of being one of the last convulsions in t process of mankind growing together into one self-controlling world community. Hack of capability as ye

777



stuttering has no direct relation whatsoever to forcing children with a left-hand preference into righandedness MEd.N.

00. 1lthough Bolk gives hisFfetalisation theor$ as merely ontogenetic, and not phylogenetic, the view isimplied that even among the ?rimates man has kept the primitive character more than the others, as tcentral branch in the family tree, and thus has preserved possibilities of development which the mospecialised forms of apes have lost.

07. #n the recapitulation- and fetalisation-theories, and on the argumentation about specialisation, se

#ntogeny and ?hylogeny V /tephen Aay Gould. ( $ambridge !assachusetts, Hondon 4 5arvard "niversity?ress, 0> . ( @ 0 p. MEd.N.

09. In his studyF0er Antheil der Arbeit an der :ensch,erdung des Affen *The role of labour in thetransformation of ape into man+, a sketch written probably about 0C C, found among his papers afterdeath and published 0C>D inF0ie Neue 1eit , IK, 7, 3riedrich Engels points out the importance of labourfor the formation of the human hand.F!o the hand is not onl$ the organ of labour but also its product7 nl$through labour- through adaptation to e%er ne, acti%ities- through inheritance of the thus ac@uired specialde%elopment of the muscles- tendons and also- o%er longer periods- of the bones- and through e%er ne,application of the inherited refinement upon e%er ne, acti%ities- the human hand ac@uired that high degreeof perfection b$ ,hich it could produce 9afael pictures- Thor,aldsen statues and <aganini music7 *l7c7, p.@= +.

0=. 1ccording to the now generally accepted computations of !. !ilankowit% * :athematische ;limalehre +the first ice-period *G n%+ existed D -@@ , years ago, the second *!indel+ 0C -09 , years, the thirdor penultimate *<iss+ 79 -0C , years, each with two separate minima of temperature4 whereas the larm+ existed from 07 , until 7 , years ago with three coldest periods separated by warmer periods.

The next ice-period would then have to be expected in about @ , years to come.

0@. Kan den Broek sees in the chin especially the place where the mimic facial muscles are attached, walso play a role in the forming of the wordsounds *1.A.?. van den Broek,%er het ontstaan %an spraak en

schrift *#n the origin of speech and writing+, Geneeskundige Bladen 97 <eeks, , p. 7C>, 0>9=+.

S&mmar(

There are three characteristics, which, to a great extent, distinguish man from the animals abstract think by means of conceptions, speech, and the use of tools fashioned by himself. The problem of anthropogeneis to find out how, from the small traces of analogous properties in animals, these 2ualitatively entiredifferent human characteristics could develop.

1nimals too make use of dead ob ects to suit their own purposes, but only man shapes them into tooaccording to a conscious plan. The tool in the human hand performs the same function as the bodily organ

the animal. The grasping hand was a necessary condition for the manipulating of tools and this was inherifrom the arboreal life of man6s ancestors. /ocial life was another condition for the use of tools, because oin communities could it be preserved and knowledge about it thus be transferred to the next generatioBecause the tool is a separate and dead ob ect it can easily be replaced when damaged, interchanged fo better one, and differentiated into a multiplicity of forms for various uses. It can be improved upcontinually by new inventions, thus raising man into increasing superiority above the animals.

1nimals too have consciousness and a certain intelligence. The stimulus of bodily needs and senimpressions induce direct action as a response. In man this direct connection is broken the impressions collected in the mind, and afterwards action comes spontaneously. Thinking follows a detour, or rather madetours which must be compared numbers of images interpose between impressions and actions, formichains of ideas that are ob ects of observation by our own consciousness, and take the character of abstrconcepts. In the brain the distinction between man and animal appears only as a 2uantitative difference brainweight of man *for the same body si%e+ is four times larger than with the anthropoids, and so i

77=



surface of the cortex. hether the frontal lobes, usually considered as the organ of abstract reasoning, arrelatively larger in man is uncertain.

1nimals utter sounds of emotion, which in social groups serve as signals of warning and communication.man these sounds are words, auditory symbols conventionally designating 2uite different things, names ob ects and actions. They constitute a language, a perfect and complicated apparatus of intercourse servfor co-ordination of action. /peech is an organ of community that can only originate and exist in community, as a condition of collaborate activity and fight it embodies and preserves the ever increasimass of knowledge. It can only exist with a certain faculty for thinking on the other hand human thinki

would not be possible without speech. $oncepts can be formed and retained only by expressing them names and words conscious thinking is always speaking with one self by means of words.

The use of tools was an important factor in the origin of human thinking. The tool interposes itself betworganism and outer world, between stimulus and action. It compels action, and hence thinking, to makdetour, from the sense impression via the tool to the ob ect. Because there are many tools there are madetours, and a choice must be made after following out all of them in the mind before acting. The separat between the construction of the tool beforehand and its use afterwards produces a separation in the men processes and makes theoretical thinking a distinctive activity. The tool ob ectivates the previousinstinctive action, and by the visible results of its working awakens consciousness of the concept causality. /peech too was greatly induced by the use of tools. /ince a tool was alternately ob ect and part othe sub ect it struck the attention first of all as a separate ob ect and by its importance for labour and lsome sound, accompanying action which involved its use, became attached to it. These dependencies ashown by the anatomical fact that in the cortex the speech centre is formed only in that hemisphere whinnervates and directs the hand holding the tools. 3or most people this is the left hemisphere, whereas left-handed people it is the right hemisphere.

Because these three special human characteristics are all dependent on one another they could develop ontogether. This they did from mere traces, each in common growth mutually strengthening the others, aeach by its small increment inducing increases in the others, the whole of this process being supported by previous growth of the brain. The first impulse came from a change of life conditions that made maancestors inhabitants of the plains with an erect posture. Then, in some hundreds of thousands of years, wextreme slowness at first, and afterwards more and more rapidly, the use of tools, the faculty of speech, aabstract thinking developed. The previous development of the animals, because the changes in bodily orgdepend on biological processes, took place extremely slowly, and always by the formation of new speciThe rapid development of this one species 5omo /apiens was possible because the easily interchangeaband artificial tools had replaced the bodily organs and could be improved increasingly rapidly by the strugfor life. Thus man became master of the earth, and his rising put an end to the development of the animkingdom. In the last part of his rise, some thousands of years ago, the invention of writing, adding visiand lasting symbols to the passing sounds of spoken language, marks the beginning of civili%ation produced theoretical science as a basis for a continuous technical progress, which is now nearly aboutunite all mankind into one self-controlling community.

4:s&m:

H6homme se distingue des animaux par trois caract^risti2ues principales4 la pensê abstraite au moyeconcepts, le langage et l6usage d6outils 2u6il a lui-mYme confectionn^s. He probl me 2ue pl6anthropog^n se, c6est de savoir comment les traces de 2ualit^s analogues 2u6on rencontre che% les animse sont d^veloppês de faUon Q devenir des facult^s 2ui diff rent 2ualitativement.

Hes animaux, eux aussi, se servent d6ob ets inanim^s naturels pour leur desseins l6homme seul transforme en outils, Q la suite d6une pr^paration conUue d6apr s un plan pro et^. H6outil 2u6on tient Q lremplit les mYmes fonctions 2ue l6organe corporel de l6animal. ?our pouvoir saisir et guider l6outil, l6hodoit donc disposer d6un organe de pr^hension, la main, 2ui est pour lui un legs de ses ancYtres simihabitant les arbres. Ha vie en communaut^ est une autre condition n^cessaire, parce 2ue la connaissancel6usage est transmise ainsi Q la g^n^ration suivante et 2u6elle sera conservê par lQ. $omme l6outil eob et inanim^, s^par^ du corps, il peut Ytre remplac^ s6il est d^t^rior^, et il peut se transformer sous

77@



formes multiples en vue de buts diff^rents ainsi on pourrait dire 2ue l6homme est un animal 2ui dispd6organes interchangeables. H6outil peut se perfectionner continuellement gr ce Q des inventions et d^pala longue en perfection tout organe animal c6est ce 2ui assure Q l6homme sa sup^riorit^ sur les animaux.

Hes bYtes sont ^galement conscientes, poss dent des facult^s mentales et une certaine forme de pensê. $elles les sensations de besoins physi2ues et les impressions sensorielles forment une unit^ ins^parable avl6action 2ui les suit. $he% l6homme cette unit^ a ^t^ rompue les impressions s6accumulent dans l6espri2u6elles soient imm^diatement suivies de l6action l6acte vient apr s comme un fait spontan^. Ha pensêun d^tour en passant de l6impression sensorielle Q l6action, ou plutjt, elle fait bien des d^tours, pa

les2uels il faut faire un choix. "n certain nombre d6idês s6ins rent entre l6impression et l6action commecha nes dont on peut relier les cha nons de diverses faUons comme des pi ces de rechange ind^pendantes, deviennent des ob ets de la perception de la conscience et 2u6on peut distinguer comme des idês abstraiHa diff^rence entre l6homme et l6animal se manifeste seulement 2uantitativement dans le cerveau4 l6homme le poids du cerveau est 2uatre fois plus grand 2ue che% les anthropomorphes de la mYme tailleen est de mYme de la superficie de la substance corticale. Il est douteux 2ue les circonvolutions frontaconsid^rês le plus souvent comme l6organe de la pensê abstraite, soient relativement plus volumineuche% l6homme.

\uant aux animaux, des sons ^motionels fonctionnent comme moyens d6avertissement et de communicatiche% les animaux 2ui vivent en commun. $he% l6homme seul ces sons sont devenus des mots, des symbsonores arbitraires ayant une tout autre signification. Ils forment une langue 2ui est un m^canisme communication parfait et compli2u^ 2ui sert Q co rdonner toutes les actions. He langage est un organe decommunaut^ et peut na tre et subsister uni2uement dans une collectivit^ elle est la condition mYmetravail et de la lutte en commun, et elle incarne et conserve le savoir 2ui va en augmentant tou ours. Il fun certain degr^ de d^veloppement intellectuel pour permettre la construction et l6usage de la langInversement la pensê humaine n6a pu na tre 2ue par le langage ce n6est 2u6en exprimant les idês au modes noms et des mots 2u6elles pouvaient se former et se fixer penser d6une faUon consciente, c6est se pasoi-meme.

H6usage d6outils a exerc^ une grande influence sur la naissance de la pensê humaine. H6outil s6ins re l6organisme et le monde ext^rieur, entre l6impression sensorielle et l6action, et oblige l6action Q faid^tour c6est pour2uoi notre pensê est ^galement obligê Q faire un d^tour, allant de la sensation Q l6ob passant par l6outil. Ha multiplicit^ des outils, 2ui impli2ue la multiplicit^ des d tours, oblige la pensê Qun choix et Q comparer prâblement. Ha distance entre la confection pr^paratoire et l6usage post^rieul6outil entra ne ^galement une s^paration entre les processus intellectuels et ^l ve la pensê thôri2ue au rd6une activit^ ind^pendante. H6outil ob ective l6action 2ui us2ue-lQ ^tait instinctive, et gr ce Q ses evisibles il fait na tre le concept conscient de causalit^. H6outil a exerc^ une grande influence sur la premformation du langage puis2u6il ^tait tantjt ob et ext^rieur, partie inanimê de la nature, tantjt organcorporel, partie du su et, il se diff^rencie de tous les deux et se trouve Ytre un ob et Q part et par suite deimportance dans la lutte pour la vie un son accompagnant l6action s6y attache et devient un nom. $et effel6outil se montre aussi dans le fait 2ue dans le cortex c^r^bral le centre du langage ne s6^tablit 2ue dans l

de ses moiti^s, dans celle 2ui innerve la main 2ui manie et guide les outils, Q savoir che% la pluparthommes dans la moiti^ gauche, che% les gauchers dans la partie droite.

$omme ces trois caract^risti2ues de l6homme se conditionnent mutuellement, elles n6ont pu se d^velopp partir des premi res traces 2u6en formant un tout, s6activant l6une l6autre par leur progr s graduelcroissance commune tout ce processus s6appuye sur la croissance prâlable du cerveau. Ha premiimpulsion a ^t^ donnê par un changement dans les conditions de la vie, changement 2ui a fait des lointaancYtres arboricoles des Ytres 2ui marchent debout dans la plaine. En une p^riode de 2uel2ues milliersi cles l6usage des outils, le langage et la pensê intellectuelle se sont d^velopp^s, d6abord lentement, d6faUon imperceptible, ensuite tou ours plus rapidement. He d^veloppement prâlable dans le r gne anima pouvait se faire 2u6avec une lenteur extrYme, crânt de nouvelles esp ces, parce 2ue l6^volution des org

corporels d^pend de lois biologi2ues. He d^veloppement rapide d6une seule esp ce, l65omo sapiens, s6effectu^ parce 2ue l6outil ext^rieur et rapidement remplaUable a pris la place de l6organe de l6animal, ecet outil s6est perfectionn^ de plus en plus dans la lutte pour la vie. $6est ce 2ui a fait de l6homme le madu monde et c6est pour2uoi son av nement a clos le d^veloppement organi2ue du r gne animal. II fa

77D



a outer l6invention de l6^criture dans la derni re phase de ce d^veloppement, il y a 2uel2ues millid6annês, ce 2ui a a out^ des symboles visibles, permanents, aux sons ^ph^m res du langage parl^. $mar2ue les d^buts de l6 re de la civilisation, les origines de la science thôri2ue comme base d6un progtechni2ue ininterrompu 2ui est Q la veille de consolider l6humanit^ en une unit^ organisê, ma tresse dvie.

;&sammenfass&ng

er !ensch unterscheidet sich von den Tieren durch drei wesentliche "nterscheidungsmerkmale4 dasabstrakte enken mittels Begriffe, die /prache, und den Gebrauch von erk%eugen, die er selbst verfertigtas ?roblem der !enschwerdung, der 1nthropogenese, ist, wie die 1nlagen analoger Eigenschaften bei denTieren so ausgewachsen sind, dass sie %u 2ualitativ verschiedenen 3 higkeiten geworden sind.

1uch Tiere verwenden tote 'aturgegenstande f r ihre Pwecke der !ensch allein bildet diese in planm ssiger Korbereitung %u erk%eugen urn. as in die 5and genommene erk%eug spielt dieselbe<olle wie das 8 rperorgan beim Tier. er !ensch musste, um das erk%eug fest%uhalten und %u leiten,ber eine 5and als Greiforgan verfugen diese ist als Erbschaft affenartiger baumbewohnender 1hnenmitgebracht worden. Korbedingung ist auch das Heben in Gemeinschaft, wodurch die 8enntnis dGebrauches der ungeren Generation bermittelt, und so bewahrt wird. urch den "mstand, dass daserk%eug ein toter Gegenstand ist, los vom 8 rper, ist es bei Besch digung erset%bar, und kann es sich %vielerlei 3ormen und Pwecken differen%ieren der !ensch ist ein Tier mit auswechselbaren #rganen. aserk%eug kann durch Erfindungen andauernd verbessert werden, und wiichst an Kollkommenheit iib

edes tierische #rgan hinaus dies verleiht clem !enschen seine #berlegenheit iiber die Tiere.

1uch die Tiere haben Bewusstsein, geistige 3 higkeiten, und eine gewisse 3orm von enken. Bei ihnen bilden die Empfindungen der k rperlichen Bed rfnisse und der /inneseindr cke mit dem darauffolgenden5andeln ein Gan%es. Bei dem !enschen ist diese Einheit verschnitten die Eindr cke sammeln sich im Geian, ohne dass sofortiges 5andeln darauf folgt, und das 5andeln erfolgt sp ter als spontane Tat. Kon dem/inneseindruck %ur 5andlung folgt das enken einem "mwege, oder lieber vielen "mwegen, %wischendenen gew hlt werden muss. Eine 1n%ahl Korstellungen schiebt sich %wischen Eindruck und 5andlung,8etten, deren Glieder als freie echselst cke sich verschieden %usammen%uf gen lassen, Gegenstandeigener ahrnehmung des /elbstbewusstseins werden und als abstrakte Begriffe unterschieden werden. ImGehirn tritt der "nterschied %wischen !ensch und Tier allein als ein 2uantitativer "nterschied auf4 beim!enschen ist das Gehirngewicht *f r gleiche 8 rpergr sse+ viermal so gross wie bei den !enschaffen, undebenso die #berflache der 5irnrinde. #b die h ufig als #rgan des abstrakten enkens betrachteten/tirnwindungen beim !enschen verh ltnism ssig umfangreicher sind, ist %weifelhaft.

Bei den Tieren treten Haute als usserungen der Erregung auf, die bei in Gemeinschaft lebenden Tieren arnung und !itteilung dienen. Beim !enschen allein sind diese Haute %u orten geworden, %u

willk rlichen 8langsymbolen, die etwas gan% anderes bedeuten, %u 'amen von ingen und 5andlungen. /ie bilden eine /prache, die als kompli%ierter und vollendeter !itteilungsmechanismus %u 8o rdination all

1ktion dient. ie /prache ist ein #rgan der Gemeinschaft und kann nur in einer Gemeinschaft entstehen und bestehen bleiben sie ist die Korbedingung gemeinschaftlicher 1rbeit und gemeinschaftlichen 8ampfes, unverk rpert und bewahrt die stetig wachsende !asse der 8enntnisse. 3 r die Bildung und den Gebrauch einer/prache ist eine gewisse geistige Entwicklung erforderlich. "mgekehrt konnte nur durch die /prache damenschliche enken entstehen Begriffe konnten sich nur dadurch bilden und festgehalten werden, dass sals 'amen und orte ausgedr ckt werden bewusstes enken ist !it-sich-selbst-sprechen in orten.

er erk%euggebrauch hat einen bedeutenden Einfluss auf das Entstehen des menschlichen enkensausge bt. as erk%eug schiebt sich %wischen den #rganismus und die 1ussenwelt, %wischen den/inneseindruck und die 5andlung, und %wingt das 5andeln, einen "mweg %u nehmen daher muss auch denken einen "mweg nehmen, von der ahrnehmung ber das erk%eug %u dem #b ekt. ie Kielheit vonerk%eugen, also Kielheit von "mwegen, %wingt %u ahl und Kergleichung im vorherigen enken. ieTrennung %wischen der vorbereitenden 1nfertigung und dem spateren Gebrauch des erk%euges brinauch eine Trennung in den geistigen ?ro%essen %ustande und macht das theoretische enken %u eiselbst ndigen T tigkeit. as erk%eug ob ektiviert das vorher instinktive 5andeln, und durch seine

77



7@. 5. 8laatsch, er erdegang der !enschheit und die Entstehung der 8ultur *0>7 +.7D. olfgang 8ohler, Intelligen%pr fungen an !enschenaffen *0>70+.7 . Grace 1. e Haguna, /peech, its function and development *0>7 +.7C. 5. H^vy-Bruhl, Hes fonctions mentales dans les soci^t^s inf rieures *0>77+.7>. (, Ha mentalit^ primitive *The 5erbert /pencer Hecture, 0>90+.9 . 3r. !einecke, ie Entstehung des 5istorismus *0>9D+.90. !. !ilankovitch, !athematische 8limalehre *8 ppen-Geiger, 5andbuch der 8limatologie, Bd. I+.97. 5.1. !iller, <aces, nations and classes *0>7=+.99. Hewis 5. !organ, 1ncient /ociety, or researches in the line of human progress from slavery through barbarism to civili%ation *0C +.

9=. <ichard ! ller-3reienfels, as enken und die ?hantasie *7e 1ufl. 0>7@+.9@. Hudwig 'oir , as erk%eug, und seine Bedeutung f r die Entwicklungsgeschichte der !enschheit *0CC +.9D. $.8. #gden and I.1. <ichards, The meaning of meaning *0>79+.9 . 5.3. #sborn, !en of the old stone age *0>0D+.9C. A.?. ?avlov, $onditioned <eflexes *0>7 +.9>. 5. ?i ron, He cerveau et la pens^e *0>79+.= . A.5. ?ost, e wieg der menschheid *without year+.=0. /. <amon F $a al, 5istologie du systeme nerveux II *0>00+.=7. 5. <ohracher, ie Korgange im Gehirn und das geistige Heben *0>9>+.=9. Bertrand <ussell, The analysis of mind *0>7=+.==. E. /apir, Hanguage *0>70+.=@. $. /herrington, The brain and its mechanism *0>99+.=D. '. 5anna Thomson, Brain and ?ersonality *0>79+.= . Hynn Thorndyke, 1 history of magic and experimental science during the first 09 centuries of our era *0>7>=C. 3. Tilney, The brain from ape to man, II *0>7C+.=>. 5ans einert, ie <assen der !enschheit *0>9>+.@ . (, er geistige 1ufstieg der !enschheit *0>= +.@0. <.!. Ferkes and B. . Hearned, $himpan%ee Intelligence and its vocal expressions *0>7@+.@7. ( and 1da . Ferkes, The great apes, a study of anthropoid life *0>7>+.

+riginal <&otations

D. F IJ die äusserste Not macht es niemals erfinderisch *Geiger+.

>. F0e natura 9ationis non est- res ut contingentes- sed ut necessarias contemplari */pino%a+.

>. F0enken ist die be,usste Vergleichung der schon ge,onnenen Vorstellungen unter 1usammenfassung desGleichartigen #u Begriffen *5elmholt%+.

07. F"a pensOe est d$namisme- la pensOe est association *?i^ron+.

09. F0adurch dass ,ir die 0inge denken- machen ,ir sie #u et,as Allgemeinem *5egel+.

0D,F?s scheint spe#ielle ?rinnerungs#ellen #u geben *<ohracher+.

0D.FC4est une idOe puOrile @ue de s4imaginer @ue le cer%eau constitue une magasin oZ se dOposent de petits clichOs-images photographi@ues des O%Onements @ui ont affectOes les sens IJ *?i^ron+.

0 . FCet organe est une appareil enrOgistreur mer%eilleu67 !ou%ent une seule stimulation suffit pour produire uneempreinte durable7 *G. Bohn+.

0 . F"4e6tension- la croissance et la multiplication des appendices des neurones ne s4arr[tent pas d4ailleurs P lanaissance5 ils se continuent au dela IJ "4e6ercise est sans doute pas Otranger P ces modifications%raisemblablement plus mar@uOes dans certaines sph\res- che# l4homme culti%O7 "e man@ue d4e6ercise doit

pro%o@uer- au contraire- durant la croissance et m[me P l4age adulte- dans les sph\res inacti%es de l4homme culti%Ocomme dans le cer%eau de l4homme inculte ces phOnom\nes de resorption IJ @ui se traduisent ici par l4oubli7*<amon y $a al+.

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7>. FGan# anders ,ird das Verhältnis- ,enn das Werk#eug als :ittelglied #,ischen den Willen und diebeabsichtigte Wirkung tritt IJ 0enn hier ist der Causalbegriff augenscheinlich und sich gleichsam %on selbstaufdrängend7 0as Wirkende ist erst #u schaffen oder doch herbei#uschaffen5 das Verhältnis des #,eckmässigen

:ittels #u der beabsichtigden Wirkung ist eben das Causal%erhältnis selbst- es tritt hier der beobachtenden Betrachtung in seiner einfachsten- handgreiflichsten Verk rperung entgegen7 *'oir^+.

7>. FNur aus der ob*ecti%en Welt ent#ündet und erleuchtet sich das !elbstbe,usstseinR aber nicht aus der ob*ekti%enWelt als solcher- ,ie sie uns rings umgibt und entgegenstarrt und *a ,ohl auch %on der Thiere angestarrt d7h7%erständnislos gesehen ,ird- sondern insofern sie %on dem menschlichen Willen- der menschlichen Thätigkeit- d7h7dem sub*ekti%en .actor %erändert- modificiert- umgestaltet ,ird7 *'oir^+.

9 . F0ie hohe Wichtigkeit der Hand als Vernunft3 rgan liegt in ihrer %or,iegenden Acti%ität- *enem durchausnoth,endigen .aktor- ohne ,elchen überhaupt keine ?rkenntnis #u !tande kommen kann7 *'oir^+.

90. FLdaM begeht !ultan einen Fschlechten .ehler - oder- deutlicher gesprochen- eine kräftige 0ummheit IJGleich danach set#t ein IJ unter die Xguten .ehler4 #u rechnendes Verfahren ein7 *8 hler+.

90. F0abei kommt es #ufällig da#u- dass er %or sich in *eder Hand ein 9ohr hält- und #,ar sodass sie in einer "inieliegen5 er steckt das dünnere ein ,enig in die effnung des dickeren- springt auch schon auf ans Gitter- dem er bisherhalb den 9ücken #ukehrte und beginnt eine Banane mit dem 0oppelrohr heran#u#iehen7 *8 hler+.

97. FWerk#eug und !prache geh ren nach alter ?insicht #um :enschlichsten am :enschen S F!einem gan#en ; rperbau nach sei der :ensch auf Werk#eug und !prache ange,iesen- auf Werk#eug und !prache hin organisiert7F0ie !prache ist dem Werk#eug %er,andt5 auch sie geh rt #u den Geräten des "ebens- ist ein rganon ,ie dasdingliche Gerät IJ *8arl B hler+.

97. F0ie gegenseitige- in ununterbrochener Wechsel,irkung stehende Bedingtheit %on !prache und Werk#eug- d7h7%on 0enken und Thätigkeit- bildet den leitenden .aden dieser >ntersuchungen7 *'oir^+.

99. F0ie ?igenthümlichkeit und gan# ungeheure Wichtigkeit des Werk#eugs liegt darin- dass es #ugleich Theil des!ub*ects und dennoch b*ect ist7 *'oir^+.

99. F IJ die !prachforschung LhatM den %ollkommenen Be,eis dafür erbracht- dass der :ensch schon !prachebesass- ehe er im Besit# des Werk#eugs ,ar IJ +n den untersten !chichten des !prachlebens tritt uns der :ensch- indieser Hinsicht %on dem Thiere noch nicht unterschieden- nur auf die Tätigkeit seiner natürlichen rgane ange,iesen-entgegen7 *'oir^+.

99. FWie die !prache- so bildet auch das Werk#eug ein Characteristicum des :enschen7 Ausnahmslos stehen sich indieser Hinsicht :enschen,elt und Thier,elt gegenüber7 *'oir^+.

9D. F0ass der :ensch indifferent blieb- sich seine Vielseitigkeit be,ahrte S darin liegt eben ein grosser Teil desGeheimnisses seines ausserordentlichen ?rfolgs IJ sein !ieg beruht darin IJ dass er seine Hand behielt IJ Nichtder Besit# der Hand als solcher ist es S es ,ar *a allen Tieren einmal eigen S sondern der >mstand- dass dies Gebildein seiner >rsprünglichkeit beibehalten ,urde- und dass es sich in den 0ienst einer ge,altigen Gehirnentfaltung

stellen konnte S das ist das :erk,ürdige7 *8laatsch+. 9D. F!o ist die Hand nicht nur das rgan der Arbeit- sie ist auch ihr <rodukt7 Nur durch Arbeit- durch Anpassung

an immer neue Verrichtungen- durch Vererbung der dadurch er,orbenen besonderen Ausbildung der :uskel- Bänder- und in längeren 1eiträumen auch der ;nochen- und durch immer erneuerte An,endung dieser %ererbtenVerfeinerung auf neue- stets %er,ickeltere Verrichtungen hat die :enschenhand *enen hohen Grad %onVollkommenheit erhalten- auf dem sie 9afaelsche Gemälde- Thor,aldsensche !tatuen- <aganinische :usikher%or#aubern konnte7 *3r. Engels+.

9 . F>ne derni\re rO%olution ps$chi@ue IJ est celle @ui est mar@uOe par l4apparition de l4homme P la surface dela Terre7 Cette apparition est entourOe de bien des m$st\res IJ Voici simplement une des opinions rOcentesR la TerreOtait peuplOe d4une multitude de mammif\res @uand l4homme est apparu- par mutation brus@ue- a%ec un cer%eauh$pertrophie- S sorte de monstre dont la pensOe allait dominer l IJ il a dOcou%ert le feu- il a fabri@uO des outils- il a

prati@uO le langage IJ ++ $ a un hiatus entre l4intelligence des animau6 et l4intelligence humaine5 *e ne crois pas @uenous so$ions pr[ts P combler cet hiatus7 *Georges Bohn+.

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9 . FAlle diese niederen !äugetiere sind in !ackgassen geraten- aus denen es ein 1urück nicht mehr gibt S und auchkein Vor,ärts7 *8laatsch+.

9C. F0as .euer ,ärmte und schüt#te %or .einden IJ FAber das .euer %erlangte auch Wartung und <flege IJ ?s brachte *a #um ersten :ale den %orher nie gekannten Begriff der Arbeit IJ Arbeit- das heisst aber auch Tätigkeitmit dem Be,usstsein- ,ofür man schafft7 * einert+.

9C. F0er ?rtrag des =agens und !ammelns ist im Gan#en so dürftig und unsicher- dass er häufig nicht einmal gegenden bittersten :angel schüt#t7 *Grosse+.

9C. FAber %ielleicht ,ar der <rometheus3Gedanke als ,irkliche ?rfindung doch nur einmal gedacht- sodass erbestehen bleiben konnte- selbst ,enn das erste .euer in der Hand des :enschen längst ,ieder %erloschen ,ar M Nes bleibt ebenfalls als gro]e Trennungslinie #,ischen Tier und :ensch die be,usste artikulierte !prache- >nd ,enn,ir dann uns %orstellen- ,ie ein schimpansenhafter Hordenführer- der den !inn des .euergebrauches erdacht oder,enigstens erfasst hat- sich ,eiterhin bemühen muss- den Wert der ?nt,icklung den anderen :itgliedern der !ippe%erständlich #u machen- dann lässt sich dies nicht mehr mit Handbe,egungen und Grimassenschneiden ausführen7

?in Wesen- das an sich schon ge,ohnt ist- %on seiner !timme gelegentlich Gebrauch #u machen- muss nun da#ukommen- abstrakte 0inge- ,ie sie der >mgang mit dem .euer doch darstellt- auch durch Worte anderen begreiflich

#u machen7 * einert+.

= . F"e linguiste n4a *amais affaire @u4P des langues tr\s e%oluOes- @ui ont derri\re elles un passO considOrable dont

nous ne sa%ons rien7 F n a renoncO P rien demander au6 sau%ages7 "eurs langues ont une histoire7 +ls ne sont pasdes primitifs- elles ne sont pas primiti%es7 * elacroix+.

= , F"e langage par gestes est IJ le premier langage naturel de l4humanitO7 *Kan Ginniken+.

= . Fencore tout pr\s- ou du moins beaucoup plus pr\s @ue nous- de la condition originelle des sociOtOs humaines- et@ue- dans le monde actuel- ils reprOsentent ce @ue furent nos anc[tres les plus OloignOs7 M NFnous l4ignorons- etnous a%ons peu de chances de l4apprendre *amais7 F IJ des hommes @ui- en fait- ne sont pas plus Xprimitifs4 @uenous- mais @ui appartiennent P des sociOtOs dites infOrieures ou peu ci%ilisOes7 *H^vy-Bruhl+.

= . F=us@u4ici dans tous les caract\res chinois il n4$ a pas ombre d4une langue orale ou de signes acousti@ues IJ s4il $ a%ait eu une langue orale- ou des mots3clics- nous en a%ions trou%O @uel@ue %estige IJ *Kan Ginniken+.

0 . FNotre re%ue P donc donnO le resultat asse# remar@uable- @ue tous les s$st\mes d4Ocriture- @ue nousconnaissons d\s leur commencement- sui%ent dans leurs trois premi\res pOriodes enti\rement le mod\le d4un langage

par gestes- le@uel est donc antOrieur au6 hiOrogl$phes7 ?t ce n4est O%idement @u4a%ec l4aide- et par le soutien deslangues hiOrogl$phi@ues @ui possOdaient dO*P un le6i@ue- une grammaire et une s$nta6e- @ue dans les ci%ilisationsa%ancOes mo$ennant les clics inter*ectionelles les langues orales ont apparu IJ F r notre re%ue %ient de montrer@ue les langues orales n4apparaissent dans l4histoire de l4humanitO @u4en%iron l4an E a%7 =7 Chr7 IJ au plus t^t7*Kan Ginniken+.

[email protected]"e moindre raisonnement tant soit peu abstrait leur rOpugne tellement @u4ils se dOclarent tout de suite fatiguOs-et @u4ils $ renoncent7 ++ faut donc admettre IJ @ue la mOmoire supplOe che# eu6 IJ P des opOrations @ui dOpendent

ailleurs du mOcanisme logi@ue7 Che# nous- la mOmoire est rOduite- en ce @ui concerne les fonctions intellectuelles- aur^le subordonnO de conser%er les rOsultats ac@uis par une Olaboration logi@ue des concepts7 :ais- pour la mentalitO prOlogi@ue- les sou%enirs sont pres@ue e6clusi%ement des reprOsentations tr\s comple6es- @ui se succ\dent dans unordre in%ariable7 *H^vy-Bruhl+.

=D.F r- dans pres@ue toutes les sociOtOs infOrieures- nous trou%ons IJ cette mentalitO fi6e- arr[tOe et P peu tr\sin%ariable- non seulement dans ses traits essentiels- mais dans le contenu m[me et *us@ue dans le dOtail de sesreprOsentations7 "a cause en est @ue cette mentalitO- @uoi@ue non soumise P un mOcanisme logi@ue- ou plut^t

prOcisOment parce @u4elle n4$ est pas soumise- n4est pas libre7 !on uniformitO est le reflet de l4uniformitO de la structure sociale- P la@uelle elle correspond et @u4elle e6prime7 *H^vy-Bruhl+.

= . F0er ;ern des Historismus besteht in der ?rset#ung einer generalisierenden Betrachtung geschichtlich3menschlicher ;räfte durch eine indi%idualisierende Betrachtung7 *!einecke+.

797



&ack to Anton Pannekoek !a$e

T E 3AI6 RE O3 T E 5ORKIN: )6ASS 819+1'T#' ?1''E8#E8


In former issues of ?olitics the problem has been posed4 hy did the working class fail in its historical taskhy did it not offer resistance to national socialism in Germany: hy is there no trace of any revolutionarymovement amongst the workers of 1merica: hat has happened to the social vitality of the world workingclass: hy do the masses all over the globe no longer seem capable of initiating anything new aimed at theiown self-liberation: /ome light may be thrown upon this problem by the following considerations.It is easy to ask4 why did not the workers rise against threatening fascism: To fight you must have a positaim. #pposed to fascism there were two alternatives4 either to maintain, or to return to the old capitaliwith its unemployment, its crises, its corruption, its misery--whereas 'ationalism /ocialism preserved itseas an anti-capitalist reign of labor, without unemployment, a reign of national greatness, of commun politics that could lead to a socialist revolution. Thus, indeed, the deeper 2uestion is4 why did the Germworkers not make their revolution:ell, they had experienced a revolution4 0>0C. But it had taught them the lesson that neither the /ocia

emocratic ?arty, nor the trade unions was the instrument of their liberation both turned out to beinstruments for restoring capitalism. /o what were they to do: The $ommunist ?arty did not show a waeither it propagated the <ussian system of state-capitalism, with its still worse lack of freedom.$ould it have been otherwise: The avowed aim of the /ocialist ?arty in Germany--and then in all countrieswas state socialism. 1ccording to program the working class had to con2uer political dominance, and th by its power over the state, had to organi%e production into a state-directed planned economic systeminstrument was to be the /ocialist ?arty, developed already into a huge body of 9 , members, with amillion trade-union members and three million voters behind them, led by a big apparatus of politiciaagitators, editors, eager to take the place of the former rulers. 1ccording to program, then, they shouexpropriate by law the capitalist class and organi%e production in a centrally-directed planned system.It is clear that in such a system the workers, though their daily bread may seem to be secured, are on

imperfectly liberated. The upper echelons of society have been changed, but the foundations bearing tentire building remain the old ones4 factories with wage-earning workers under the command of direcand managers. /o we find it described by the English socialist G. .5. $ole, who after orld ar 0 stronglyinfluenced the trade unions by his studies of guild socialism and other reforms of the industrial system. says4JThe whole people would no more be able than the whole body of shareholders in a great enterprise manage an industry....It would be necessary, under socialism as much as under large scale capitalism, entrust the actual management of industrial enterprise to salaried experts, chosen for their speciali%knowledge and ability in particular branches of work....There is no reason to suppose that the methodsappointing the actual managers in sociali%ed industries would differ widely from those already in forclarge scale capitalist enterprise....There is no reason to suppose that the sociali%ation of any industry womean a great change in its managerial personnel.JThus the workers will have got new masters instead of the old ones. Good humane masters instead of bad, rapacious masters of today. 1ppointed by a socialist government or at best chosen by themselves. Bonce chosen, they must be obeyed. The workers are not master over their shops, they are not master of means of production. 1bove them stands the commanding power of a state bureaucracy of leaders anmanagers. /uch a state of affairs can attract the workers as long as they feel powerless against the power the capitalists4 so in their first rise during the 0>th century this was put up as the goal. They were not strenough to drive the capitalists out of the command over the production installations so their way out wstate socialism, a government of socialists expropriating the capitalists. 'ow that the workers begin to reali%e that state socialism means new fetters, they stand before the diffictask of finding and opening new roads. This is not possible without a deep revolution of ideas, accompan by much internal strife. 'o wonder that the vigor of the fight slackens, that they hesitate, divided anuncertain, and seem to have lost their energy.

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a new character already in the rebellious masses4 self-determination instead of determination by leaders, sreliance instead of obedience, fighting spirit instead of accepting the dictates from above, unbreakabsolidarity and unity with the comrades instead of duty imposed by membership. The unit in action and stris, of course, the same as the unit of daily productive work, the personnel of the shop, the plant, the docksis the common work, the common interest against the common capitalist master that compels them to actone. In these discussions and decisions all the individual capabilities, all the forces of character and mindall the workers, exalted and strained to the utmost, are co-operating towards the common goal.In the wildcat strikes we may see the beginnings of a new practical orientation of the working class, a ntactic, the method of direct action. They represent the only actual rebellion of man against the deadeni

suppressing weight of world-dominating capital. /urely, on small scale such strikes mostly have to b broken off without success--warning signs only. Their efficiency depends on their extension over largmasses only fear for such indefinite extension can compel capital to make concessions. If the pressure capitalist exploitation grows heavier--and we may be sure it will--resistance will be aroused ever anew awill involve ever larger masses. hen the strikes take on such dimensions as to disturb seriously the sociaorder, when they assail capitalism in its inner essence, the mastery of the shops, the workers will haveconfront state power with all its resources. Then their strikes must assume a political character they have broaden their social outlook their strike committees, embodying their class community, assume wider sofunctions, taking the character of workersO councils. Then the social revolution, the breakdown of capitalcomes into view.Is there any reason to expect such a revolutionary development in coming times, through conditions twere lacking until now: It seems that we can, with some probability, indicate such conditions. In !arxOwritings we find the sentence4 a production system does not perish before all its innate possibilities hdeveloped. In the persistence of capitalism, we now begin to detect some deeper truth in this sentence thwas suspected before. 1s long as the capitalist system can keep the masses alive, they feel no stringenecessity to do away with it. 1nd it is able to do so as long as it can grow and expand its realm over wid parts of the world. 5ence, so long as half the worldOs population stands outside capitalism, its task isfinished. The many hundreds of millions thronged in the fertile plains of Eastern and /outhern 1sia are stliving in pre-capitalist conditions. 1s long as they can afford a market to be provided with rails anlocomotives, with trucks, machines and factories, capitalist enterprise, especially in 1merica, may prospand expand. 1nd henceforth it is on the working class of 1merica that world-revolution depends.This means that the necessity of revolutionary struggle will impose itself once capitalism engulfs the bulkmankind, once a further significant expansion is hampered. The threat of wholesale destruction in this l phase of capitalism makes this fight a necessity for all the producing classes of society, the farmers aintellectuals as well as the workers. hat is condensed here in these short sentences is an extremelycomplicated historical process filing a period of revolution, prepared and accompanied by spiritual fights fundamental changes in basic ideas. These developments should be carefullly studied by all those to whcommunism without dictatorship, social organi%ation on the basis of community-minded freedom, represthe future of mankind.

3IVE T ESES ON T E 3I: T O3 T E 5ORKIN:)6ASS A:AINST )APITA6IS 819+7

1'T#' ?1''E8#E8 -


I. $apitalism in one century of growth has enormously increased its power, not only through expansion ovthe entire earth, but also through development into new forms. ith it the working class has increased i power, in numbers, in massal concentration, in organisation. Its fight against capitalist exploitation, mastery over the means of production, also is continually developing and has to develop into new forms.The development of capitalism led to the concentration of power over the chief branches of production in hands of big monopolistic concerns. They are intimately connected with /tate ?ower, and dominate it, thecontrol the main part of the press, they direct public opinion. !iddle-class democracy has proved the be

79@



camouflage of the political dominance of big capital. 1t the same time there is a growing tendency in mcountries to use the organised power of the /tate in concentration the management of the key industries in hands, as beginning of the planned economy. In Germany a /tate-directed economy united politicleadership and capitalist management into one combined exploiting class. In <ussia /tate-capitalism th bureaucracy is collectively master over the means of production, and by dictatorial government keeps exploited masses in submission. II. /ocialism, put up as the goal of the workersO fight, is the organisation of production by Governmenmeans /tate-socialism, the command of the /tate-officials over production and the command of manager

scientists, shop-officials in the shop. In socialist economy this body, forming a well-organised bureaucrais the direct master over the process of production. It has the disposal over the total product, determiniwhat part shall be assigned as wages to the workers, and takes the rest for general needs and for itself. Tworkers under democracy may choose their masters, but they are not themselves master of their work threceive only part of the produce, assigned to them by others they are still exploited and have to obey tnew master class. The democratic forms, supposed or intended to accompany it, do not alter the fundamenstructure of this economic system./ocialism was proclaimed the goal of the working class when in its first rise it felt powerless, unable bitself to con2uer command over the shops, and looking to the /tate for protection against the capitalist cla by means of social reforms. The large political parties embodying these aims, the /ocial emocratic and thHabour ?arties, turned into instruments for regimenting the entire working class into the service capitalism, in its wars for world power, as well as in peace time home politics. The Habour Governmentthe British H.?. cannot even be said to be socialistic but moderni%ing capitalism. By abolishingignominies and backwardness, by introducing /tate management under preserving /tate-guaranteed profifor the capitalists, it strengthens capitalist domination and perpetuates the exploitation of the workers. III. The goal of the working class is liberation from exploitation. This goal is not reached and cannotreached by a new directing and governing class substituting the bourgeoisie. It can only be realised by workers themselves being master over production.!astery of the workers over production means, first, organisation of the work in every shop and enterpri by its personnel. Instead of through command of a manager and his underlings all the regulation are mathrough decision of the entire body of the workers. This body, comprising all kinds of workers, specialiand scientists, all taking part in the production, in assembly decides everything related to the common woThe role that those who have to do the work also have to regulate their work and take the responsibiliwithin the scope of the whole, can be applied to all branches of production. It means, secondly, that tworkers create their organs for combining the separate enterprises into an organised entirety of plann production. These organs are the workersO councilsThe workers councils are bodies of delegates, sent out by the personnels of the separate shops or sections big enterprises, carrying the intentions and opinions of the personnel, in order to discuss and take decision the common affairs, and to bring back the results to their mandatories. They state and proclaim tnecessary regulations, and by uniting the different opinions into one common result, form the connectionthe separate units into a well-organised whole. They are no permanent board of leaders, but can be recalland changed at every moment. Their first germs appeared in the beginning of the <ussian and Germrevolutions */oviets, 1rbitrate+. They are to play an increasing role in future working class developments. IK. ?olitical parties to the present times have two functions. They aspire, first, at political power, dominance in the /tate, to take government into their hands and use its power to put their program in practice. 3or this purpose the have, secondly, to win the masses of the working people to their programs4means of their teachings clarifying the insight, or, by their propaganda, simply trying to make of them a hof followers.orking class parties put up as their goal the con2uest of political power, thereby to govern in the interest othe workers, and especially to abolish capitalism. They assert themselves as the advance guard of tworking class, its most clear-sighted part, capable of leading the uninstructed ma ority of the class, acting

its name as its representative. They pretend to be able to liberate the workers from exploitation. 1n exploiclass, however, cannot be liberated by simply voting and bringing into power a group of new governors political party cannot bring freedom, but , when it wins, only new forms of domination. 3reedom can wonby the working masses only through their own organised action, by taking their lot into their own han

79D



in devoted exertion of all their faculties, by directing and organising their fight and their work themselvesmeans of their councils.3or the parties - then remains the second function, to spread insight and knowledge, to study, discuss aformulate social ideas, and by their propaganda to enlighten the minds of the masses. The workersO counare the organs for practical action and fight of the working class to the parties falls the task of the boldingof its spiritual power. Their work forms an indispensable part in the self-liberation of the working class. K. The strongest form of fight against the capitalist class is the strike. /trikes are necessary, ever agaiagainst the capitalistsO tendency to increase their profits by lowering wages and increase the hours or

intensity of work.The trade unions have been formed as instruments of organised resistance, bases on strong solidarity amutual help. ith the growth of big business capitalist power has increased enormously, so that only inspecial cases the workers are able to withstand the lowering of their working conditions. The Trade "niogrow into instruments of mediation between capitalists and workers they make treaties with the employwhich they try to enforce upon the often unwilling workers. The leaders aspire to become a recognised pof the power apparatus of capital and /tate dominating the working class the "nions grow into instrumenof monopolist capital, by means of which it dictates its terms to the workers.The fight of the working class, under these circumstances, ever more takes the form of wild strikes. They spontaneous, massal outbursts of the long suppressed spirit of resistance. They are direct actions in whthe workers take their fight entirely into their own hands, leaving the "nions and their leaders outside.The organisation of the fight is accomplished by the strike-committees, delegates of the strikers, chosen sent out by the personnelOs. By means of discussions in these committees the workers establish their uniaction. Extension of the strike to ever larger masses, the only tactics appropriate to wrench concessions frcapital, is fundamentally opposed to the Trade "nion tactics to restrict the fight and to put an end to it soon as possible. /uch wild strikes in the present times are the only real class fights of the workers againcapital. 5ere they assert their freedom, themselves choosing and directing their actions, not directed by oth powers for other interests.That determines the importance of such class contests for the future. hen the wild strikes takes on evelarger extension they find the entire physical power of the /tate against them. /o they assume arevolutionary character. hen capitalism turns into an organised world government - though as yet only ithe form of two contending powers, threatening mankind with entire devastation - the fight for freedomthe working class takes the form of a fight against /tate ?ower. Its strikes assume the character of bi political strikes, sometimes universal strikes. Then the strike-committees need ac2uire general social a political functions, and assume the character of workersO councils. <evolutionary fight for dominance society is at the same time a fight for mastery over and in the shops. Then the workersO councils, asorgans of fight, grow into organs of production at the same time. *in /outhern 1dvocate for orkers $ouncils, !elbourne, no. 99, !ai 0>= .+

Anton Pannekoek 19+7

Religion<eligion is the oldest and most deeply rooted of the ideologies which still play a role today. <eligion halways been the form in which men have expressed the consciousness that their life was dominated superior and incomprehensible forces. In religion was expressed the idea that there is a deep unity betwe!an and the world, between !an and nature, and between men and other men. ith the evolution of labour,of the various modes of production, and of knowledge about nature, as well as with changes in society athe evolution of the relations between people, religious ideas changed.

Today6s religious ideas were mainly formed four centuries ago during the violent class struggle which period of the <eformation knew. This struggle a struggle of the rising bourgeoisie and commercial capitaagainst the mediaeval domination by landed property, a struggle of the peasants against their exploitationthe nobles and clergy also assumed a religious form. 1t that time nature, like society, was badly

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people6s minds by arguments. This proves that this notion had a deeply rooted social origin it drewstrength, both at the time of the <eformation and in the later periods, from the contradictions of t bourgeoisie, i.e. from the contradictions of bourgeois production.

The religious struggles of the century of the <eformation, the ideological form which the class struggle toat that time, were expressed theologically in the discussion about Grace. In the countries of the /outh whethe bourgeoisie was not very strong, where absolute monarchs reigned and where the central power aapparatus of a mediaeval $atholic church was maintained, indeed strengthened through re-organisation, tchurch declared that salvation could not be obtained without it and re2uired a total submission to the cler

The bourgeoisie of estern Europe, on the other hand, whose strength was continually growing and whwere ready to con2uer the new world which was opening up before them, affirmed their freedom by meaof the ?rotestant doctrine which saw Grace as a result of personal faith without having to have recourse priests. In Germany where the inevitable resistance to the exploitation of <ome coincided with the beginnof an economic decline, this faith took the form of Hutheranism, of a submission to the orders of the prinThe poor peasants, exploited to death, and the proletarians scarcely felt themselves to be God6s creatures,rather victims in this world they considered themselves charged with a sacred duty4 to establish 8ingdom of God, that of e2uality and ustice, on Earth. 1ll these religious differences were embodied in many theological doctrines which reflected the differences and antagonisms between classes and socgroups4 but these religious differences were in fact not understood as this by those involved they did perceive their social origin, even though in the 0Dth century, during a desperate class struggle, warevolutions and counter-revolutions followed one another.

hen these struggles died down order was re-established the differences and antagonisms lost theisharpness the churches became rigidified into small groups they became dogmatic their new membealways came from the same families4 people entered through birth. In fact the dividing line between different churches were the results of past struggles and wars, and their stability and cohesion were the reof the tradition and solidarity of their members. But within each small group new class antagonismdeveloped4 the centuries which followed saw rich and poor, landowners and farmers, bourgeois and workliving together in each church. In the period immediately after the <eformation, however, class differenconly appeared in the form of beliefs and the struggle for these beliefs. But, for the rich bourgeois, religwas no longer so important it played a much weaker role for them than for the petty bourgeois and timpoverished and oppressed peasants and they were conse2uently much more tolerant. 1mong the lattertook impassioned and fanatical forms *as for example the German ?ietists, the utch <eformed $hurch anthe English !ethodists+ which sometimes led to a split in the original church.

In the 0Cth and 0>th centuries the struggle of the bourgeoisie for power sometimes took the form ofideological struggle against traditional religion. The power of the princes, nobles and clergy was in fsupported by a religious doctrine, by the authority of a church *the $atholic $hurch in fact+ whiguaranteed the sacred character of the old institutions. The church, as in 3rance before the 0 C> <evolutiowas often the biggest landowner the expropriation of its land and its redistribution to the peasants a precondition for capitalist exploitation was a prime source of wealth for the bourgeoisie. They appeale

to and favoured the development of the natural sciences since these were the basis of industrial technoloand machinery, but they also used them in their ideological struggle. 3or the laws of nature which wediscovered showed that it was impossible to retain the primitive ideas of traditional religion and sacrtruths. Thus in using the new knowledge against the old teachings they pursued their then interest, and thsought to remove the vast mass of petty bourgeois and peasants from the influence of the church and to lthem up on their side. By making these masses pass from a belief in the church to a belief in science, thundermined the political power of the dominant class and strengthened their own.

In the 0>th century the struggle against traditional religion led in all countries to a retreat of obscurantand to undeniable progress but in ways which differed according to the particular situation. here, as iEngland, a rich bourgeoisie reigned, these showed themselves prudent and tolerant since they did not wan

break their links with the nobility and the church and conse2uently it was the petty bourgeoisie and workers who waged the most fierce and radical struggle in the spiritual sphere. But where, on the other hathe bourgeoisie had still to raise itself and met an obstinate resistance *as in Germany+ the anti-religstruggle immediately took extreme radical forms. /cientists and intellectuals in general placed themselves

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the front line of propagandists4 a wave of books and articles aimed at popularising scientific discovespread. 1nd it was precisely because the practical, political struggle of the German bourgeoisie was noticeably weak that the theoretical side had to develop. It did this with very different results ranging fr benign and liberal $hristianity to the most total atheism.

The struggle waged by the bourgeoisie whether for or against religion remained on the ideological level4 of Truth, of general and abstract concepts. In this form it had nothing to do with social ob ectives. It gowithout saying that the bourgeoisie could hardly have revealed its social ob ective, that of installing tdomination of capitalist exploitation it had to disguise this behind ideas, ideals, those of a political a

abstract legal liberty. Thus the struggle between religion and science remained in appearance on the levelideas. The most radical opponents of religion, most often from the petty bourgeoisie, called themselv&freethinkers), wishing to show thus that they were free of the dogmas and old teachings of the churches that they sought the truth, by their own thought, in the most complete of liberties. But the idea that methought was determined by society, that religious and anti-religious conceptions were born in fact from mode of production, could not occur to them, since their own knowledge did not extend beyond the natusciences. But they were to get a good illustration of this, to experience it live, through the intermediary of fate of their own doctrine.

3or the ma ority of the bourgeois class in fact atheism was not the best theory. It is possible that in their fenthusiasm they believed that, with the coming of the bourgeois order, an era of general well-being,universal happiness, would commence and that all the problems of everyday life would be solved and tconse2uently no supernatural or unknown power could dispose of !an6s fate humanity in solving, thanks science and its technical applications, the practical problems of material life would at the same time so problems of theory. But this was only a passing illusion. 3or, in the end, at the bottom of their subconscioremained the idea that with the struggle of men against each other, with competition, no man was in fact master of his fate. 1nd it was soon revealed that other new forces were at work in this new world. ?eriodcommercial and industrial crises, unforeseeable and mysterious catastrophes, brutally interrupted progreThe irresistible growth of industry reduced workers and artisans to the most atrocious poverty4 the uprisof the starving in England already showed the beginning of the organised class struggle. 3rom the depthsthese insurgent masses new ideas sprung forth which, like a new &!ene, !ene, Tekel, "pharsim) traced inletters of fire by a prophetic hand, announced to the bourgeoisie their future decline. But the bourgeoicould not reach a clear, scientific understanding of the true character of society for this would at the satime have revealed their own exploiting and slavist character and would have taught them that their mode production was transitory. That would have meant that they would have had to sacrifice themselves, with result that the internal strength to continue the struggle would have been lacking. But the bourgeoisie did itself a young enough force to continue to fight to con2uer the world and impose its domination on tworking masses. 1 class which feels itself capable of waging a practical struggle cannot do this without ttheoretical conviction that it is right and will win so it constructs a suitable theory and disseminates it. Tis why the bourgeoisie had to draw their strength from an instinctive belief that it was not material forwhich dominated the world and their own future, but transcendental spiritual forces. Thus the bourgeoisiea class had to allow religion to survive the religious way of thinking was completely adapted to their socsituation. But this religion was of course 2uite a different thing from the traditional doctrine of the churThe intolerant and intransigent dogmas were succeeded by more flexible, more rational ideas and the vagfeeling that instead of God the avenger, terrifying Aehovah, there reigned in heaven a tolerant and debogod, sometimes even so vague and so little existing that he transformed himself into a simple moral ideal.

But to the extent that the workers6 movement later arose as a threat, the bourgeoisie more and more tur back to religion. !ystical ideas got more and more of a hold on the general thought and output of itspokesmen. $ertainly from time to time one saw some signs of rationalism resurging, especially at the timwhen the big bourgeoisie felt itself strong enough to con2uer the universe with its industry and its capit but, strengthened by violent world crises and destructive wars, the feeling of uncertainty, of anguish in face of the future, developed in the bourgeoisie and, with this, mystical and religious tendencies grew.

In the 0>th century there appeared within the working class a completely different materialist concepticonnected with its way of life and class position. It was different from the atheism which had played a rolthe struggle of the bourgeoisie. 1theism is opposed to theism, to belief in God for it, the essential probl

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is4 does there exist a God who rules the world. !aterialism does not deal with this problem it is interestedthe forces which really dominate the world4 these are material forces, that is real and observable forces. the forces which dominate the workers are visible and clearly identifiable4 they are social forces. 1s soonthe workers reach an understanding of their class position they realise that their common fate is determin by capitalism they realise that their exploitation is the result of the necessity for capital to accumulatemaking profits they realise that through the struggle which they wage in increasing numbers they w become capable of overthrowing capital and abolishing exploitation. Their thought moves within the realiof the world the old 2uestion of whether or not there exists a God who rules the world does not arise fthem. It is meaningless, ust as is the 2uestion posed in the !iddle 1ges of how many angels can dance on

pinhead. <eligious 2uestions and problems have no interest for the workers since they play no role in 2uestions which really move them to act. 1nd because they play no role, religious 2uestions and problemdisappear from the consciousness of the workers and finally disappear altogether.

This then is the difference between atheism and materialism. 1theism essentially attacks religioconsidering it the main cause of ignorance and oppression, and fights it because it sees in it the modangerous enemy of progress. !aterialism sees religion as a product of social relations and conse2uentldoes not interest itself at all in religious 2uestions as such, but in so doing does not any the less undermreligion. !aterialism has to deal with religion from the theoretical point of view alone, to show that it is important historical phenomenon, and thus to understand and explain it. In practice, however, atheism amaterialism have existed side by side in the workers6 movement. It often happens in fact that a wor brought up in a religious tradition, begins to think on the basis of his personal experience of reality, i.e. imaterialist way, and then notes that his previous beliefs disappear. In this period of doubt and interncontradiction, he has recourse to atheist works and to books popularising science in order to triumph ovtradition by coming to understand.

1theism has only once played an important role4 during the <ussian revolution. In the 0>th century <uswas an immense country peopled by uncultivated and poverty-stricken peasants, ust freed from serfdoliving in a 2uite primitive poverty and sub ected to the cruel and incompetent despotism of the Tsar and landed nobility. est European capitalism exploited the country as a sort of colony4 the starving peasanhad to pay heavy taxes which went to repay the debts contracted by the Tsar for his war policy and hwasteful expenditure. 'evertheless in some large towns were to be found a constantly increasing number ofactories managed by foreigners which employed a working class population recruited from the peasanand deprived of all rights. The struggle against 1bsolutism and to obtain a more liberal political structuwas waged by small groups of intellectuals who, as in estern Europe, were the spokesmen of the bourgeoisie and fought on their side. But here in <ussia, where no powerful bourgeoisie existed, the fistruggles the most well known being those of the 'ihilists were brutally crushed. It was only at the beginning of the century when the workers6 movement with its strikes was born that the activities of intellectuals ac2uired a solid basis. The revolutionary intellectuals then became the spokesme propagandists and educators of the working class. 1nd to this end they turned to the workers6 movementestern Europe and particularly to /ocial emocracy. They borrowed the ideas and theories of the /ocialemocrats and in particular the !arxist theory of the class struggle and the economic development ofcapitalism. They dedicated themselves body and soul to the struggle, carrying out unrelenting propaganfor the workers to organise into the &Bolshevik party) and to thus undermine the Tsarist regime. 1nd whthe Tsarist regime collapsed, worn out by two unsuccessful wars, this party took power in 0>0 in the courof a workers6 and peasants6 revolution.

The character of the Bolshevik party, its doctrine, ideas and propaganda were thus ambiguous. They hadaccomplish a task which in estern Europe had been the work of the bourgeois revolution4 to wage thstruggle against royal absolutism, against the domination of the nobles and the church and to clear the wfor industrial development and the education of the people. But here the force which had to accomplish ttask was the working class which had already shown signs of socialist tendencies going beyond capitaliBut the corresponding socialist doctrine was influenced by ideas connected with the struggle of the nasc

bourgeoisie against the princes, nobles and the church. <ussian religion had a nature even more ignoranand primitively bigoted than in western Europe, resting even more on a flowery liturgy and on the worshof images, the miracle-working icons. The spiritual struggle had to be largely directed against this ignoraon which Tsarism rested and to do this recourse had to be had explicitly to atheist and anti-religio

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propaganda. This is why the writings of the &young !arx,) i.e. his works before 0C=D, dating from a tiwhen their author was one of the leading fighters for a mainly bourgeois German revolution, providarguments and slogans of prime importance for this struggle.

hen, once in power, the Bolsheviks began to organise industry and had to consolidate their dominationover the peasant masses, anti-religious and atheist propaganda became even more significant and importaIt was an essential part, even the basis, of the intense campaign to educate the people. The illiterate mu%were not affected much by arguments drawn from the natural sciences, but the fact that the athei propagandists were not reduced to dust by lightning seemed to them a sufficient proof to get them to b

the images of the saints and to let the priests die of hunger. The young peasants willingly attended tagricultural and professional schools to ac2uire the new knowledge. There thus appeared in <ussia a ngeneration, brought up outside of all religion.

"nder Bolshevik rule industry, with its central planning and its organisation based on scientific techni2uedeveloped at an impressive speed, despite the difficulty of changing old habits of work, adapting them to pace of machines. 1griculture too underwent a transformation, imposed by force, which made it a netwoof big mechanised enterprises. 1 large bureaucracy of political and technical leaders became master of t/tate, the means of production and the products. 1nd, despite the name of $ommunism which is fre2uentlattributed to this regime, and which is in fact false, the working class does not rule industry4 it receives wages which are fixed by higher authorities and is in fact exploited, the surplus value being at the disposathe government which applies it to further develop the productive apparatus and for its own use. In teconomic system, /tate capitalism, the bureaucracy plays the role of a new ruling class, a role in manrespects the same as that played by the bourgeoisie in estern Europe.

The harsh oppression which this system imposed on the mass of workers and the often fierce struggle whthe peasants waged against the setting up of large agricultural enterprises and for the defence of priv property led to opposition which, in the absence of political freedom, fre2uently took ideological formsmany cases a revival of religion occurred. 3or, aware of its impotence in the face of the central power, thopposition had to take a form hostile to the official doctrine of the leaders of the regime and, as religio belief was the only means of active opposition and collective protest, this led to a strengthening of formignorance. 1nd in retaliation this opposition led to campaigns against religion.

/uch is the basis of the revival of religion which is often pointed out in <ussia. This development proves tgroundlessness of the atheist theory which sees religion as the outcome of a tradition resulting from trickery of the priests which is forcibly imposed upon children, and which should conse2uently disappwith this practice and with the study of scientific truth. In fact religion rests on a mode of production acannot disappear until working humanity is free and the master of its labour, of its fate, or when it sees t possibility. It can thus be said, as regards <ussia, that to the extent that /tate capitalism, by permanentdeveloping production, either places the masses before the necessity to take their fate completely into thown hands by a more and more determined struggle for their liberation or, on the other hand, leads tostrengthening of the dictatorship, atheist ideology will either be transformed into conscious materialism

will retreat before a return of religious beliefs.3or the first time in human history there appears a life without religion amongst the working masses but tis not a 2uestion of an aggressive anti-religious attitude, of a struggle against religion as such. Importfractions of the working class in fact remain on the surface and 2uite formally faithful to churches areligious forms. But in reality they have learned to consider the phenomena of the world and the happeniof life as governed by natural forces, to such an extent that traditional religious ideas and beliefs take seco place. This is the reason why the materialist conception, while it progresses in thinking, does not do sofull consciousness, nor in an absolute manner, nor everywhere. here the workers6 labour power i permanently pitted against terrifying natural forces which are not properly dominated as a result of weakness of capitalism, and which threaten them with death *as is the case for example with miners a

fishermen+, it is natural that their consciousness remains full of religious ideas and belief. 3urther, wherechurch, whose strange collection of political positions is known, chooses the workers6 side and putsstrength at their disposal in the struggle against capital as if it were its own cause, for do%ens of years

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workers feel linked to it, even if the church6s position later comes to change. The development of tmaterialist conception is thus itself sub ect to variations of historical conditions.

This type of phenomenon first appeared during the ardent struggle which $hartism waged. The Engliworkers, who were the first to do so, had to find their own way, both practically and theoretically. Thstruggle coincided with that of the bourgeoisie against landed property this is why bourgeois radicalism hsuch an influence on the English workers. It is only the more remarkable that, amidst traditional ideas, thcan be found in the $hartist press new radical, atheist, materialist ideas already expressed with considerabforce. $ertainly a good part of these came from the past being inherited from a radical tradition rationalis

thought. 1fter 0C=C, however, when the English bourgeoisie had achieved its aims and had made itsthanks to its industry and trade, masters of the world, it recuperated for its own account almost the entraditional doctrine of the $hurch and when the working class itself had, thanks to the trade uniomovement and the winning of the right to vote, taken its place in capitalism and received its share of t profits of monopoly capital in other words when it in fact accepted capitalism it adapted its ideas tothis new situation. It set about adopting the ideas of the bourgeoisie4 its modes of thought were bourge but ones which followed those of the radical petty bourgeoisie. This happened, for example, with acceptance of religious tradition, of the ruling belief, which most often took the form of adhesion to t petty-bourgeois, non-conformist church *How $hurch+ as opposed to the official 1nglican $hurch *5i$hurch+.

It was 2uite different in Germany where, during the second half of the 0>th century capitalism and tworkers6 movement were born simultaneously. The accelerated development of large-scale industry and agreement between the bourgeoisie and the landed proprietors who then held power meant that the workhad to fight these two enemies at the same time as a result there was a rapid growth of /ocial- emocracyThe German working class benefited from an important advantage in the formation of its new conceptionthe world, that of having available the scientific studies of 8arl !arx. These uncovered the forces andtendencies of the social development which governed the birth and future decline of the capitalist mode production and thus showed the working class what were its task and destiny. !arx, in the course of hihistorical studies, at the same time perfected a method, historical materialism, which not only uncovered relation of dependence between the course of history and the economic development of society, but whalso traced the way which leads to a naturalist conception of all mental phenomena which until then h been tied to religious and mystical theories. Thanks to this method, the materialist ideas of the /ocemocratic workers were able to develop without hindrance and to grow stronger. They were expressed inwhole literature. But this did not occur without struggle or discussion. 3or modes of both religious aatheist thought had been inherited from the bourgeois world. 1nd it often happens that when the bourgeoirenounces its former fighting positions, these are taken up by the petty bourgeoisie and the workers whonot want to accept this &betrayal of principles) and who continue the old tradition. It was thus with athewhich had come to be considered a basic and radical principle. But atheism only considered the ideologiforms without paying attention to the deeper fundamental differences between the bourgeois revolution athe proletarian revolution. It had little influence on !arxist ideas, as was reflected in practice in th programme of the /ocial emocratic ?arty where it could be read that religion is a private matter * 9eligionist <ri%atsache +. This point of view, however, had the result not only of correctly limiting the ?arty6s aimsthe economic transformation of the mode of production, but of serving as an open door through which sorts of opportunist ideas could pour through into propaganda. In the end it became and remained a mattecontroversy in the political discussions within the ?arty.

Hater, when in the 7 th century, reformism, connected with prosperity, came to dominate thinking more amore consciously, bourgeois points of view progressively took over in all spheres. The bourgeoisie, power strengthened, forced the working class to espouse its cause in the struggle for world domination tis why certainty as to the coming of /ocialism waned. This new doubt led to a revival of religious feelinamongst the workers. In Germany the acceptance of the leadership of the bourgeoisie resulted in a recedof independent and materialist ideas. It was the same everywhere.

But as soon as the working class comes to wage its struggle for power, to con2uer the factories, to mas production, all this will change. This struggle more than ever demands an ever clearer consciousness of economic aim. "nity of action is more than ever needed. The workforce must form coherent units of actio

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ideological divergences such as exist in the trade union movement cannot be admitted. The workfordiscusses its action as the unit which will carry out the task if religious divergences were to be admitted unity of this whole would be threatened and all practical action would become impossible. This is why sdivergences must be entirely kept out of the discussions amongst members of a factory. 3or it is here that most ardent, the deepest and the most self-aware social struggle develops, which no longer disguises itsunder ideological tinsel. 1 clear consciousness takes hold of the combatants. 1ll deviation from the directiwhich leads to the ob ective must be ceaselessly corrected, since it means a weakening and defeat.

It is probable, however, that, even during such a struggle, religion will play a role since it still dominates

thought of the petty bourgeoisie and the peasants. The bourgeoisie will try to organise these classes andrange them against the workers. It will first of all appeal to the instinct of property, thus disguising exploiting interest. But it will also try to give this fight an ideological form and will present it as a cl between belief and unbelief. 1nd this will make the class struggle harsher it will become more cruel as blind fanaticism comes to dominate and to replace all discussion on the sub ect in the interests of theclasses. But, here again, the strength of the working class lies in their putting the economic aim to tforefront, vi%., the organisation of work by the working and producing classes themselves, thus excludindomination by the interests of the exploiters. It is thus that all trace of the oppression of former modesthought will disappear since, with the collective management of production, the basis and condition fogenuine expansion of the thought and cultural life of all will appear. 3inally, if the economic necessitiforce these classes to collaborate with the working class, if their participation in the work of uniti promises them emancipation from all capitalist exploitation, so that the old class relations disappear, it m be expected that a new cultural life which will replace former religious convictions will flourish for thalso.

Thus, in all probability, the sources which, in the history of mankind have up until now fed the forcesreligion will dry up. 'o natural power will any longer be able to frighten !an no natural catastrophe, nostorm, no floods, no earth2uake or epidemic will be able to put his existence in danger. By ever moaccurate predictions, by an ever greater development of the sciences and of an ever more wonderftechnology, the dangers will be limited to the maximum4 no human life will be wasted. /cience and applications will make mankind the master of natural forces which it will use for its own needs. 'o powerfor not understood social force will be able to attack or frighten mankind4 they will master their fateorganising their work and at the same time master all the mental forces of the will and passion. The anguof having to go before a supreme udge who will decide the fate of each person for eternity an anguishwhich has been responsible for centuries for so many terrors for defenceless mankind will disappear asoon as co-operation between men and sacrifice for the community are no longer fettered by moral lawThus all the functions which religion fulfilled in men6s thought and feelings will be filled by other waythinking and feeling.

But will not an eternal function of religion remain4 to give consolation and certainty in the moments of dand death: The certainty of being able to ensure one6s life by one6s work, the disappearance of many of causes of premature death, poverty, illness and accident have no influence on the biological fact that ev

living being has a temporary existence. The significance of this fact, however, and its influence omankind6s ideas is strongly dependent on social relations. Belief in the survival of the mind, of the soul, psychological basis of all religion *which can already be seen forming among primitive peoples on the bof dreams+, is, in its present form, a product of the bourgeois mode of production. The very strong sentimof individual personality which has its roots in individual work carried on under one6s own responsibilitythe separation from the other6s activity, reduces this belief to the need to believe, to be convinced, that individual, in his real, i.e. mental, essence is eternal. Each individual was isolated or loosely held by thvery lax links which unite the members of any grouping in the struggle for life. 1round each individuathere existed, however, a small group, such as the family, a sort of small isolated and independent fortiftown at war with other towns. Thus the biological links between couples and between parents and child became the only solid links between men, both on the economic and material level and on the mental. T

breaking of these links, whether expectedly or unexpectedly, was in everybody6s eyes the greatest of catastrophes4 the worries which the dying had for those they left behind, the loneliness of the latter, whwas often aggravated by economic ruin, were only feebly compensated by the presence of parents afriends, who were themselves preoccupied mainly by their own struggle to live. This is why, thanks to

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belief in a new meeting in eternity for those who were separating, and to a faith in the providence to wh!an had to submit in order to be able to bear the caprices of fate, religion served for centuries as aconsolation.

ith the establishment of the new mode of production many of the reasons for believing will disappear an particularly those we have ust examined. The feeling of individuality will be profoundly changed by feeling of solidarity which will develop, to which one will dedicate oneself and from which one will derone6s greatest strength. Then, there will no longer be any need for the illusion of believing in the eternalof the individual or the soul4 it is in fact the community to which one belongs which is eternal. Everyth

which has been produced by !an, everything to which he has dedicated the best of his forces survivewithin this community. 5is mental being is eternal insofar as it forms part of the mentality of all mankiand has no need to survive as some spectre separated from it. Hinks of solidarity, much stronger than thwhich in the past united the members of the same family will unite all men. There will no longer be any nto worry about the economic conse2uences of death, nor to concern oneself for the survivors worriewhich, formerly, often made dying more distressing. 1nd the pain of having to leave for ever will weaksince the strengthened links of human fraternity will no longer retreat before feelings of isolation aloneliness. eath will lose its frightening character for a generation which will have learned, in the course a fierce struggle for its freedom, to sacrifice its own life. 1nd the feeling of love for the community whiwill thenceforth dominate will grow stronger in the community of work in which the free producers willgrouped together. 3or the fortunate generation in which the new mankind will be born, each individual lwill only be the temporary form taken by a social life which will more and more develop.

Anton Pannekoek 19+7

P&/lic O-ne!s#i and )ommon O-ne!s#iThe acknowledged aim of socialism is to take the means of production out of the hands of the capitalist cland place them into the hands of the workers. This aim is sometimes spoken of as public ownershsometimes as common ownership of the production apparatus. There is, however, a marked and fundamendifference.

?ublic ownership is the ownership, i.e. the right of disposal, by a public body representing society, bgovernment, state power or some other political body. The persons forming this body, the politicianofficials, leaders, secretaries, managers, are the direct masters of the production apparatus they direct aregulate the process of production they command the workers. $ommon ownership is the right of dispo by the workers themselves the working class itself taken in the widest sense of all that partake in reall productive work, including employees, farmers, scientists is direct master of the production apparatumanaging, directing, and regulating the process of production which is, indeed, their common work.

"nder public ownership the workers are not masters of their work they may be better treated and thewages may be higher than under private ownership but they are still exploited. Exploitation does not mesimply that the workers do not receive the full produce of their labor a considerable part must always spent on the production apparatus and for unproductive though necessary departments of societExploitation consists in that others, forming another class, dispose of the produce and its distribution tthey decide what part shall be assigned to the workers as wages, what part they retain for themselves and other purposes. "nder public ownership this belongs to the regulation of the process of production, whichthe function of the bureaucracy. Thus in <ussia bureaucracy as the ruling class is master of production a produce, and the <ussian workers are an exploited class.

In estern countries we know only of public ownership *in some branches+ of the capitalist /tate. 5ere wmay 2uote the well-known English &socialist) writer G. . 5. $ole, for whom socialism is identical wit public ownership. 5e wrote

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&The whole people would be no more able than the whole body of shareholders in a great modern enterprise to manage an ind. . . It would be necessary, under socialism as much under large scale capitalism, to entrust the actual management of indusenterprise to salaried experts, chosen for their speciali%ed knowledge and ability in particular branches of work) *p. D =+.

&There is no reason to suppose that socialisation of any industry would mean a great change in its managerial personnel) *p. D An utline of :odern ;no,ledge ed. By r . <ose, 0>90+.

In other words4 the structure of productive work remains as it is under capitalism workers subserviencommanding directors. It clearly does not occur to the &socialist) author that &the whole people) chiconsists of workers, who were 2uite able, being producing personnels, to manage the industry, that consiof their own work.

1s a correction to /tate-managed production, sometimes workers6 control is demanded. 'ow, to ask controlsupervision, from a superior indicates the submissive mood of helpless ob ects of exploitation. 1nd then ycan control another man6s business what is your own business you do not want controlled, you do?roductive work, social production, is the genuine business of the working class. It is the content of thlife, their own activity. They themselves can take care if there is no police or /tate power to keep them ofThey have the tools, the machines in their hands, they use and manage them. They do not need masterscommand them, nor finances to control the masters.

?ublic ownership is the program of &friends) of the workers who for the hard exploitation of privcapitalism wish to substitute a milder moderni%ed exploitation. $ommon ownership is the program ofworking class itself, fighting for self liberation.

e do not speak here, of course, of a socialist or communist society in a later stage of development, whe production will be organi%ed so far as to be no problem any more, when out of the abundance of prodeverybody takes according to his wishes, and the entire concept of &ownership) has disappeared. e speaof the time that the working class has con2uered political and social power, and stands before the taskorgani%ing production and distribution under most difficult conditions. The class fight of the workers in present days and the near future will be strongly determined by their ideas on the immediate aims, whet public or common ownership, to be reali%ed at that time.

If the working class re ects public ownership with its servitude and exploitation, and demands commownership with its freedom and self-rule, it cannot do so without fulfilling conditions and shouldering dut$ommon ownership of the workers implies, first, that the entirety of producers is master of the means production and works them in a well planned system of social production. It implies secondly that in shops, factories, enterprises the personnel regulate their own collective work as part of the whole. /o thhave to create the organs by means of which they direct their own work, as personnel, as well as soc production at large. The institute of /tate and government cannot serve for this purpose because it essentially an organ of domination, and concentrates the general affairs in the hands of a group of rulers. Bunder /ocialism the general affairs consist in social production so they are the concern of all, of eac personnel, of every worker, to be discussed and decided at every moment by themselves. Their organs m

consist of delegates sent out as the bearers of their opinion, and will be continually returning and reporton the results arrived at in the assemblies of delegates. By means of such delegates that at any moment c be changed and called back the connection of the working masses into smaller and larger groups can established and organi%ation of production secured.

/uch bodies of delegates, for which the name of workers6 councils has come into use, form what may called the political organi%ation appropriate to a working class liberating itself from exploitation. Tcannot be devised beforehand, they must be shaped by the practical activity of the workers themselves whthey are needed. /uch delegates are no parliamentarians, no rulers, no leaders, but mediators, expemessengers, forming the connection between the separate personnel of the enterprises, combining thseparate opinions into one common resolution. $ommon ownership demands common management of twork as well as common productive activity it can only be reali%ed if all the workers take part in this smanagement of what is the basis and content of social life and if they go to create the organs that unite thseparate wills into one common action.

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1merica, where it is sub ected to big business, this is its chief function. The workers have now over agaithem the united front of /tate power and capitalist class, which usually is oined by union leaders and parleaders, who aspire to sit in conference with the managers and bosses and having a vote in fixing wages aworking conditions. 1nd, by this capitalist mechanism of increasing prices, the standard of life of thworkers goes rapidly downward.

In Europe, in England, Belgium, 3rance, 5olland and in 1merica too, we see wild strikes flaring up, asyet in small groups, without clear consciousness of their social role and without further aims, but showinsplendid spirit of solidarity. They defy their &Habor) government in England, and are hostile to

$ommunist ?arty in government, in 3rance and Belgium. The workers begin to feel that /tate power is notheir most important enemy their strikes are directed against this power as well as against the capitamasters. /trikes become a political factor and when strikes break out of such extent that they lay flat enti branches and shake social production to its core, they become first-rate political factors. The strikthemselves may not be aware of it -neither are most socialists-they may have no intention to revolutionary, but they are. 1nd gradually consciousness will come up of what they are doing intuitively, oof necessity and it will make the actions more direct and more efficient.

/o the roles are gradually reversed. ?arliamentary action deteriorates into a mere 2uarrel of politicians, anserves to fool the people, or at best to patch up dirty old capitalism. 1t the same time mass strikes of tworkers tend to become most serious attacks against /tate power, that fortress of capitalism, and moefficient factors in increasing the consciousness and social power of the working class. /urely it is stilllong way to the end so long as we see workers going on strike and returning to work simply at the commaof an ambitious chief, they are not yet ripe for great actions of self-liberation. But looking backward on developments and changes in the past half-century we cannot fail to recogni%e the importance of thgenuine proletarian class-fights for our ideas of social revolution. 5ow thereby the propaganda-tasks fsocialists are widened, may be considered another time.

Anton Pannekoek

4evolt of the Scientists

?anic pervades the intellectual layers of 1merican society. hereas the peoples of Europe were used to warand damage, to destruction and insecurity in life, 1mericans felt safe in being separated by oceans frodangerous foes, until the atom bomb fell upon 5iroshima the first scientists, reali%ing what it meant, cathemselves Jfrightened men.J

There is no secret and there is no defense. ithin some few years <ussia and many smaller countries can

have their installations ready to make atom bombs by the hundreds, ust like 1merica, 1tom bombs are tcheapest means of town-destruction General 5. 5. 1rnold computed that destruction per s2uare mile bmeans of B-7> bombs cost 9 million dollars by means of the 5iroshima bomb only half a million *destroya value of 0D million+. $arried by airplanes or rockets, they can cross the ocean in numbers, and by ageof foreign powers--<ussia has numbers of devoted agents in every country--they can easily be smuggledand hidden, to destroy everything for miles around at the fixed moment. 1n immense army of securiofficers and spies will be needed, continually to inspect every box or case in any house. In penetrating wo"rey, one of the foremost physicists in 1merica, points out how the deadly fear of annihilation will destroall the liberties of 1merican citi%ens. 'or will an attempt to forestall the danger through world con2uest 1merica be a way out. J'ot only may our own culture be destroyed by these weapons of mass destruction but all civili%ations as they exist in the world may be retarded and weakened for centuries to come. Iadds up to the most dangerous situation that humanity has ever faced in all history.J

In this all his colleagues agree, and they rebel. They refuse now that the German war is over and won, to t part in further research for military use, to construct and perfect weapons. *The government, to break

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II

$ould anything otherwise be done, then, to prevent atomic war: $ertainly. But in order to see this, th2uestion must be put in a wider context. $an the people, in extreme cases, force its will upon the rulersdirectly, hence otherwise than by the long, notoriously illusionary way of electing an entirely new and neminded $ongress: /uppose an immediate danger of war threatens, have the working masses, provided thehave the decided will to prevent the war, any possibility of enforcing their will upon an unwilling w preparing government: They have, if they are really prepared to uphold their aim resolutely.

It must be borne in mind that a government, a ruling class cannot go to war if the people are unwilling aresisting. Therefore a moral and intellectual preparation is no less necessary than a technical aorgani%ational preparation. They know intuitively what $lausewit% the well-known German author ofarJ expressed in this way4 that in every war spiritual forces play the main role. /ystematic propaganda ithe press, on the radio and in the movies, must awaken the patriotic bellicose spirit and suppress tinstinctive but unorgani%ed resistance. /o it is certain that a decided, conscious refusal by the masses of people, manifested in an outspoken, widely heard protest, is a first-rank political factor and can havdetermining influence upon government policy. /uch protest can assume different forms of increasinstringency.

It may appear first in mass meetings voting sharp resolutions. The protest will be more effective, if--in tand hundreds--of thousands--the masses go into the streets in endless processions against such numbersriot-acts and court in unctions are meaningless. 1nd if these are not sufficient, or are suppressed by militaforce, the workers and employees in transport and industry can strike. 'ot for wages, but to save society. mass political strike is not a mechanical impediment to war, but a means of moral pressure. It is the mserious admonition to government of the resolute will of the people for peace. /urely it would be revolutionary action but as Truman said, the atom bomb is a revolutionary factor.

/uch an action is not lightly to be entered upon. Government and the ruling class will try to break thresistance with all the means of moral and physical suppression. /o it will be a hard fight, demandinsacrifices, steadfastness and endurance. The psychological factors for such a fight are not at once presentfull vigor they need time to develop under heavy spiritual strain. 1s long as citi%ens can be lulled byappealto nationalism--even in the illustrated leaflets against atomic war the star-spangled banner madeappearance--and listen to the promise that the big profits of 1merican world-domination will pour out ovthe entire business world as long as the workers go on strike and go to work at the command of some unchieftain, instead of taking action and decision over their lot entirely into their own hands--the psychologconditions for such actions of protest will be lacking. But it must be emphasi%ed that in them lies the warrant of world peace.

ill not such actions, by laming the war-preparations, play into the hands of the foe and prepare for thdefeat of the home country: Everybody in 1merica knows that <ussia is a dictatorship able to go its courunimpaired by the powerless masses, But in <ussia the workers, to the last child, know that the "/1 is ruled

by big capitalism aspiring to world-domination, and to that end is able to muster the entire 1merican peopworkers as well as middle-class. 1t least up to now. ill they, then, blame their rulers for preparing for awar of defense: Thus the ring of fate, fettering each working class to masters is closed. 5ow can it b broken:

In <ussia the workers are powerless, kept in spiritual as well as physical bondage. The 1merican workeare free to take up the fight, free to act, to read, to publish, to discuss, to instruct themselves, to combineunions, to assemble in meeting, to strike. 5ence it is only here that the fight for peace can begin. If thereany way to encourage, from the outside, resistance of oppositional elements among the <ussian massagainst the dictatorship, it consists in mass-actions of 1merican workers against capitalist power. If thshould proceed to wrench the decision on policy from big capital, the most essential step to deter the thr

of atomic war would be made.

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revolution, the workers having been its authors through their strikes and mass actions. 'evertheless, thBolshevik ?arty, little by little, later succeeded in appropriating power *the laboring class being a smminority among the peasant population+. Thus the bourgeois character *in the largest sense of the termthe <ussian <evolution became dominant and took the form of state capitalism. /ince then, due to itideological and spiritual influence in the world, the <ussian <evolution has become the exact opposite o proletarian revolution that liberates the workers and renders them masters of the productive apparatus.

3or us the glorious tradition of the <ussian <evolution consists in the fact that in its first explosions, in 0>and 0>0 , it was the first to develop and show to the workers of the whole world the organi%ational form

their autonomous revolutionary action4 the soviets. 3rom that experience, confirmed later on, on a smascale in Germany, we drew our ideas on the forms of mass action that are proper to the working class, athat it should apply in order to obtain its own liberation.

?recisely opposed to this are the traditions, the ideas, and the methods that come from the <ussia<evolution when the $ommunist ?arty takes power. These ideas, which only serve as obstacles to corre proletarian action, constituted the essence and the basis of Trotsky6s propaganda.

#ur conclusion is that the forms of organi%ation of autonomous power, expressed by the terms &soviets&workers councils) must serve as much in the con2uest of power as in the direction of productive labor athis con2uest. In the first place this is because the power of the workers over society cannot be obtainedany other way, for example by what is called a revolutionary party in the second place, because thesoviets, which will later be necessary for production, can only be formed through the class struggle f power.

It seems to me that in this concept the &knot of contradictions) of the problem of &revolutionary leadersdisappears. 3or the source of contradictions is the impossibility of harmoni%ing the power and the freedof a class governing its own destiny, with the re2uirement that it obey a leadership formed by a small groor party. But can such a re2uirement be maintained: It clearly contradicts the most 2uoted idea of !arx6i.e., that the liberation of the workers will be the task of the workers themselves. hat is more, the proletarian revolution can6t be compared to a simple rebellion or a military campaign led by a cencommand, nor even to a period of struggle similar, for example, to the great 3rench revolution, which itswas nothing but an episode in the bourgeois ascension to power. The proletarian revolution is much movast and profound it is the accession of the mass of the people to the consciousness of their existence atheir character. It will not be a simple convulsion it will form the content of an entire period in the historyhumanity, during which the working class will have to discover and reali%e its own faculties and potentiawill as its own goals and means of struggle. I attempted to elaborate on certain aspects of this revolutionmy book "es Conseils u%riers in the chapter entitled &The orkers6 <evolution.) #f course, all of thisonly provides an abstract schema that can be used to bring to the forefront the diverse forces in action atheir relations.

It6s possible that you will now ask4 ithin the framework of this orientation what purpose does a party o

group serve, and what are its tasks: e can be sure that our group won6t succeed in commanding thworking masses in their revolutionary action4 besides us there are a half-do%en or more groups or pawho call themselves revolutionary, but who all differ in their programs and ideas, and compared to the gr/ocialist ?arty, these are nothing but Hilliputians. ithin the framework of the discussion in issue number0 of your review it was correctly asserted that our task is essentially theoretical4 to find and indicathrough study and discussion, the best path of action for the working class. 'evertheless, the education bason this should not be intended solely for members of a group or party, but the masses of the working classwill be up to them to decide the best way to act in their factory meetings and their $ouncils. But in order them to decide in the best way possible they must be enlightened by well-considered advice coming fromgreatest number of people possible. $onse2uently, a group that proclaims that the autonomous action of tworking class is the principal form of the socialist revolution will consider that its primary task is to go t

to the workers, for example by means of popular tracts that will clarify the ideas of the workers explaining the important changes in society, and the need for the workers to lead themselves in all thactions, including in future productive labor.

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5ere you have some of the reflections raised by the reading of the very interesting discussions publishedyour review. In addition, IOd like to say how satisfied I was by the articles on &The 1merican worker,) wclarifies a large part of the enigmatic problem of that working class without socialism, and the instructarticle on the working class in East Germany. I hope that your group will have the chance to publish moissues of its review.

Fou will excuse me for having written this letter in English it6s difficult for me to express myssatisfactorily in 3rench.

/incerely yours,

Ant. Pannekoek

'ovember C, 0>@9

Anton Pannekoek and t#e =&est 3o! an Emanci ato!$Socialism

Aohn Gerber <eprinted 3rom J'ew ?oliticsJ @ */ummer 0>CC+

The past decade and a half has witnessed a resurgence of interest in a generation of non-orthodox !arxisthinkers who came to political maturity in the years immediately preceding and following the Bolshe<evolution, and whose theories grew out of the collapse of the /econd International, the degeneration !arxism into a mechanistic doctrine of economic determinism, and the failure of the revolutionary wavwhich swept Europe in 0>0 -0>7 . hile considerable attention has been given to thinkers such as GramsciHukacs, 8orsch, and Huxemburg, the utch !arxist 1nton ?annekoek *0C 9-0>D + has received onlyminimal attention. !oreover, much of the attention devoted to ?annekoek has often been marred by it partisan character. *0+ Fet despite this comparative neglect, ?annekoekOs theoretical work represents onthe most consistent and sustained attempts to develop !arxism as the theory and practice of threvolutionary self-emancipation of the working class. 5e remains an interesting and original thinker wmanaged to raise, if not resolve, an impressive array of 2uestions both about !arxism as a method of sociemancipation, and about the larger issues of domination and subordination in advanced industrial socieThe recurring tendency of !arxism to transform itself into statist and authoritarian systems of varying typmakes a critical appraisal of ?annekoekOs nearly six-decade-long attempt to develop an authenticemancipatory socialism seem particularly compelling.

!uch more than a purely utch figure, ?annekoek was a revolutionary intellectual with a transnationalvocation. 1n astronomer of international renown, ?annekoek was active in the left wing of utch andGerman social democracy in the years before 0>0=. 1long with <osa Huxemburg, he emerged as one of tmain leaders of the German anti-revisionist left and developed a powerful criti2ue of social democraorthodoxy. 3ollowing the outbreak of the 3irst orld ar, he was among the first to call for the formationof a new International and later became a prominent figure in the Pimmerwaid anti-war moveme1lthough he had played a pivotal role in the formation of European communism, and was a leader of t$ominternOs estern European Bureau, ?annekoek was among the first to break with authoritariacommunism. 1s the pre-eminent theorist of the JleftJ communist $ommunist orkersO ?arty of German*81? +, ?annekoek articulated an alternative est European conception of communism and a forcefulcriti2ue of Heninism which earned him HeninOs lasting hostility in JHeft- ingJ $ommunism4 1n Infanisorder. 3rom the early 0>7 s to his death in 0>D , he remained active as the leading theoretician of th2uasi-syndicalist council communist movement.

1s a theorist, ?annekoekOs specific contribution lay in his penetrating criti2ue of the !arxism of both t/econd and Third Internationals, and in his attempt to develop new anti-bureaucratic models orevolutionary transformation. 5is extensive theoretical reflections also strikingly anticipated many of t

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most fundamental theoretical contributions of the so-called estern !arxist tradition. Hike Hukacs, hearticulated the centrality of ideas and consciousness to historical development. Hike Gramsci, he soughdevelop !arxism as a philosophy of praxis and stressed the importance of combating bourgeois ideologicdomination by developing an independent proletarian ideological hegemony. Hike 8orsch, he attemptedstrip !arxism of its concern with metaphysics and highlight its importance as a critical method.

hat initially differentiated ?annekoekOs theori%ing from the mainstream of !arxist orthodoxy was hconcern with the 2uestion of Geist, or more precisely, the role of sub ective factors-class consciousneideas, will, morality, and solidarity-in social development. Intellectually, ?annekoekOs point of departure

grounded in the philosophical concepts of the German autodidact philosopher, Aoseph iet%gen, who souto extend the role of dialectics to conceptual and abstract thought. ?annekoek considered iet%gen aindispensable supplement to !arx and Engels, whose ideas were of almost e2ual importance.*7+ 3roiet%gen, ?annekoek derived the view as early as 0> 0, that the material world and the world o

consciousness constituted an inseparable entity in which each reciprocally conditions the other. ithoudeprecating the importance of the material elements, he stressed that the revolutionary struggle was, inmost essential aspects, an ideological process shaped by the diffuse flow of ideas and life experience?roletarian revolution, from ?annekoekOs standpoint, represented a victory of the mind, of historunderstanding, and revolutionary will. The consciousness of the proletariat was as much a factor affecthistorical evolution as the material factors from which it arises. ?annekoek insisted that the process leadto an emancipatory socialism could only begin with the workers striving to overturn the barriers autonomous proletarian thinking in their daily lives.

In a theory which prefigured, in less developed form, many of the main themes of the theory of ideologihegemony made famous by 1ntonio Gramsci, ?annekoek argued that the sub ugation of the working clawas not entirely due to economics and force alone, but in no small measure to the Jspiritual superiority of ruling minorityJ which Jpresides over all spiritual developments, all science. J Through its control ovinstitutions such as the schools, the churches, and the press, the bourgeoisie Jcontaminates ever-larg proletarian masses with bourgeois conceptions.J It was this Jspiritual dependenceJ on the bourgeois?annekoek argued, that represented the Jmain cause of the weakness of the proletariat.J*9+

Hike Gramsci, ?annekoek also stressed that the proletarian revolution would have to sweep away eveelement of the old society-the cultural as well as the political and economic. If the proletariat is to assertideological hegemony, it must create an autonomous proletarian culture as an essential part of trevolutionary process4 JThese crude, tattered, and uneducated proletarians, they are in reality the bearers higher culture . . . /ocialist culture is distinguished from bourgeois culture, not only by the fact that itmuch broader, but also by the fact that its inner content is completely different. This culture is one whwill place men in a completely diff erent relationship to nature, the external conditions of life, and othmen.J*=+

?rior to 0>0 , ?annekoekOs political views were still comparatively consistent with the orthodox !arxism the /econd International, as defined by thinkers such as 8autsky, Babel, and ?lekhanov. 5e remained

generally committed to the basic orthodox !arxist premise that proletarian organi%ation -in both its paand trade union forms-was a necessary counterweight to capitalist organi%ation and the social corollaryeconomic development. But what ?annekoek stressed was the sub ective and transformative 2ualities proletarian organi%ation and the direct link between the maturation of these factors in various form proletarian action.

hat most sharply distinguished proletarian organi%ation from bourgeois organi%ation, he insisted, was its numerical strength, but its capacity to generate 2ualities such as solidarity, morality, esprit, and discipliIn contrast to the individualism of bourgeois organi%ations, proletarian organi%ation was marked by s bonds, commitments, and relationships which ultimately merged into a cultural or spiritual dimensiJ#rgani%ation binds them together, unites their diverse wills into a single will, behind which rests

collective power of the masses.J *@+ Through their participation in proletarian organi%ations, the worktransformed into new men with new habits and new modes of thought. The struggles that the parties atrade unions wage would help awaken class consciousness, instill a sense of combat, break down oillusions, and generate discipline and feelings of solidarity. The Jgigantic moral elevationJ that occurs

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these struggles, ?annekoek insisted, was Ja necessary precondition for transforming the weak worker intcon2ueror of capitalism. J *D+ 3rom this standpoint, class organi%ation, consciousness, and class actioninextricably linked. ?annekoek saw in the logic of proletarian organi%ation and action a process consciousness transformation that would ultimately propel the masses toward socialism, increase th potential for critical thought, and gradually expand their capacity to rule and manage society on their own

?annekoekOs whole theoretical and political outlook underwent a dramatic reformulation in the wake of?russian suffrage demonstrations of 0>0 . hereas he had previously viewed extra-parliamentary massaction and parliamentarianism as different aspects of the same process of revolutionary development, a

defended them as e2ual in importance, he now began to denigrate the value of parliamentary activialtogether, posing it as a historically superseded form of struggle.

In shifting the main terrain of struggle from parliament to extra-parliamentary action, ?annekoek made uof the term Jmass actionJ in such a way that he transformed what had been largely a vague expression inan all-embracing slogan and an increasingly integrated revolutionary strategy. efining mass action as Jaextra-parliamentary act of the organi%ed working class, by which it operates directly and not throughmedium of delegates,J * + ?annekoek conceived of this new form of struggle less as a tactic, or even a serof tactics, but more a total orientation toward revolutionary activity. hat ?annekoek envisioned was a prolonged epoch of confrontation between the proletariat and the bourgeoisie, characteri%ed by a succesof graduated mass movements and struggles, involving actions ranging from street demonstrations to general strike. These actions would serve to educate, collectivi%e, and strengthen the proletariat for coming struggle for power , while simultaneously weakening the foundation of the capitalist state4 JEassault by the proletariat upon the individual effects of capitalism means a weakening of the power capital, a strengthening of our own power and a step further in the process of revolution.J *C+ hiconsidering the ob ective aims of mass actions important, ?annekoek felt that what was more crucial was impact these actions had on the consciousness of the working class. The end of the process of mass actihe felt, would be Jnothing less than the complete transformation of the proletarian mentality.J *>+ ?annektreated it as axiomatic that continuous mass action would also destroy the moral and i deological authoritythe bourgeoisie-its main source of strength-so that all that remained were the material instruments of force

But what was most important, indeed, theoretically decisive in ?annekoekOs formula, was his concept oJorgani%ational spiritJ *#rganisationsgeist+. 1ccording to this conception, the real nature of proletaorgani%ation comes not from the outward indicators of strength such as membership si%e, financial resouformal structures and so forth, but from the inner lives of the workers themselves, which generate feelingsolidarity, collectivity, self-sacrifice, and class identity. This spirit, he felt, was the real activating elementthe workersO movement4

The organi%ational spirit is the living soul of the labor movement which derives its power and capabilityaction from its body. But, unlike the soul of $hristian theology, this immortal soul does not float aroulifeless in the sky, but remains, in fact, always grounded in the organi%ational body, living in the commorgani%ed actions of those it oins together. This spirit is not something abstract or imaginary, put forwar

contrast to the Jreal, concrete organi%ationJ of the existing organi%ational forms, but it is, in fact, some ust as real and concrete as these forms. It binds individuals ust as firmly together as any principles statutes could ever do, so that even if their external bond of principles and statutes were severed, theindividuals would no longer be loose atoms competing against each other. *I#+

The conclusion ?annekoek drew from this was that socialism could never be achieved by the graduattainment of a parliamentary ma ority, but only by the steady erosion of the bourgeois state and thsimultaneous creation of a proletarian counter-state through the process of mass action4

1s the organi%ation of state power degenerates and its strength ebbs away, so the new form of socorgani%ation, the self-created democratic organi%ation of proletarian struggle, develops into a greater

greater power in society, taking over the functions intrinsic to the general regulation of production. *00+ith this suggestion that new working class institutional forms would supplant the existing institutionaforms in the course of the revolutionary struggle and provide the framework for the future socialist sta

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?annekoek broke new ground in !arxist theory. 3or the first time, a !arxist theorist was prepared to assertthat the essence of socialism lay not in the future state, but in the process of socialist transformation itsThese fundamental themes were built upon a substratum of ideas about the role and limitations of traditioworking class organi%ations and the relationship between leaders and masses. It was a corollary?annekoekOs analysis that the party and trade union forms of organi%ation were incapable of accomplisthe task of social transformation since they still reflected, to a considerable extent, the stability of capitasociety. In an argument which closely paralleled that of the German sociologist <obert !ichels, ?annekoemaintained that the ideological stagnation and attenuation of class conflict in the pre-war socialist and trunion movements was a direct conse2uence of their bureaucratic internal structures. 5e contended that the

gigantic and powerful organi%ations had almost become a state within a state, with their own officifinances, press, spiritual values and ideology. The thousands of officials, secretaries, agitato parliamentarians, theoreticians, and publicists formed a distinct caste, with their own narrow interests. where !ichels had focused upon organi%ational degeneration, ?annekoek chose to emphasi%e the ideologcooptation that went hand in hand with this process. 5e charged that !arxism, in this bureaucratic contexthad been stripped of its revolutionary content and deformed into the dry doctrine of mechanical fatalism. practical function was nothing more than that of a legitimi%ing ideology for a bureaucratic party elite. conse2uence, social democracy came to embody not the negation of bourgeois society, but rather expansion and rationali%ation. *07+

?annekoekOs theoretical work during the 3irst orld ar was largely an extension and reformulation of theconcepts he had developed in 0>0 . 1side from some shifts in emphasis and a few new specifics, what wnew in these formulations was largely their tone and sense of immediacy. 5e felt that the war had unleasha process of crisis and polari%ation which would ultimately give birth to a completely new typerevolutionary workersO movement. *09+ 1nd, indeed, for ?annekoek, the <ussian <evolution of 0>0 andGerman <evolution of 0>0C seemed to fully confirm this prognosis. To all appearances, the two revolutiwere almost exactly as he had predicted4 mass actions and mass strikes, largely spontaneous in characwhich found expression in new institutions of proletarian democracy-the workersO councils.

uring the years 0>0=-0>0>, ?annekoek was a close collaborator with Henin in his attempt to constructnew revolutionary International. ?annekoek, at this point, expressed few doubts or reservations about eitHenin or the Bolshevik <evolution. 5e viewed the Bolshevik <evolution largely as a popular revolutionatransformation based on the new organs of council democracy. *0=+ 5is commentary on the <ussi<evolution included almost no references to the role of the vanguard party. Hike many others of tEuropean left, ?annekoek associated Henin almost exclusively with world revolution, revolutionaactivism, uncompromising class struggle, and militant anti-parliamentarianism.

/tarting in late 0>0>, however, ?annekoek began to openly challenge the rapidly consolidating Henincommunist movement. ?annekoekOs criticism of Heninism was twofold. #n one level, he accused Heninist communist movement of attempting to restore the Jold leadership politicsJ of the /econInternational by resuming the use of traditional parliamentary and trade union tactics. 5e argued instead, tthe main tactical problem in estern Europe was to erad icate the ideological hegemony of the bourgeoisi

and replace it with an independent proletarian hegemony. This task, he felt, could not be accomplished the use of historically outdated parliamentary and trade union tactics, but through a long, arduorevolutionary struggle, waged by a militant and class-conscious working class organi%ed from below on basis of new democratic structures of proletarian rule. #n a second level, ?annekoek re ected the elitivanguardist model of party organi%ation being propagated by Henin and the $omintern as incompatible wa genuine proletarian democracy and inade2uate for the task of radicali%ing the consciousness of the masThe logic of this position led ?annekoek to raise the possibility that Heninist communism might at sofuture point become a ma or obstacle to the development of a genuine emancipatory socialism. *0?annekoek soon extended these formulations to a criti2ue of the <ussian <evolution itself. By 0>70, he hreached the drastic conclusion that the /oviet regime had been transformed into a repressive and counterevolutionary bureaucracy that had reduced the proletariat to a new condition of servitude.*0D+

3ollowing his expulsion from the international communist movement in 0>70, ?annekoek began to turn attention to developing a new theory of council communism, which marks his ma or theoreticachievement. orking in collaboration with the small utch Groepen van Internationalen $ommunisten

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*GI$+ and the 1merican Groups of $ouncil $ommunists *G$$+, ?annekoek sought to provide thframework for the emergence of a new type of revolutionary workersO movement based exclusivelyworkersO councils. ?annekoekOs starting point was his belief that a new revolutionary workersO mov based on the principle of workersO self-management could arise only after the working class discardedentire heritage of traditional socialism and adopted a completely Jnew orientation.J 5is point of departufor this Jnew orientationJ was a penetrating criti2ue of the JstatistJ and Jleader-orientedJ politics of bosocial democracy and Heninism4

J/ocialism as inherited from the nineteenth century was the creed of social mission for leaders4 to transfo

capitalism into a system of state directed economy without exploitation, producing abundance for all. It wa creed of class struggle for workers, the belief that by transforming government into the hands of thesocialists they could assure their freedom . . . 'ow it is seen that socialism in the sense of state-directe planned economy means state capitalism and that socialism is possible only in a new orientation. The norientation of production is self-direction of production, self-direction of the class struggle by meansworkersO councils. *0 +

In theori%ing the revolutionary role of the workersO councils, ?annekoek stressed that while the courepresented a higher stage of proletarian organi%ation, they were not simply replacements for the organi%ations, but the very negation of the principles underlying these organi%ations. ?annekoek remafirmly convinced that the councils would resolve the conflict between leaders and followers by eliminatthe professional leadership bodies which had gained power over the rank-and-file. 5e insisted that, in tcouncils, the entire function of leadership would be abolished and the whole class actively incorporated ithe leadership process. 1lthough ?annekoek viewed the councils as the central agent of socialitransformation, he steadfastly maintained that they could not be mechanically proclaimed or arbitrarwilled into existence by revolutionary groups. 1t the most, such groups could only propagate the idea anecessity of council organi%ation.*0C+ <ather than being tactical ob ectives in themselves, the courepresented merely the transitory organi%ational form of the class struggle and the embodiment of principle of workersO control over production4

orkersO councils does not designate a fixed form of organi%ation whose lines have been established oand for all, and for which all that remains is to perfect the details. It is concerned with a principle-thatworkersO self-management of enterprises and of production. This principle can never be reali%ed throtheoretical discussion of the best actual form it might take . . . In our era JworkersO councilsJ is synonymwith the class struggle itself . . . Thus the idea of JworkersO councilsJ has nothing in common with a progof practical ob ectives to be reali%ed tomorrow or next year. It serves solely as a connecting thread for long hard fight for freedom that still lies ahead for the working class. *0>+

3rom the standpoint of revolutionary transformation, what is primary and in the councils, therefore, is their organi%ational structure, but the spirit of rebellion that creates them. In this fighting capacity ofworking class, ?annekoek argued, resides the means of individual and collective transformation by which dependent, alienated wage laborer of capitalism becomes the active, independent, self-conscious producer

the future council state.In his analysis of how the councils would develop, ?annekoek argued that the councils could only emerspontaneously and organically out of actual working class practice and were already present in embryoform in actions such as wildcat strikes and factory occupations. 5e argued that the key factor in thtransformation of wildcat strikes and factory occupations into workersO councils would be the stcommittees that the workers organi%e to coordinate these actions. These committees, he felt, embodiedtwo most essential elements of council organi%ation4 direct democracy and a class community. #ncewildcat strikes and factory occupations develop into national and class-wide movements, they wimmediately come into conflict with the capitalist state, which will re2uire a higher level of organi%atiois at this point, felt ?annekoek, that the workersO councils would begin to make their appearance, expan

their role simultaneously with the revolution until the capitalist state is destroyed. *7 +?annekoek envisioned the wildcat strike and factory occupation tactics, at least in part, as a form of rebellagainst the traditional trade unions. 5e argued that in advanced capitalism the trade unions had lost all trac

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of their former proletarian identity and had become an integrative mechanism of capitalism. 5e saw tunions as Jthe apparatus by which monopolistic capital imposes its conditions upon the entire workiclass.J *70+ Because of their commitment to the principles of capitalist rationality, the trade unions conever raise the issue of workersO control, since it would threaten the very source of their power. ?annekargued that since the trade unions, and for that matter the political parties, were based on the principledominance by leaders, they were a faithful reproduction of the capitalist state and would be a steadfast aof the bourgeoisie in any revolution. 1 rebirth of the workersO movement, he insisted, was possible onlythe basis of a rebellion of the masses against the old organi%ations. *77+

In ?annekoekOs model of revolutionary transformation, the workersO councils served a dual purpose. represented, in the first instance, the direct organs of struggle and hence the material and spiritual baserevolution in a specific phase of capitalism and, in the second instance, they constituted the infrastructuand the organi%ational arrangement of the new society.

In his book, J orkersO $ouncilsJ, the most comprehensive statement of his council communist positio?annekoek attempted to detail exactly how the council system would function in practice. hat ?annekoekenvisioned was a network of autonomous factory-level councils, each of which would be the locus discussions and decisions for matters of local production. In plants too large to assemble all the workedelegates would be selected from the various work groups who would be sub ect to instant recall. Tcouncils were not to be composed of experts, nor were they to be responsible for the administration of factory. Their main function would be to carry out the de cisions of the workers, facilitate discussions, andserve as a liaison between the various work groups and factories. 1s hypothesi%ed by ?annekoek, the lofactory councils would be merged into a variegated network of collaborating regional, national, and induswide councils, so that production constitutes a single interconnected entity. To coordinate the work of local councils, central councils would be formed on the same structure as the larger local councils *i.e.on principle of shop floor delegates sub ect to immediate recall+. 1lthough the central councils were to responsible for coordination, collection of data, and dissemination of information they would not planning bodies. That task was to be left to the workers in the local councils, who, once in possession of necessary information, would be in a position to make the critical decisions and convey them to the delegaof the central council. Beyond this, the central councils were to be responsible for maintaining hori%ocooperation between factories in the same branch of industry and vertical cooperation between the factorthat provide them with materials or use their prod ucts. To supplement this network of factory counc?annekoek envisioned a parallel network of councils for consumer and professional groups. *79+

?annekoek took it for granted that this new structure of democratic self-management, combined with tchanges in the productive sphere- increased productivity and rapid technological development-that woaccompany it, would completely revolutioni%e the nature of work. 5e assumed that the continudevelopment of the council society would undermine the traditional division between intellectual amanual labor, transforming work from a means of survival into a means of self-expression. In ?annekoehypothetical schema, the role of labor had almost 2uasi-religious significance4 J3or the free worker of future the handling of the perfectly constructed machine, providing a tension of acuteness, will be a sou

of mental exaltation, of spiritual re oicing, of intellectual beauty.J*7=+ ?annekoekOs paradigm of the fsociety was also postulated on the assumption that this new structure of workersO self- management provfor the first time, the possibility for transforming production into a mentally dominated process.J envisioned by ?annekoek, in one of his more utopian moments, this transformation was to be accomplish by an elaborate new system of statistics and bookkeeping which would make all aspects of the econom process fully accessible to the producers. Through a network of interconnected computing offices, ea branch of production would have responsibility for collecting and disseminating statistical data arendering it into easily comprehensible form, by means of tables, graphs, and pictures, as a precondition discussion by the workers in the councils. *7@+

3rom this perspective, ?annekoek maintained that the councils would manifest themselves not only as

form of proletarian self-organi%ation, but also as a principle for the liberation of the mind from all formsubordination and domination. The advent of a network of councils, he argued, would signal a highadvanced state of proletarian consciousness and the prelude to a Jtotal revolution in the spiritual life of m*7D+ In ?annekoekOs ideal of council democracy, the councils would assume critical pedagogical func

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which would transform the mind from a concern with self to a concern with the community and societylarge. The Jworld of workersO councils,J he insisted, would be structured around a new organi%atioknowledge based on the ac2uisition of new intellectual tools by producers.*7 +

1lthough he was a seminal figure in the development of estern !arxism and pioneered many importantnew insights, ?annekoekOs work as a !arxist theorist was not without serious flaws, which greatundermined the effectiveness of his ideas. 3or all his concern with renovating !arxism, ?annekoekOs thougfailed to transcend the essentially static categories of nineteenth century !arxism4 its confinin philosophical materialism, reductionist methodology, rationalist psychology, theoretical dogmatism, an

cataclysmic JbarricadesJ conception of socialism. In spite of his nominal voluntarism, ?annekoek-like m!arxists of his generation-remained firmly anchored to an almost $omtean faith in science and a rigid lnear conception of historical progress. 5is unwillingness to 2uestion the orthodox !arxist assumption tha production constitutes the basis of all social life led him to a form of ardent productionism that uncriticaccepted the basic structure and content of capitalist industriali%ation4 unlimited industrial productiongrowth, rationali%ation of production, cost efficiency and glorification of the work ethic. To the end oflife, ?annekoek refused to abandon his faith in a romantici%ed monolithic proletariat as the sole agensocialism. These shortcomings were compounded by a number of serious methodological flaws. 5is writinwere often written at a high level of generality and driven toward predetermined revolutionary goaThroughout his career, ?annekoek was often unwilling to wrestle with fundamental 2uestions or probe inthe foundations of his central assumptions and concepts. 1bstracting from the bewildering particulars experience, he often pro ected large generali%ations and then attempted to 2ualify them by an unduly lituse of analogy and social metaphor. Even during his best moments as a theorist, broad schematic patternsthe decline of capitalism and the rise of socialism clouded the more immediate strategic realities he soughelucidate.

It remains true that for all the intensity and originality of his effort, ?annekoek never succeeded in theori%his ideas into an effective political practice or in developing a permanent alternative to Heninism and sodemocracy-although elements of his doctrines have appeared periodically in various social movemen?annekoekOs legacy, therefore, is largely a personal and moral one-but it is an important legacy of a dedicated to the vision of a radically free and democratic society, a life lived in the grips of a powerfhumanitarian commitment. '#TE/

0. The only detailed studies of ?annekoek to emerge thus far are my own dissertation, J1nton ?annekoeand the /ocialism of orkersO /elf-Emancipation, 0C 9-0>D J *?h dissertation, "niversity of isconsin,0>C=+ and !arinus BoekelmanOs JThe evelopment of the /ocial and ?olitical Thought of 1nton?annekock, 0C 9-0>D 4 3rom /ocial emocracy to $ouncil $ommunismJ *?h dissertation, "niversity ofToronto, 0>C +. !uch more plentiful are the anthologies of ?annekoekOs writings, many of which aannotated and with introductory comments. These include4 /erge Bricianer, ?annekoek and the orkerO$ouncils */t. Houis4 Telos ?ress,0> C+ $a o Brendel, 1nton ?annekoek, Theoretiku s van het /ocialism*'i megen4 /ocialistische "itgeveri 'i megen, 0> + .1. /mart *ed.+, ?annekoek and GorterOs !arxism

*Hondon4 ?luto ?ress, 0> C+ 1nton ?annekoek, 'eubestimmung des !arxismus * est Berlin4 8ramerKerlag , 0> =+ 1nton ?annekoek, ?arri , raden, revolutie *1msterdam4 Kan Gennep, 0> 7+ 5ans !anfredBock, 1nton ?annekoek und 5erman Gorter4 #rganisatie und Taktik der ?roletarischen <evolutie*3rankfurt4 Keriag 'eue 8ritik, 0>D>. These are supplemented by a number of articles4 ?aul !attick, J1nto?annekoek,J 'ew ?olitics * inter , 0>D7+ ?aul !attick, J1nton ?annekoek und die eltrevolutie,JAahrbuch 1rbeiterbewegung D *3rankfurt4 3ischer Kerlag, 0> > 5ans !anfred Bock, J1nton ?annekoek ider Korkriegs-/o%ialdemokratie4 Bericht und okumentation,J Aahrbuch 1rbeiterbewegung 9, *3rankf3ischer Kerlag, 0> =+ 5. /churer, J1nton ?annekoek and the #rigins of Heninism,J The /lavonic and EastEuropean <eview *Aune 0>D9+.

7. ?annekoek, JThe ?osition and /ignificance of A. iet%genOs ?hilosophical orks,J in4 Aoseph iet%ge

The ?ositive #utcome of ?hilosopy *$hicago4 $harles 5. 8err, 0> D+. 3or a full discussion of iet%geninfluence on ?annekoek see my essay4 JThe ?hilosophical 3oundations of 1nton ?annekoekOs !arxism,J iBricianer, ?annekoek and the orkersO $ouncils, op. cit., pp.0-9 .

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9. ?annekoek, J e 3ilosofie van 8ant en het !arxisme,J e 'ieuvi,e Ti d, 0> 0, pp.@=>-@D=, D @-D7 , DD>D C.

=. ?annekoek, J/o%ialismus als 8ulturmacht,J JPeitungskorresponden%,J ecember 7=, 0>00. 3rom 0> C0>0= while a full-time militant in the German /? , ?annekoek wrote a regular series of weekly newspapecolumns which were sent to subscribing local /? publications. The dates cited are those of the proof copiecontained in the ?annekoek 1rchives at the Intemational Institute for /ocial 5istory *1msterdam+.

@. ?annekoek, ie Taktischen ifferen%en in der 1rbeiterbewegung *5amburg4 Erdmann ubber, 0> >+, p

0 C.D. lbid., p. >=.

. ?annekoek, J ie !assenstreikdebatte,J JPeitungskorresponden%,J Aune 0C, 0>0 .

C. ?annekoek, J!arxistische Theorie und revolutioniire Taktik,J ie 'eue Peit, 0>07-0>09, vol. 0, pp. 7 7-7C0, 9D@-9 9. This work was part of ?annekoekOs famous 0>07 polemic with 8arl 8autsky. 1n Engtranslation can be found in4 /mart *ed.+, ?annekoek and GorterOs !arxism, op. cit., pp. @ - 9.

>. ?annekoek, J!assenaktion und <evolution,J ie 'eue Peit, 0>00-0>07, vol. 00, pp.@=0-@@ , @C@-@>

0 . ?annekoek, J!arxistische Theorie und revolutioniire Taktik,J op. cit.

00. ?annekoek, J ie Eroberung der 5errschaft, Peitungskorresponden%, J /eptember I , 0>07.

07. /ee in particular4 J ie #rganisation im 8ampf,J JPeitungskorresponden%,J 1pril >, 0>0J/o%ialdemokratische "nteroffi%iere,J 'ovember 0> > J er Imperialismus und die 1ufgaben des?roletariats,J Korbote, number one *Auly 0>0D+.

09. /ee his4 JThe ownfall of the Intemational,J The 'eii, <eview *'ovember 0>0=+.

0=. ?annekoek, J e <ussische revolutie,J e 'ieuwe Ti d, 0>0 , pp. =9C-=@7, @=C-@D 0>0C pp. 90-=00>-0=7.

0@. ?annekoek, eltrevolution und 8ommunistische Taktik *Kienna4 Kerlag der 1rbeiterbuchhandlun0>7 +. 3or an English translation see4 J orld <evolution and $ommunist Tactics,J in4 /mart *Ed.+?annekoek and GorterOs !arxism, op. cit., pp. >9-0 9.

0D. ?annekoek, J<usland en het 8ommunisme,J e 'ieuwe Ti d, 0>70, pp. D= -DD0.

0 . ?annekoek, orkersO $ouncils *!elboume4 /outhem 1dvocate for orkersO $ouncils, 0>@0+, pp. 79 -

790. ?arts one and two of this work have been reprinted in4 The <ise of the orkersO !ovement*$ambridge4 <oot and Branch, 0> @+.

0C. ?annekoek Mpseudonym Aohn 5arperN, J orkersO $ouncils,J 'ew Essa-i,s *1pril 0>9D+.

0>. ?annekock, J "ber 1rbeiterate, J 3unken *Aune 0>@7+.

7 . ?annekoek Mpseudonym Aohn 5arperN, JGeneral <emarks on the \uestion of #rgani%ation,J Hiv!arxism *'ovember, 0>9C+.

70. ?annekoek, orkersO $ouncils, op. cit., p. DC.

77. ?annekoek Mpseudonym Aohn 5arperN, JTrade "nionism,J International $ouncil $orresponde*Aanuary 0>9D+.

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79. ?annekoek, orkersO $ouncils, op. cit., pp. 0 -77, =D-@=.

7=. Ibid., p. @D.

7@. Ibid., p. 7 .

7D. Ibid., p. @ .

7 . It was on these grounds that, shortly after the 5ungarian revolution of 0>@D, ?annekoek critici%ed

workersO councils that emerged for their failure to articulate a new level of consciousness and for temphasis on Jpure practice J ?annekoek JBeschavingen J ?annekoek 1rchives op cit folder 7C

Anton Pannekoek Reader

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