The Prophet: Deutscher’s Trotsky

“There is now no one except me to carry out the mission of arming a new generation with the revolutionary method…”

– Trotsky, Diary in Exile

The Old Testament prophets belonged to a religious order devoted to the study of sacred texts, which they interpreted, and from which they proclaimed the obligations of the leaders of their nation to the people. From these scriptures they envisioned the coming of the Messiah, who would usher in an era of justice and goodwill toward men.

Like the prophets, the young Russians drawn to the Bolshevik Party were devoted to the study of what they considered sacred texts, the classics of Marxism. From the interpretation of these they identified their people, the working class, and proclaimed its unique role in overthrowing capitalist society. Socialism would be the result of an international revolution led by the working class, and would consist of democratic control of the state and the economy.

Leon Trotsky was one of these young Russians, and Isaac Deutscher’s The Prophet is the definitive biography of his life and times. I first read it in the late sixties, as a college student and activist against the War in Vietnam. Not only was it was the beginning of my Marxist education, but it was the most thrilling tale about the most extraordinary human being that I had ever encountered.  Just consider his career:

President of the Petersburg Soviet. Chief Counsel for its defense. Director of the October Insurrection. Creator of the Red Army and victor in the Civil War. Inspirer of the Communist International.  Marxist theorist of “Permanent Revolution” and “Fascism”. Author of the History of the Russian Revolution. Leader of the Stalinist Oppositions.  Exile railing against Hitler’s rise to power. Repository of the memory of the working class movement. I urge you to follow this man-of-many-lives through Deutscher’s magnificent portrait. This essay is merely a sketch of his life and thought.


On October 26, 1879, Lev (or Leon) Bronstein was born, one of a number of sisters and brothers, on a prosperous farm in the “…peaceful and sunlit steppe of the southern Ukraine (15)…” The Bronsteins were Jews who lived in a farming colony outside the ‘pale’, the over-crowded ghettos of Russia in the western provinces annexed from Poland. His father, David, was “…illiterate, indifferent to religion…(a) hard-working farmer…determined to develop his farm into a flourishing estate (17)…” His mother, Anna, unlike her husband, was of the middle-class, interested in Russian literature and an orthodox Jew. He had a comfortable childhood:

“…The Bronstein’s cottage was built of clay and had five rooms…During Lyova’s childhood the family grew in wealth and importance. The crops and herds of cattle were on the increase; new farm buildings     sprang up around the cottage. Next to the cottage stood a big shed containing a workshop, the farm kitchen and the servants’ quarters (18)…”

At the age of seven, his parents sent him to a school a few miles away, where he stayed with relatives. There, he learned to read and write. Returning home, he “…wrote compositions, recited verses…began to help his father with accounts and book-keeping. Often he would be shown off to visiting neighbors…he grew accustomed to receiving admiration (21, 22)…” A few years later he moved to Odessa, where his relatives, the Spentzers, introduced him to the Russian poets, Tolstoy and Dickens. They selected a school for him to attend, where he became the top pupil in his class. This only added to his growing self-confidence:

“…He was handsome…took unusual care with his appearance: neat and tidy, well and even stylishly dressed…dutiful and well-mannered. Like many a gifted youth, he was also strongly self-centered and eager to excel (25)…”

At the Spentzers, who owned a publishing house, the fifteen-year-old fell in love with language and the world of literature.  A local author happened to read one of his essays, and expressed praise for the young boy’s talent. He also became enamored with the theater and Italian opera. In addition to literature, he was fascinated by pure mathematics, and argued with his practical father about his future career. In 1896, he left Odessa for Nikolayev, where he was to complete his secondary education. Lodging with a family whose sons were familiar with socialist ideas, he first made acquaintance with the worldview to which he would dedicate his life:

 “…The talks about prevailing social injustice and about the need to change the country’s whole way of life had already started a ferment in his thoughts. The Socialists’ arguments brought out and focused the scenes of poverty and exploitation that since childhood had been stored in his mind (32)…”

Now he met a gardener, Franz Shvigovsky, who in a hut in an orchard outside of town, sponsored a discussion group for students and workers. A single member of the circle, Alexandra Sokolovskaya, spoke on behalf of Marxism; the others represented the Narodnik tradition of peasant radicalism. These were the years of revolutionary revival. In 1896, the year young Bronstein left Odessa, students and workers, who considered themselves Marxists, were springing up throughout the country. In that very year they were asked to take an oath of allegiance to the new Tsar, Nicholas II. In cities, in large numbers, these students had refused.  And at the Tsar’s coronation, a police riot broke out which resulted in thousands being killed or injured. The coronation was followed by a strike of 30,000 Petersburg workers, one of unprecedented scale in the nation’s history.

It was during this time that a Marxist organization, the Union of Struggle for the Emancipation of the Working Class, founded by Lenin, Martov and Potresov, began to demonstrate its influence:

“…The new socialism relied primarily on the industrial worker. It repudiated terrorism. It recognized the need for further capitalist industrialization in Russia, through which the working class would grow in numbers and strength. Its immediate purpose, however, was to fight for civil liberties and to move the workers to economic and political action and organization (34, 35)…’

It was in this heated atmosphere that the young Bronstein first entered into debate with Alexandra Sokolovskaya in their circle at Shvigorsky’s orchard. He was the “…’most audacious and determined controversialist’ of the group and spoke with ‘pitiless sarcasm’ about the theories of Karl Marx, as expounded by the young woman (35)…” In the summer of 1897 he graduated with first-class honors. On vacation at their family home, the returning son became embroiled in arguments with his father over politics. His father forbid that he return to the bad influence of Shvigorsky’s orchard. But young Bronstein had refused to submit to paternal authority. He moved out of their family home and gave up his allowance. Now he took up private tutoring, moving into Shivgovsky’s hut. Later, he entered the University of Odessa, where he showed an exceptional gift for mathematics. Here, he also came into contact with the burgeoning radical movement.

Then, in the spring of 1897, a girl imprisoned in the Peter-Paul fortress for her political convictions committed suicide, burning herself alive. The universities exploded with protest. In reprisal, large numbers of students were deported. Young Bronstein and his circle were finally moved to pass from words to action. He made contact with revolutionary groups in Odessa and nearby cities, creating a Marxist organization in Nikolayev called the Southern Russian Workers’ Union:

“…About 10,000 workers were employed in the docks and factories of Nikolayev, mostly skilled and well-paid craftsmen with enough leisure to read…they had no organization…He recruited the first members…He grouped them in small circles which met regularly. Before the year was out the Union counted about 200 members…This transformation of the boy, who the year before seemed a rich man’s worldly son, into the founder of a clandestine organization…was startlingly rapid…He needed a cause to serve, a cause exacting sacrifice; and when he found it, his youthful and passionate temperament came into the open…he was…the moving spirit, the mouthpiece, the organizer (40-42)…”

The Union circulated leaflets and a newspaper to the workers in the docks and factories. Young Bronstein, himself, wrote, copied and illustrated this literature; he supervised its distribution, as well. Between bouts of writing, the group held the usual meetings and endless discussions. Although most of the editorials called for purely economic gains, the modest success of this venture convinced him of the power of the written word. Sokolovskaya, a member of the organization who would later become his first wife, described the young revolutionary:

“…he could be very tender and sympathetic but also very assertive and arrogant; in one thing only he never changed, in his devotion to the revolution. ‘In all my experience I have never met any person so completely consecrated’ (45)…”

But this was Tsarist Russia, and the consequences of organizing workers were dire.  Young Bronstein was now arrested in Nikolayev and transferred to a prison at Kherson, where he was kept for several months:

“…Through a bitterly cold winter they kept him in strict isolation in a tiny, unheated, unaired, and vermin-ridden cell…Starved, dirty, covered with lice, he paced his cell…This treatment…was still milder than that meted out to a few other members of the union, who under torture were committing suicide… or breaking down and agreeing to serve as informers…he was at last transferred to a prison in Odessa, in which he was to remain for a year and a half…The prison was overcrowded and alive…(He) began to transform his own experience into literature (46, 47)…”

During the two and a half years of his detention, Bronstein read widely in politics and world literature. At the end of this period he was deported to Siberia with a four-year sentence. He was first taken to prison in Moscow, where he met experienced revolutionaries from all over Russia. It was here that he first heard of Lenin, and read his path-breaking The Development of Capitalism in Russia. Despite the hardships, Bronstein lost none of his self-confidence, and went on reading, debating and writing. He led a hunger strike and numerous demonstrations in solidarity with his fellow prisoners. This led to his confinement in solitary, once again. Before his journey into exile, he married his comrade, Alexandra Skolovskaya. Their lengthy passage by a series of trains led to distant Siberia, and the god-forsaken village of Ust-Kut. It was here that he first plunged into Marx’s Capital, ‘…brushing the cockroaches off the pages…”

From Ust-Kut, the Bronsteins moved with their newly-born daughter to Verholensk, the oldest of the Siberian settlements. Here, they lived in relative comfort. Bronstein quickly became the leader of the recently established Social Democratic Siberian Union. It was by this time the spring of 1901, and once again demonstrations were deutchertrottaking place in the universities and strikes breaking out in the cities. Students and workers were arrested: some deported; others conscripted into the army. This upsurge in the Tsarist opposition was totally lacking in national leadership. Abroad, the older generation of Marxists, Plekhanov, Lenin and Martov, advocated a national organization in their newly-founded newspaper Iskra (The Spark). Young Bronstein wrote an essay in agreement, advocating the type of party that would later be championed by the Bolsheviks. He also wrote literary essays – on Nietzsche, Spencer and Ibsen for an Irkutsk newspaper – as he began to develop his talent as a literary critic.

In the summer of 1902, after four and a half years of exile, Bronstein first read Lenin’s What is to be done?  Impatient with Siberian exile, he and his wife had longed to escape. He was now twenty-three years old, and Sokolovskaya had just given birth to their second daughter. Realizing that he was destined for greatness – and shouldering the burden of their two young children – she now urged that he attempt escape.

On a summer night, in 1902, he had hidden under a load of hay in a peasant’s cart, which slowly made its way to the village of Irkutsk. A false passport was provided by friends, in which he first assumed the name of ‘Trotsky’, his jailer. His long journey eventually led to Samara, where Iskra’s Russian headquarters were located. Preceded by his literary reputation, he was nicknamed “the pen” by one of Lenin’s associates. A glowing report of his talents was sent to London, Iskra’s main headquarters, where Lenin urged that the young man report. Now began Trotsky’s career in the Russian Social Democratic (i.e. Marxist) movement.

In London he met Iskra’s editorial board: Plekhanov, Vera Zasulich and Axelrod, veterans of the older generation; and Lenin, Martov and Potresov, leaders of the younger. All were extraordinary individuals. The professorial Plekhanov was “the father of Russian Marxism”. Vera Zasulich, in the year before Trotsky’s birth, had, as a peasant radical, attempted the assassination of the Tsarist General Trepov.  Martov, a Jew like Trotsky, was the descendant of a family of Hebrew scholars; and had, with Lenin, founded the Union of Struggle for the Emancipation of Workers. But Trotsky soon realized that “Lenin was made of different stuff.” Years before, his elder brother, Alexander, had been executed – hung from the gallows – for an unsuccessful attempt on the life of the Tsar. So Lenin knew the price of failure:

“His task, as he saw it, was to infuse in them a spirit of realism…train them in precise, efficient methods of work…his mind moved along a single track, but that track was as broad as society itself and it led to the transformation of society (71)…”

In July 1903, nine months after Trotsky’s arrival in London, the second congress of the Russian Social Democratic Party took place. It was at this congress that the historic split between Menshiviks and  Bolsheviks (minority and majority) had occurred. Already, Trotsky’s unique gift as an orator was apparent to his listeners, who described “…the elan, the passion, the wit, and the thunderous metallic voice, with which he roused audiences (79)…” The issues that motivated the split concerned the nature of the party and its membership. Lenin insisted that members be activists, participants in the daily work of the organization. For him, the party should organize only the “vanguard” of the working class, its most class-conscious and devoted members. To fight the mighty Tsarist Empire, a party must possess the discipline of a military staff and its army. In contrast, Martov advocated a less demanding standard of membership, one that included dues-paying individuals and financial supporters, as well. The demarcation line between the working class and its party was the issue at stake.

At the congress Trotsky had sided with the Menshiviks (which he would soon leave). And he assailed Lenin with such invective, that it left a scar on their relationship for years. In April 1904, Trotsky left the staff of Iskra; and in August of that year, he wrote Our Political Tasks, in which he lambasted Lenin once again. Years later, when he came to agree with Lenin, Trotsky would regret nothing so much as what he had said on that occasion. And these words would return to haunt him: used time after time against him by his political opponents. It is worth examining them because they were the first example of Trotsky’s “prophetic vision”. He had compared the future Russian Revolution to its French precursor, and Lenin to its leader, Robespierre. Then he described the process of its degeneration:

“…Lenin’s method leads to this: the party organization…at first substitutes itself for the party as a whole; then the Central Committee substitutes itself for the organization; and finally a single ‘dictator’ substitutes himself for the Central Committee (100)…”

Trotsky’s analogy with Robespierre and the French Revolution was, at that time he was writing, pure fantasy. Nevertheless, his clairvoyant imagination cast Lenin in the very role that would later be assumed by Stalin. As our author suggests:

“…yet this was the faithful mirror of the future, although the Russian Robespierre shown in it was to be not so much Lenin as his successor…Moreover, the mirror showed in advance the stages through which, in its ’substitutism’, the party of the revolution would move…And then there is the…image of the morbidly suspicious dictator , ‘invested with the power to degrade and liquidate’, who sees enemies creeping from every crevice around him (105, 106)…”

Like the Old Testament prophets, Trotsky “…was possessed of a sixth sense…an intuitive sense of history (107)…” This would not be the last time that he foresaw a vision that would later come to pass.

Moving to Paris, Trotsky now met his second wife, Natalya Sedova, a student of the fine arts. “…She was to remain his companion for the rest of his life and to share with him the full triumph and defeat (81)…” While abroad, Trotsky immersed himself in the study of Marxism and the history of the working-class movement.             

Then, on the January 23, 1905, “Bloody Sunday”, the workers of Petersburg, led by a Tsarist spy, Father Gapon, marched in a peaceful procession to the Winter Palace to present a petition to the Tsar. Refusing to receive it, the Tsar ordered his troops to open fire on the crowd: 800 unarmed civilians were killed. Thus, the first Russian Revolution had begun. For the classic account of these events, there is no substitute for Trotsky’s 1905. In the Preface to the First Edition, he says:

“The events of 1905 formed a majestic prologue to the revolutionary drama of 1917…The revolution of 1905 grew directly out of the Russo-Japanese war, just as the revolution of 1917 was the direct outcome of the great imperialist slaughter…a general strike of the proletariat with its subsequent transformation into an armed rising would become the fundamental form of the Russian Revolution (p. 7)…”

Trotsky now returned to Kiev, where he met Leonid Krasin, second in command to Lenin in the Bolshevik Pary; together they had travelled to Petersburg. Having returned to Russia ahead of the other Social Democratic leaders, Trotsky found himself at the forefront of the movement. In October, a general strike took place in Petersburg. Beginning with the printers’ purely economic demands, it quickly spread to other industries and to the provinces, assuming the political character of a “mass strike” (Rosa Luxemburg):

“…A tremendous wave of strikes swept the country from end to end, convulsing the entire body of the nation…The strike involved something like a million men and women. For almost two months, without any plan…the strike ruled the land (p. 98, 1905)…”

Now sprang into being an institution new to history – the first Council, or Soviet of Workers’ Deputies. Only during the Paris Commune of 1871 had such a radically democratic body first been anticipated:

“The nucleus of the Soviet was set up by the strikers of fifty printing shops, who elected delegates and instructed them to form a council. These were soon joined by delegates of other trades…The Soviet instantaneously gained an extraordinary authority. This was the first elective body which represented the hitherto disenfranchised working classes (135, 36)…”

Trotsky appeared before the Soviet on October 15th, and was elected to its Executive. He rapidly rose to the role of spokesman, author of manifestoes and its chief moving spirit. In November, Lenin’s return to Russia enabled the disputes between Menshiviks and Bolsheviks to be put aside. The two factions had once again united:

“…Trotsky, invited by Krasin to a meeting of the Bolshevik Central Committee, urged its members to join the Soviet without any preliminary conditions. No party or group, he pleaded, could aspire to exclusive leadership. The Soviet should be a broad representative body embracing all shades of working-class opinion, for only then would it be able to provide a united leadership in the general strike and in the revolutionary situation that might develop (136)…”

On October 17, in panicked reaction to the mass strike, the Tsar issued a Manifesto promising a constitution, civil liberties and universal suffrage. Learning of the Manifesto, a huge crowd had rushed through the streets of Petersburg with Trotsky in their midst. They marched towards the University, where numerous meetings were held and speakers had harangued them. Now Trotsky thrust himself through the crowd and up to the balcony, above, to address them:

“…citizens! Our strength is in ourselves…The Tsar’s Manifesto…is only a scrap of paper.’

With a theatrical gesture he flourished the Manifesto in front of the crowd and angrily crumpled it in his fist:

‘Today it has been given us and tomorrow it will be taken away and torn into pieces as I am now tearing  it into pieces…before your very eyes (139)…”

Trotsky’s proceeded to analyze the weaknesses of the 1905 Revolution. The movement was still confined to the workers in the cities; it had as yet to penetrate the vast peasant countryside. The nation was composed of a tiny working class, a capitalist class (who feared the workers more than they did the Tsar), and a huge peasantry, who made up the army. And this peasant army had yet to be infected by the spirit of the revolution.  Above all:

“…the working class was unarmed; and it could not get arms, in sufficient quantity, until the army itself was in rebellion…it takes time before the prevalent rebellious mood seeps through to the barracks. The mood in the Russian army depended on the state of mind of the peasantry (140)…”

The Petersburg Soviet elected its Executive, with Trotsky as their leader. He spoke on its behalf, wrote its manifestos and edited its newspaper. But because of the isolation and weakness of movement, the general strike had finally been called off. A solemn funeral was now held for its martyrs. “…A general strike could not be waged indefinitely. Its sequel ought to be insurrection, but for this the Soviet was not ready (144)…”

After fifty days, the Petersburg Soviet was surrounded by the Tsar’s military, and its members arrested. But, in the prisons to which they were taken, they were allowed to meet and engage in politics. Here, Trotsky prepared the Soviet’s defense at trial, his prison cell becoming “a sort of library”.  He had also begun writing his first major contribution to Marxism, the theory of “Permanent Revolution”. Deutscher calls it “…the most radical restatement…of the prognosis of Socialist revolution undertaken since Marx’s Communist Manifesto (p. 160)…” Let us attempt a sketch of this theory.

Marxists had expected socialist revolution to first occur in the industrialized nations of Europe.  Each revolution would occur in “stages”, with the “tasks” of uprooting feudal and capitalist institutions accomplished before proceeding to those required to build socialism. That it should instead take place in backward Russia, was the result of its peculiar development within world capitalism:

“The military pressure of superior European power, not the impulses coming from Russian society, molded that state…”;

“The state, and not private enterprise, had laid the foundations of modern industry…”;

“Thus, the economic preponderance of the state, the numerical weakness of the middle classes…all combined to make Russian bourgeois liberalism stillborn. Yet modern industry…brought the proletariat to the fore. The more belatedly Russian industry expanded, the more readily did it adopt the most advanced forms of organization…The few modern factories that Russia did possess were larger and more concentrated than any western European or even American establishments. Consequently, the political strength of the Russian proletariat, its capacity to organize itself and to act…was all the more concentrated (p. 161-63)…”

Trotsky argued that only Russia’s small but strategically situated proletariat, rather than its weak capitalist class, could provide leadership for the revolution. And that the very notion of “stages” (e.g. feudal, capitalist, socialist) was outmoded. The “permanence” of the revolution would be expressed by the fact that at no time should the working class cease to fight for its own interests. Each country’s revolution must proceed immediately from capitalist to socialist tasks, and then to internationalist support for revolutions abroad. Because of the power of the world market (with its uneven distribution of resources and technology), no nation could hope to succeed in building socialism unless it was followed by and supported by others. This was especially true in the case of “backward” Russia. Finally, under no circumstance should the support of other nation’s revolutions be subordinated to the defense of one already accomplished. The extension of the revolution to other nations was the only way to defend the long-run interests of the international working class.

The trial of the Petersburg Soviet began on September 19, 1906. A state of siege had been declared in the district; the courtroom was surrounded by Cossacks and tsarist police. For several weeks attorneys conducted the defense, examining hundreds of witnesses. “So striking was the evidence that the Soviet had had overwhelming popular support…that the prosecution could not base its case on these activities and concentrated instead on the count of insurrection (p. 174)…”

On October 4, Trotsky rose to speak to this charge. He explained that a general strike created a condition of dual power, one in which the state could not provide necessary services to the public. Hundreds of thousands of workers had been thrown out of the factories into the streets, and had suddenly become conscious of their condition. This consciousness had led to the creation of the democratically-elected factory committees and the Petersburg Soviet. With the Tsar’s regime paralyzed, due to the general strike, only the Soviet could function as a government. It was, therefore, the Tsarist regime, not the Soviet, that represented “anarchy and violence”. To maintain order and avoid bloodshed was the sole purpose of the Soviet. It was only in self-defense that it had prepared for insurrection:

“…The masses had no arms…Not the ability…to kill others, but their great readiness themselves to die, this secures in the last instance the victory of the popular rising…’ For only when the masses show readiness to die on the barricades can they win over the army, on which the old regime relies…Here on the barricade, for the first time in his life, the soldier hears honest, courageous words…and, as a consequence of this contact between soldiers and citizens…the bonds of the old military discipline snap (p. 176, 77)…”

The army is the ultimate defense of the capitalist state. Engels had characterized it as “bodies of armed men”.  Consequently, the appeal of workers to their peasant brothers in the army would be “the pivot on which a revolution turns” (Armies and the Art of Revolution by Katherine Chorely). In 1905 the revolution was still confined to the workers in the cities, not yet spreading to the peasants in the countryside. And the peasant soldiers had yet to be infected with its spirit, as they would later be during the First World War.

On November 2, the verdict was delivered. Members of the Soviet were declared not guilty on the chief count of insurrection, but were sentenced to deportation to Siberia for life. The newspapers were still carrying reports of the convicted Soviet leaders’ journey to the Polar Circle, when Trotsky – having miraculously escaped along the way – arrived back in Petersburg to be re-united his wife and their newly-born son!

With the Tsarist police in hot pursuit, Trotsky fled with other revolutionary émigrés from Petersburg to Helsinki, Finland. At the end of April, he attended the last congress of the Russian Social Democratic Party, in London.  There, Lenin tried to convince him to side with the Bolsheviks’ program of underground activity, against the Menshiviks’ advocacy of a broad public movement. Under Tsarism, an open “western-type” party would be smashed and its leaders imprisoned. Although Trotsky refused to take sides, he continued to speak out harshly against Lenin. Now Lenin and his Bolshevik comrades had begun the absolutely crucial work of building the party.

For the next seven years, till the outbreak of the First World War, Trotsky had settled in Vienna. There, he edited the Viennese Pravda. He was now mostly engaged in writing and digesting the lessons of 1905, so as to prepare for the next stage of the revolution.

The years between the two revolutions – those of Tsarist reaction – were bleak. During this period Nicolas II had exacted his revenge:

“…A new law disenfranchised the bulk of the people…The revolutionary parties were crushed, their clubs and newspapers suppressed, and thousands of their members massacred. Court marshals and gallows dominated the scene…The influence of socialism…shrank and dwindled…The Socialists were being driven back into the underground (p. 185)…”


“The years of reaction were over; the terror had spent itself; the Labour movement was experiencing a new revival…A new generation of revolutionaries was coming of age and flocking into the…clandestine organizations…Lenin was now reaping the fruits of his labors: his men led the Social Democratic underground, while Menshivism was a farrago of weak and disconnected groups…Trotsky had misjudged the outcome (p. 210)…”

Before the First World War, the Second International – and particularly its crown jewel, the German Social Democratic Party – had openly espoused the revolutionary doctrines of Marxism.  The German party had gained a major role in the government, dominated the trade unions, published hundreds of newspapers and possessed cultural institutions throughout the country. But the more successful it became through reform – working through the government and in cooperation with its employers – the more its revolutionary pronouncements had faded into insignificance. Then, in 1914, its politicians (with the sole exception of Karl Liebnecht) voted to support Germany in the First World War.

The outbreak of the war found Trotsky in Vienna, where General mobilization was taking place. He had witnessed crowds in the streets carried away by war hysteria. Learning that Russian émigrés were to be interned, he and his family boarded a train for Zurich, a refuge for revolutionaries. Russians Karl Radek, Nicolai Bukharin and Lenin would arrive soon after. Only two months later, Trotsky was forced to leave Switzerland for France, where he helped edit Martov’s anti-war newspaper, Golos (The Voice), and earned his living as a war correspondent. Menshivik and Bolshevik disputes were again put aside, as Martov and Lenin had largely agreed in their condemnation of the war. In 1915 Trotsky, along with a number of prominent Russians, began to publish another newspaper, Nashe Slovo. Through its editorials, he had gradually grown closer to Lenin and began to distance himself from Martov.

Then, on September 5, 1915, an international conference of socialists had assembled at Zimmerwald, Switzerland. Thirty-eight delegates from eleven countries attended to reassert their international working-class solidarity, and opposition to the imperialist war. The majority were pacifists; a minority, headed by Lenin, urged “…a defeatist attitude towards all warring governments, to call upon the peoples to ‘turn the imperialist war into civil war’, and to proclaim the need of a new International (p. 236)…” Trotsky drew up its statement of principles, the Zimmerwald Manifesto.

As the war dragged on, the views among Zimmerwald members grew increasingly antagonistic. Trotsky finally made a gesture toward the Bolsheviks, in Nashe Slovo, which caused Martov to resign from the paper. At the end of April 1916, at Kienthal, Switzerland, the second Zimmerwald Conference took place. Lenin’s anti-war views now carried the day. Trotsky was unable to attend, but published his solidarity with Lenin in Nashe Slovo. Although differences remained between them (over Lenin’s “revolutionary defeatism”), these would disappear when Trotsky joined the Bolshevik Party.

On September 15, 1916, the French police banned Nashe Slovo. The next day Trotsky was ordered to leave France for Spain. A few months later, he left Spain for New York City, where he and his wife had lived in an apartment in the Bronx. Here, together with Bukharin, Kollontai and Volodarsky, he wrote for the New York Daily, Novyi Mir (New World). On March 13, 1917, having learned of “bread riots” in Petrograd, its columns had proclaimed: “We are the witnesses of the beginning of the second Russian Revolution…”

Now meetings took place among the Russian émigrés, with Trotsky’s speeches the main attraction. He condemned the imperialist war, and the Menshiviks and Socialist Revolutionaries who went along with it.  It was now the Bolsheviks’ task to turn the peasant’s reluctant support for the war back to its hunger for peace and land.

On March 27, Trotsky, his family, and a small group of émigrés left New York City, aboard ship for Halifax, Nova Scotia. From there, they were taken to a German prisoner of war camp at Amherst, where he addressed German prisoners about the ideas of Zimmerwald. On April 29, they left Amherst; and after a sea voyage of nearly three weeks, had arrived in Finland. Then they travelled by train to Petrograd. There, on May 4, a crowd with red banners met Trotsky at the train, and carried him on its shoulders through the streets. He headed for the Smolny Institute. Here, the Petrograd Soviet had met; its Executive was then in session. Lenin, who had arrived only a month before, had spent that time arguing with the rightwing of his party. On this occasion, he had been accused of abandoning Bolshevism for Trotsky’s “permanent revolution”. Deutscher describes the convergence of their views:

“In truth, the roads of Lenin and Trotsky, so long divergent, had now met…the events of the war had gradually driven Trotsky to take the view that…it was the duty of revolutionary internationalists to form new parties…long before the war, Lenin had arrived at this conclusion…Trotsky had foreseen the combination of anti-feudal and anti-capitalist revolutions in Russia and had described the Russian upheaval as a prelude to international revolution…During the war…(Lenin) came to reckon with Socialist revolution in the advanced European countries and to place the Russian Revolution in this internationalist perspective…he no longer saw any reason why the Russian Revolution should confine itself to its so-called bourgeois objectives…this meant ‘proletarian dictatorship’ (266, 67)…”

At a meeting on May 10, Lenin finally asked Trotsky and his small organization to join the Bolshevik Party. Trotsky’s gifts as an agitator were now at the service of the Bolsheviks. He addressed meeting after meeting in the capital, and was enormously popular among the sailors at the Kronstadt, where the navy was in rebellion. Toward the end of May, the sailors were indicted, and Trotsky returned to defend them. And each evening he had lectured on the topics of the day at the amphitheater of the Cirque Moderne. “Later in the year, Lenin unstintingly paid tribute to Trotsky, saying that since he had broken with the Menshiviks there was no better Bolshevik (269)…”

At the beginning of June, the first All-Russian Congress of the Soviets took place in Petrograd. For the first time the various parties confronted each other in this nationally-elected body. The Cadets, then dominant in the government, were rapidly losing influence, having suffered defeat in recent municipal elections. The Menshiviks polled half the votes, hoping to become the Soviet’s leaders. The Bolsheviks influence was dominant in the working-class suburbs, and growing rapidly elsewhere. The main issue before the congress was the condition of the army. The General Staff was preparing a new offensive, for which it sought the Soviet’s approval. It was on this occasion that Trotsky: “… warned the government that after the prodigious losses the army had suffered…(it) was incapable of further fighting. The offensive would end in disaster (276)…”

At one point in the congress, the Menshivik, Tseretelli, pleaded for another coalition, and challenged the delegates to produce a single party willing to shoulder the burden of government. Lenin had answered from the floor that his party was prepared to do so. Although the Bolsheviks were by no means ready take power, he realized that a coalition not opposing the war was useless. Summarizing Lenin’s strategy, our author says: “As long as the Bolsheviks were a minority in the Soviets, he urged his followers not to play at seizing power but ‘patiently explain their attitude to the masses’, until they gained the majority. This was the crux of his Soviet constitutionalism (278)…”

A mass demonstration, on June 10, called by the moderate socialists, was drowned in banners with Bolshevik slogans. This popular defiance of the moderate party had startled them all. Then the nation was suddenly shaken by the crisis of the July Days:

 “…The patience of the garrison and of the working population of Petrograd was exhausted. Bread queues grew interminably. Money…was depreciated. Profiteering was rampant…On top of this came the costly offensive, now in progress…Finally, a number of regiments confronted Bolshevik headquarters…and called an armed demonstration for 3 July…Bolshevik headquarters made an attempt to cancel the demonstration…Lenin then tried to place his party at the head of the movement in order to keep the movement within the limits of a peaceful demonstration (280, 81)…”

Two days and nights of angry demonstrations followed, with enormous crowds marching through the streets. A violent group besieged the Tauride Palace, where the executive of the Soviets had their office. They threatened the moderate socialists within, who appealed to the garrison. But the soldiers now stood squarely with the Bolsheviks. Then Chernov, one of the government ministers, was seized by the crowd, outside. Trotsky, fearing they might lynch him, now had rushed to the scene:

“…the crowd was raging…on the back seat of the car sat Chernov…Trotsky began his speech…they listened to Trotsky in a sullen mood…

Finally, Trotsky defied the crowd and asked those who wanted violence to be done to Chernov openly to raise their hands. Not a hand went up. Amid silence, he took Chernov, half-fainting by now, by the arm and led him into the Palace (282)…”

After the crowds had finally dispersed, news came that the military offensive had collapsed. The right-wing parties and their followers blamed the Bolsheviks for the army’s defeat. One of their newspapers accused Lenin of being in the pay of the German General Staff. The upper-classes and their military leaders needed a scapegoat for the disastrous offensive. Fearing arrest or assassination, Lenin now  went into hiding. Bolshevik headquarters were demolished by right-wing demonstrators, and the Bolshevik newspaper banned. Trotsky spoke throughout the city against these absurd accusations against Lenin. Then he, himself, was arrested on July 23, together with his Bolshevik comrades. They were placed in Kresty Prison.

Following the July Days, another coalition government was formed under Kerensky. General Kornilov,  champion of the conservatives, was appointed Commander-in-Chief. Then, on August 24, he declared war on the government, ordering his troops to march on the capital. But Kerensky could not defeat Kornilov without the garrison, whose members were loyal to the Bolsheviks. Kerensky had desperately appealed to them. Won over to the revolution, Kornilov’s troops had disobeyed their officers. Not by force of arms, but by Bolshevik agitation were they defeated. They had deserted without firing a shot. Our author suggests: “From Kornilov’s defeat started a new chain of events leading straight to the October Insurrection (292)…”

Kornilov’s attempted coup convinced most of the Soviet members that a coalition with capitalist parties would never end the war. When the Menshiviks and Socialist Revolutionaries nevertheless continued to advocate such a coalition, they were deserted by their followers and their majority in the Soviet disappeared. Trotsky spoke to its members, proposing a motion of no confidence in the Menshiviks. For the first time the Bolsheviks received a majority in the Soviet:

“In the Soviets, the Bolsheviks went from strength to strength. At the beginning of September they had a majority in Petrograd, Moscow, and other industrial cities….On 23 September the Petrograd Soviet elected Trotsky as their President. As he mounted the dias, ‘a hurricane of applause went up…the only question was whither Trotsky would lead them.’…On behalf of the new Soviet he sounded the first summons to the second revolution, calling for Kerensky’s resignation and the transfer of governmental power to the Congress of Soviets (296, 97)…”

Now Lenin, from his place of hiding, placed the issue of insurrection before the Bolshevik Central Committee. His two chief assistants, Zinoviev and Kamenev, had opposed him. Lenin argued that the drastic change in the mood of the Soviets, the rising tide of peasant revolt, and the unwillingness to fight in the army, made it imperative that they act:

“…He was confident that if the party seized the opportunity it would gain the support of an immense majority of the people. But history offered a fleeting opportunity only: if the Bolsheviks missed it, another Kornilov would soon be ready…and crush…the revolution (299)…”

Lenin spoke in favor of the insurrection being made by the Bolshevik Party. Trotsky, in his new role as President of Soviet, argued that since the Bolsheviks had conducted their agitation under the slogan of “All Power to the Soviets!”, that the rising should be made in its name. It would coincide with the opening of its Congress, in whose hands they would place the power.

In the beginning of October, the crisis mounted. Economic chaos increased, as the provisioning of the cities broke down. In the countryside, peasants were seizing the landlord’s estates and burning their manors. The German navy now threatened Petrograd from its battleships in the Gulf of Finland. The question ‘Who would be master of the garrison?’ now became paramount. Kerensky’s regime faced the Soviet, preparing for a military showdown. He intended to deploy the Petrograd soldiers to the front, ostensibly to defend the nation. But these troops, now loyal to the Soviet, knew they would have been condemned to slaughter in the trenches. Trotsky, beginning preparations for the insurrection, argued that Petrograd would be exposed to German invasion if the garrison were evacuated.

On October 9, at a session of the Executive of the Soviet, the Military Revolutionary Committee was appointed, with responsibility for the city’s defense. This would be the chief organization of the insurrection, with Trotsky at its head. The next day the Bolshevik Central Committee met with Lenin; and after heated debate, voted ten to two in favor of the rising. Zinoviev and Kamenev voted against. Lenin  returned to hiding in Finland. Trotsky now spoke throughout the city, at factories and in military barracks: “…Every worker and soldier of Petrograd knew him and listened to him. His influence on the masses and the leaders alike was overwhelming. He was the central figure of those days (310)…”

On October 16, the regiments of the garrison declared they would disobey Kerensky and remain in Petrograd. Later, Trotsky called this “the silent rising which in advance decided the outcome of the contest.” The Bolshevik Central Committee now met, with a heavily disguised Lenin, and issued a call for  insurrection. Zinoviev and Kamenev repeated their opposition; published their views in Gorky’s newspaper. Lenin had branded them ‘strikebreakers of the revolution.’

On October 21, Trotsky presented a resolution to the garrison that it must answer to the Military Revolutionary Committee, alone. The regimental committees adopted it, stating:  “…The Petrograd garrison solemnly pledges itself to put at the disposal of the All-Russian Congress all its forces, to the last man…Rely on us…We are at our posts, ready to conquer or die (314, 15)…”

By October 23, the Military Revolutionary Committee had a detailed plan of action. It provided for the occupation of all strategic positions in the capital, liaison between the committee and the garrison, and military units ready for action. So overwhelming were the superiority of forces on the Soviet’s side, that they were confident they could win with little violence. Now Trotsky waited for Kerensky’s provocation, hoping to launch the insurrection as a defensive measure.

Kerensky had obliged him: banning the Bolshevik’s newspaper; ordering the closing of its editorial offices and printing-press. Workers from the press appeared before the Military Revolutionary Committee to report to Trotsky, who ordered a company of riflemen to guard the newspaper.

Now an extraordinary session of the Petrograd Soviet took place, at which Trotsky reported on the steps taken by the Military Revolutionary Committee to countermand Kerensky’s orders:

“We are not afraid to shoulder responsibility for maintaining revolutionary order in the city…Our principle is — all power to the Soviets…Tomorrow the Congress of the Soviets opens. It is the task of the garrison and of the proletariat to put at its disposal the power they have gathered…If the government tries to…stab the revolution…the revolution will meet attack with attack and steel with steel (318, 19)…”

During the night of 24-25 October, Red Guards and regular regiments occupied strategic points throughout the city. The overthrow of Kerensky’s government took only a few hours. He had escaped from the city in the automobile of a foreign embassy. Later that day, Trotsky reported these events to the Petrograd Soviet: the entire city was now under its control. The only place that still resisted, the Winter Palace, was bombarded with blank shells by the cruiser Aurora in the harbor.

At the Congress of the Soviets the Bolsheviks commanded a majority of two-thirds. With the Left Social Revolutionaries, they had three-quarters of the votes. The defeated parties raised an outcry, demanding yet another coalition government. And when this was rejected by the Soviet, they declared a boycott. Trotsky now rose to address their leader, Martov (his old Menshivik comrade):

“The rising of the popular masses needs no justification…Our rising has been victorious. Now you tell us: Renounce your victory, yield, make a compromise. With whom?…You are miserable, isolated individuals…You have played out your role. Go where you belong: to the dust heap of history! (323, 24)…”

The Soviets would form the constitutional foundation for the new state. The Bolsheviks had been willing to share it with any parties willing to endorse this principle, but the Menshiviks and Socialist Revolutionaries had refused. So the Bolsheviks – the majority – took full responsibility for the new regime:

“Never before had any body of men seizing power assumed so prodigious a burden of commitments as that which the Bolshevik leaders shouldered when they read out to the Congress their first hastily scribbled decrees. They promised to give the people Peace, Land, and Bread. The distance from promise to fulfillment was immeasurable (324)…”


“The worst thing that can befall a leader of an extreme party is to be compelled to take over a government in an epoch when the movement is not yet ripe for the domination of the class which he represents…he necessarily finds himself in a dilemma. What he can do is in contrast…to all his principles…what he ought to do cannot be achieved (Engels, The Peasant War in Germany, p. 135, 36)…”

Ever since 1905, Trotsky had maintained that the Russian Revolution could not succeed without the aid of revolution in the advanced nations of Europe. And on every occasion on which the subject arose, Lenin had agreed, declaring: ‘The ripening and inevitability of world socialist revolution can be under no doubt.’ Nevertheless, our author is forced to conclude:

“What was wrong in their expectations was not merely the calendar of revolutionary events but the fundamental assumption that European capitalism was at the end of its tether. They grossly underrated its staying power, its adaptability, and the hold it had on the loyalty of the working classes. The revolutionary ferment in Europe was strong enough for a minority of the working class to be determined to follow in Bolshevik footsteps. The majority… were in no mood to embark upon the road of revolution (459)…”

Based on the Bolshevik’s hope for revolution in Europe, the Comintern (Third Communist International) was established, in March 1919, to provide leadership for the parties of the world’s working class. The Second International’s support for the First World had brought it into universal disrepute. But this had been because of revulsion against the war, rather than support for revolution. Trotsky had appeared before the Comintern’s founding congress; had authored its manifesto.

The years 1918-1919 saw the destruction of the monarchy, following military defeat in Germany and Austria. In Hungary and Bavaria soviet governments briefly took power; in Italy, there was the “occupation of the factories”. Then the armies of fourteen capitalist nations and Russia’s own counter-revolutionary forces launched a civil war to overthrow the Soviet regime. In March 1918, Trotsky was appointed Commissar of War, and President of the Supreme War Council:

“He undertook to conjure an army out of an apparent void. The armed forces of the old regime had vanished…all that survived…was a single division…Red guards and bands of partisans…From such slender beginnings sprang into being the Red Army which, after two and a half years, had five million men under arms (415)…”

Throughout the civil war, Trotsky travelled back and forth across the country in an armored train. “In a battle of this sort the leader is constantly before the eyes of the men: his faith, his presence of mind, and his courage may work wonders. He has to establish his military authority…by personal example (430)…” Lenin, himself, said of Trotsky “Show me another man able to organize almost a model army within a single year and win the respect of military experts. We have such a man (440, footnote 1)…”

During the civil war Russia was subject to imperialist blockade. Industrial and agricultural productivity dropped precipitously; transportation ground to a halt. Cities were emptied, famine and epidemics raged: “…Russia’s national income amounted to one-third of her income of 1913…the railways were destroyed…exchange of goods between town and country had come to a standstill…cities and towns had become…depopulated…people…lived on a food ration of two ounces of bread and a few frozen potatoes and had heated their dwellings with the wood of their furniture (546)…”

Then a calamity of biblical proportions had stricken the nation: “One of the worst famines in history visited…the Volga…Uncounted multitudes fled before the sand blizzards and the locust and wandered in aimless despair over the vast plains…Cannibalism reappeared (547)…”

The world war – in which Russia suffered 2.5 million deaths –  revolution, and civil war had so ruined its economy that, by 1921, the Russian working class had almost ceased to exist: “The ordinary men and women who had made it were no longer…The best of them had perished (522)…” It was in these – the worst of times – that backward Russia was forced to attempt to build socialism. Trotsky would later write:

“As long as man is not yet master of his social organization, that organization towers over him like Fate itself…The stuff of contemporary tragedy is found in the clash between the individual and a collective, or between hostile collectives represented by individuals (542)…”

So I propose we view the Russian Revolution as a social tragedy, consisting of three dilemmas.  The Bolsheviks had been certain that the Russian Revolution would be followed by others in the advanced nations of Europe. These would have shared their wealth and technology with war torn, backward Russia. But this did not occur. (Dilemma 1: Isolation of the revolution.) The world war was followed by a civil war, which destroyed the revolution’s leading class, the industrial proletariat. (Dilemma 2: Workers’ state without a working class.) Finally, the revolution was based on a class alliance. The small but strategically situated working class in the cities was supported by the great majority, the peasantry in the countryside. What would happen if this alliance broke down? (Dilemma 3: Majority support for the regime disappears.) These three tragic dilemmas would lead to what Trotsky called ‘substitutism’ (i.e. the successive replacement of class by party, faction and individual).

And within this larger social tragedy, there was another, personal one (i.e. “between hostile collectives represented by individuals”). This was the contest over party leadership between Trotsky and Stalin after the death of Lenin. These two individuals represented the collective policies of “Permanent Revolution” and “Socialism in One Country”. And the eventual victory of Stalin, and “Socialism in One Country”, led not only to the betrayal of the Russian Revolution, but to the sacrifice of the Chinese revolution and to Hitler’s rise to power. Let us begin with the larger social tragedy (with the aid of the Chris Harman’s “How the Revolution Was Lost”):

“The revolutionary institutions of 1917 – above all the soviets – were organically connected with the class that led the revolution…The Bolshevik Party was merely the body of coordinated class-conscious militants who could frame policies and suggest courses of action alongside other such bodies…but only if the mass of workers would follow them…

Until the civil war…this democratic dialectic of party and class could continue. The Bolsheviks held power as the majority party in the soviets…But other parties continued to exist…The decimation of the working class changed all this……the soviet state of 1917 had been replaced by the single-party state of 1920 onwards (18, 19, Harman)…”

And the revolution had been based on a class alliance in which the peasantry supported the working class. Although the peasantry had been encouraged to seize the land, the Bolsheviks realized that to feed the workers in the cities, agriculture would eventually have to be collectivized. With the end of the civil war, this long-term conflict emerged with the uprising at Kronstadt. Having gained control over the land – and having made enormous sacrifices to feed the nation during the civil war – the peasantry was facing starvation. The only thing now uniting them was opposition to the forcible collection of grain by the Bolsheviks:

 “…the revolution in Russia had reached the stage where it involved the exploitation of the country by the towns, maintained through naked physical force…this meant that the revolution must remain in danger of being overthrown by peasant insurrections.

There seemed to be only one course open. This was to accept many of the peasant demands, while maintaining a strong, centralized socialist state apparatus. This the New Economic Policy (NEP) attempted to do (21, Harman)…”

And the concessions to the peasantry, represented by NEP, worsened the position of the working class. Having been decimated by the civil war, now its standard of living was further reduced. And NEP gave birth to a new privileged group – the directors and managers of industry – one with significantly higher salaries.

“Holding the Russia of NEP together meant mediating between different social classes…Arrangements had to be made to satisfy the individualistic aspirations of the peasants, as well as the collectivist democratic aims of socialism. In the process, the party, which had been lifted above the different social classes, had to reflect their differences (26, 27, Harman)…”

Let us pause in the social drama of classes, to examine its expression by individuals in the policies of the Bolshevik Party. These policies were personified by Trotsky and Stalin. From the issues of party and class, our author now explores the psychology of his characters. He begins with our protagonist:

“Trotsky’s volcanic passion and his mighty language stirred the souls of the people in a way in which Lenin’s incisive didactic prose never could…The contrast in their temperaments extended to other qualities as well…(Trotsky) did not possess the habits of free and easy teamwork which make the strength of a real leader of men…(he) had never succeeded in organizing any stable group of followers (352)…”

In sharp contrast was his antagonist, Joseph Stalin, who:

“…spent all his political life in the underground. He had…(a) gift for organization…for handling men…(an) empirical mind, and…firmness of character (353)…”

And these two characters had been at odds from the beginning. Trotsky:

“…was hardly aware of Stalin’s existence until after the October Revolution…Stalin’s ‘greyness’ concealed from him Stalin’s strength. He continued to treat his future rival with an unintentional yet all the more hurtful haughtiness…It is hardly surprising that Stalin’s pride was stung (353, 54)…”

Deutscher summarizes Trotsky’s character:

“Thus almost everything in him, his fertile mind, his oratorical boldness, his literary originality, his administrative ability…his exacting demands…his aloofness… all this induced in the members of the Old Guard a sense of inferiority…he did not suffer fools gladly (580)…”

With these portraits in mind, let us begin with the first act of our drama: Lenin’s incapacitating strokes, the writing of his “testament” and his death. In April 1922, after Stalin’s appointment as the party’s General Secretary, Lenin made a proposal to Trotsky that he act as his deputy at the head of the government. Having misgivings about Stalin’s appointment, Lenin sought to counterbalance it with Trotsky’s. Then, in May, Lenin suffered his first stroke. He was warned by his doctors that he required absolute rest; but he had defied them. In September he called Stalin, insisting Trotsky’s appointment be placed urgently before the Politibureau. Lenin met with Trotsky in private; but he had refused the appointment.

Trotsky believed he was being offered an office without influence: “…All levers of the government were in the hands of the party’s Secretariat, i.e. in Stalin’s hands…Trotsky had no doubt that even as Lenin’s deputy he would depend at every step on decisions taken by the General Secretariat which selected the Bolshevik personnel for the various government departments and by this alone effectively controlled them (583)…”

Then, in the summer of 1922, a disagreement over the government’s handling of the non-Russian nationalities arose. The Bolsheviks had guaranteed them the right of national self-determination (i.e.  democratic control and the right of secession). Over this the conflict between Trotsky and Stalin now came to a head:

“Stalin for the first time now applied repression to members of the Bolshevik party…He also gravely compromised the Bolshevik policy toward the non-Russian nationalities…

When…protests came before the Politbureau Trotsky upheld them…He saw in Stalin’s behavior a scandalous and flagrant abuse of power…Lenin upheld Stalin’s authority (596, 97)…”

Other issues (e.g. the monopoly of foreign trade) had brought the now ailing Lenin closer to Trotsky. At the beginning of December, he once again urged him to accept the post of vice-Premier. Lenin spoke about his grave anxiety concerning the abuse of power; told Trotsky that he was ready for a ’bloc’ with him against Stalin. A few days later Lenin suffered another stroke. Then, late in December, he had dictated his “testament”:

“He intended to offer the party guidance about those who would presently be called upon to lead it…

The party…should beware of the danger of a split in which Stalin and Trotsky…would confront each other as the chief antagonists…Trotsky was ‘the most able’ of all the party leaders; but he was possessed of ‘excessive self-confidence’…About Stalin he had only this to say: ‘Having become General Secretary, Stalin has concentrated immeasurable power in his hands; and I am not sure that he will always know how to use that power with sufficient caution.’…

…on 4 January 1923 he wrote that brief and pregnant postscript in which he stated that Stalin’s rudeness was already ‘becoming unbearable in the office of General Secretary’ and in which he advised his followers to ‘remove Stalin’ from that office…If this were not to be done, the conflict between Stalin and Trotsky would grow more bitter with dangerous consequences to the party (615, 16)…”

Lenin now ceased to take part in the government. Stalin, together with Kamenev and Zinoviev, formed a faction against Trotsky. In Politbureau sessions Trotsky was attacked by them: accused of craving the power of the ailing Lenin. But Trotsky’s ‘excessive self-confidence’ was his undoing. Assured of his ‘bloc’ with Lenin, and hoping he would soon recover, he made no effort to recruit others to his side. While Stalin maneuvered behind the scenes – gathering allies, making appointments – Trotsky stood by waiting for Lenin.

After writing his ‘testament’, Lenin had penned several articles concerning Stalin’s treatment of the national minorities. Desperate to convey his thoughts to the party, he had written that he:

“…felt strongly guilty before the workers of Russia for not having intervened vigorously and drastically enough in this notorious issue…’ …They were in fact exposed to…’that truly Russian man, the Great Russian chauvinist, who is essentially a scoundrel and oppressor 617)…”

Trotsky, now under attack, demanded the Politbureau publish Lenin’s articles. But they had refused. Then he threatened to publish them, himself: to lay them before the delegates at the Twelfth Party Congress. But, unlike his antagonists, he gave notice; played by an unwritten code of ‘fair play’.  Finally, Trotsky received an urgent message from Lenin, demanding he speak out about Stalin’s abuse of the national minorities. With the message was a note from Lenin’s secretaries, saying he had prepared a ‘bombshell’ against Stalin for the party congress. Trotsky later learned that Lenin had written a letter to Stalin, who had behaved offensively to Krupskaya. He had threatened to ‘break off all personal relations’ …‘to crush Stalin politically’ (636)…”

But instead of using this to his advantage, Trotsky behaved magnanimously to his opponent. He demanded Stalin apologize to Krupskaya, and to stop bullying representatives of the national minorities. Then Lenin had succumbed to another stroke:

“He was to survive it by ten months, but paralyzed, speechless most of the time, and suffering from spells of unconsciousness, the torment of which was all the greater because in the intervals he was acutely and helplessly aware of the intrigue in the background (638)…”

But Trotsky still had not abandoned hope that Lenin would recover. He submitted Lenin’s notes on the national minorities to the Politbureau for publication. Again, they had refused. As a result: “…Lenin’s deathbed confession of shame and guilt at the revival of the Tsarist spirit in the Bolshevik state…(was) to remain unknown to the party for thirty-three years (639)…”

At the Twelfth Party Congress Lenin was not present to explode his ‘bombshell’. Trotsky had remained in the background. Meanwhile, Stalin, Zinoviev and Kamenev, had acted behind the scenes. Their appointed delegates initiated a ‘whispering campaign’ against Trotsky, accusing him of having “Bonapartist ambitions” to replace their revered leader, Lenin. They also began to lay the foundations of what would later become a Leninist “cult of personality”. Our author concludes:

“Thus slowly and inexorably the circumstances which eventually led to Trotsky’s defeat began to unfold…He missed the opportunity of confounding the triumvirs and discrediting Stalin…He failed to…act with the resolution Lenin expected of him (649)…”

At the same time, Stalin, his antagonist:

“…used his wide powers of appointment to eliminate…members who might be expected to follow Trotsky; and he filled vacancies with adherents…

It was in the course of this year, the year 1923, that Stalin, making full use of this system of patronage, imperceptibly became the party’s master (651)…”

Lenin died in January 1924. Trotsky learned of this while ill and away from Moscow. He contacted Stalin, asking whether he would have time to return for the funeral. Stalin told him it would take place the next day. In fact, it was not held until several days later. All those attending wondered why Trotsky was not present for these national days of mourning. And the elaborate ceremonies furthered the creation of a Leninist “cult of personality”.

At the Thirteenth Party Congress Lenin’s ‘testament’, which had been in Krupskaya’s private keeping, was finally read aloud:

“The reading of the will had the effect of a bolt from the blue. Those present listened in utter perplexity to the passage in which Lenin castigated Stalin…Stalin seemed crushed…

All eyes were now fixed on Trotsky…He did not utter a word…He could not bring himself to speak out on a matter in which his own standing was so obviously involved…Against Krupskaya’s protest the Central Committee voted by an overwhelming majority for the suppression of the will (687, 88)…”

In the last week of May, the party congress had assembled. The proceedings largely consisted of a campaign of the triumvirs against Trotsky. Zinoviev had, in fact, demanded that he appear before them  and recant. Never before had a party member been subject to such a demand. Trotsky now rose before the assembly to defend himself:

“He spoke calmly and persuasively…but he refused adamantly to retract a single one of his criticisms…To Zinoviev’s call for a recantation, he replied:

Nothing could be simpler…than to admit before one’s party that one had erred…Comrades, none of us wishes to be or can be right against the party. In the last instance the party is always right, because it is the only historic instrument which the working class possesses for the solution of its fundamental tasks…I have said already that nothing would be easier than to say…that all these criticisms…were mistaken…I cannot say so, however, because…I do not think so (688, 89)…”

From the domestic we now turn to the international scene, and the defeat of the German Revolution of 1923. The Comintern – believing that a revolutionary situation was at hand – attempted to direct it from afar, and had failed. Our author explains:

“These events were to have a powerful impact on the Soviet Union. They destroyed the chances of revolution in Germany and Europe for many years ahead…They imparted to Russian communism a deep and definite sense of isolation, a disbelief in the revolutionary capacity of the European working classes…Out of this mood there developed gradually an attitude of Russian revolutionary self-sufficiency…which was to find its expression in the doctrine of Socialism in One Country (694)…”

During these years Trotsky gathered around him members of successive ‘oppositions’ to the policies of Stalin, Zinoviev and Kamenev (i.e. the triumirs). Foremost among these was the issue of “inner-party democracy” (i.e. the resistance to the process of ‘substitutism’). This demand applied not only to the party, but would encompass the “internationalism” of the Comintern, as well. Having assumed for itself leadership of German Communist Party, it may well have been responsible for revolution’s failure.  Harman says:

“The erosion of inner-party democracy is best shown by the fate of the successive oppositions to the central leadership. In 1917 and 1918 free discussion within the party…was taken for granted…In 1923 when the Left Opposition developed, it was still possible to express it viewsYet throughout this period the possibilities of any opposition acting effectively were diminished…Who controlled the bureaucracy controlled the party (24, 25, Harmon)…”

As the party had replaced the working class, so now the bureaucracy replaced the party:

“With the decimation of the working class in the civil war, the party was left standing above the class. The party apparatus increasingly exercised real power within the party – appointing functionaries at all levels, choosing delegates to conferences…This concealed its increasing existence as a social entity in its own right…the bureaucracy was developing from being a class in itself to being a class for itself (30, 31, Harman)…”

Deutscher extends this analysis from the party bureaucracy to the Executive of the Comintern:

“…democracy could not survive in the International after it had withered in the Russian party. The habits of ’substitutism’ spread to the entire movement; and the chiefs of the Bolshevik Old Guard came to look upon themselves as the trustees not merely of the Russian working class but of the working classes of the world (700)…”

At the Fourteenth Party Congress, Stalin allied himself with the brilliant young theorist, Nicolai Bukharin.  Zinoviev and Kamenev now opposed him. Our author describes this turn of events:

“The two triumvirs were thus placed in the same quandary in which they had previously placed Trotsky…While they were silent…Stalin unremittingly worked to dislodge them from power (797)…”

Zinoviev and Kamenev joined Trotsky in yet another opposition. The three had met in private. The two confessed their crimes against him; revealed their secret dealings with Stalin to persecute the opposition. They claimed that Stalin had behaved like the Tsars in their bloody court intrigues; described his maneuvers, his slyness and cruelty. According to them, all he craved was power. Nevertheless, they hoped that, together, they could defeat him. After hearing these embarrassing confessions:

“Trotsky shook his head. He did share their optimism. He knew better the taste of defeat. He had for years felt the full weight of the party machine…He had a deeper insight into the processes which had deformed the party (814, 15)…”

These processes were based on far larger social forces:

“Humble men viewed the commotion as a brawl between bigwigs which was of no concern to them. Even those who took a less cynical view and felt with the opposition most often kept their feelings to themselves: unemployment was rampant; and the punishment for ‘disloyalty’ might be the loss of one’s job and starvation. Thus the active following to the…opposition dwindled to a few hundred veterans of the revolution, a small and closely knit band of men, who were devoted (811)…”

The Joint Opposition, which Trotsky, Zinoviev and Kamenev now formed, proclaimed itself at a session of the Central Committee in the summer of 1926. Their rejection of “Socialism in One Country” became the central issue: “To assume beforehand that the Soviet Union would have to build socialism alone throughout was to abandon the prospect of international revolution; and to abandon it was to refuse to work for it, even to obstruct it (828)…”

The Joint Opposition made a heroic effort to appeal to the rank and file. Its members brought their views to party members, disseminated written statements and spoke at party meetings. The three leaders appeared and spoke, themselves, in factories and workshops. But everywhere they were met by Stalin’s party machine. They were heckled, booed; party members were intimidated. The opposition’s appeal had met with failure. Our author explains:

“…the weary and disillusioned mass…responded to the doctrine of consolation more readily than to the heroic evocation of permanent revolution…Stalin offered them the safer…road…Socialism in One Country…Trotsky’s pleas for internationalism suggested…that Russia could not rely on herself… two … quasi-Messianic beliefs seemed pitted against one another: Trotskyism with its faith in the…proletariat of the West; and Stalinism with its glorification of Russia’s socialist destiny. Since the impotence of Western communism had been repeatedly demonstrated, it was a foregone conclusion which of these beliefs would evoke the greater popular response (837, 38)…”

In the spring of 1927 the inner-party struggle turned from the domestic to the international dimension, with Comintern policy in China (which we will explore with the aid of Duncan Hallas’ The Comintern). China was dominated by imperialist powers and its own warlords, who together, controlled the country. A weak government, under the bourgeois nationalist Kuomintang (KMT) party, ruled Canton, in the south. The young Chinese working class – like that of Russia – was highly concentrated in modern, foreign-owned factories in the cities. There were three and a half million workers in the foreign sector; eleven million in smaller enterprises. The mostly Communist-led unions, by 1925, had three million members. And there was a growing peasant movement.

The Kuomintang, led by Chang Kai-shek, needed these popular movements to challenge the imperialist powers. But it also feared them. The Comintern, operating under the principles of “Socialism in One Country”, had little faith in the young Chinese Communist Party; it sought a foreign alliance with China through its larger Kuomintang. Under its influence, the Comintern concocted a theory of the “bloc of classes” to justify the subordination of the interests of the Chinese communist movement to those of Soviet foreign policy. This relationship was cemented with Russian military aid and advisors, which created a professional army led by Chang Kai-shek. Stalin’s foremost agent in China, Borodin, had in fact, declared: “‘The present period is one in which the communists should do coolie service for the Kuomintang (120, Hallas)…”

Deutscher describes the development of the Chinese communist movement:

“…When in 1925 the great ‘movement of 30 May’ spread over southern China, the Communists were its vanguard, inspiring the boycott of Western concessions and concerns and leading the general strike of Canton, the greatest so far in China’s history. As the momentum of the movement increased, the Kuomintang leaders became frightened, tried to curb it, and clashed with the Communists. The latter sensing the approach of civil war, were anxious to untie their hands in time, and made representations to Moscow…the Executive of the Communist International, however, vetoed the plan…Neither Bukharin nor Stalin, who now effectively directed Soviet policy, believed that Chinese communism had any chance of seizing power in the near future; and both were anxious to maintain the Soviet alliance with the Kuomintang. The growing communist influence threatened to disrupt that alliance and so they were determined to keep the Chinese party in its place (869)…”

On 30 May 1925, police opened fire on a peaceful demonstration in Shanghai, killing twelve people. A general strike was the result. 135 strikes involving 400,000 workers took part. Shortly afterward, in Canton, another demonstration of students and workers was fired upon by British and French soldiers, killing 52. A general strike and boycott of goods was declared there, as well, immobilizing Hong Kong, the main base of British imperialism in China. As a result of these upheavals, the Chinese Communist Party grew to 30,000 members, mostly workers in the coastal cities.

In March 1926, Chiang Kai-shek launched a military coup against the communists in Canton, imprisoning its leaders and strike committee activists. The Chinese Communist Party was, nevertheless, ordered by the Comintern to submit to Kuomintang leadership. At this time, the Soviet leaders approved the admission of the Kuomintang and Chang Kai-Shek to the Comintern. Trotsky had earlier submitted a report protesting the subordination of the Chinese Communist Party to the Kuomintang. Only he had voted against this and Chang Kai-shek’s admission to the Comintern. He had declared: “In preparing himself for the role of an executioner…(Chang Kai-shek) wanted to have the cover of world communism – and he got it (121, Hallas)…”

On 26 July 1927, Chiang Kai-shek launched his ‘Northern expedition’, an attempt at the military conquest of China:

“…His troops advanced rapidly…their appearance…acted as a tremendous stimulus to a nation-wide revolutionary movement…The workers were the most active element…The Communist party was in the ascendant. It led and inspired risings. Its members stood at the head of the trade unions…the peasantry rose against the warlords…ready to dispossess them…

Chiang Kai-shek was frightened by the tide of revolution and sought to contain it. He forbade strikes and demonstrations, suppressed trade unions (874)…”

The Chinese communists demanded that they be allowed to leave the Kuomintang; but they were again rebuffed by the Comintern. On March 31 1927, Trotsky had at last attacked Comintern policy. The author of ‘permanent revolution’ criticized the nonsense of the ‘bloc of classes’, and the subordination of the communists to the Kuomintang. As the revolution had occurred in Russia, so it would it also be in China, he insisted. The bourgeois and socialist ‘stages’ of the revolution would merge; only the working class could be its vanguard. The movement would either win as a proletarian ‘dictatorship’, or not win at all: “…’how can one keep silent when nothing less than the head of the Chinese proletariat is at stake?’ (879)…”

Then Chiang Kai-shek carried out another coup in Shanghai: his prelude to counter-revolution. Shanghai was:

“…China’s largest city and commercial centre, dominated by the extra-territorial enclaves of the Western powers and their warships anchored in the harbor. Shortly before Chiang Kai-shek’s troops had entered, the workers of Shanghai rose, overthrew the administration, and took control of the city…the greatest proletarian rising Asia had seen (876)…”

The Chinese communists appealed again to the Comintern, to be allowed to break with the Kuomintang. Instead, they were ordered to lay down their arms and surrender. Three weeks later, Chiang Kai-shek had ordered their massacre: tens of thousands of them were murdered:

“Thus the Chinese Communists were made to pay their tribute to the sacred egoism of…socialism in one country…The hidden implications of the doctrine were brought out and written in blood on the pavements of Shanghai (876)…”

But the Comintern still refused to break with the Kuomintang, and ordered an attempted coup in Canton. Intended to make up for the Shanghai bloodbath, it was led by Stalin’s personal emissary, Heinz Newmann. Another massacre was the result. The Chinese Communist Party’s working-class support was destroyed. Its leaders outside the cities, like Mao Tse-tung, would eventually become commanders of guerillas based on the support of the peasantry. Both the leadership and class base of the Chinese Communist Party would be completely transformed. From a party based on workers’ power in the cities, it became one of military power in the countryside.

(For the classic account of these events, see The Tragedy of the Chinese Revolution by Harold Isaacs.)

Now Stalin, outraged at the opposition’s criticism of Comintern China policy, had escalated his campaign against them. Its leaders were demoted, penalized and dispersed to remote provinces throughout the country. Many of the rank-and-file had lost their jobs; they were dispatched into the barren wilderness that would later become the gulag. And Trotsky, himself, was now arraigned before by a series of state and party tribunals. One after another, they had stripped him of office, political rights, and had finally expelled him from the party.

At the Fifteenth Party Conference, Stalin assailed the Joint Opposition, demanding it admit the error of its views and recant. Trotsky replied, speaking of the fratricidal strife that would follow, the ultimate destruction of the party and the mortal danger this posed to the revolution. Then rising, facing his antagonist, and pointing his finger at him, he had exclaimed:

“’The First Secretary poses his candidature to the post of the grave-digger of the revolution!’ Stalin turned pale, rose, first contained himself with difficulty, and then rushed out of the hall, slamming the door (846)…”

Trotsky, Zinoviev and Kamenev were now deprived of their seats in the Politbureau.  Trotsky and Zinoviev lost their positions with the Executive of the Comintern. And their followers were soon to be  expelled from all foreign communist parties. The Joint Opposition had been routed. As the years had passed, and Trotsky was forced into exile, those in the opposition who remained felt his antagonist’s wrath:

“…Stalin found it all the easier to divide them and demoralize them…picking out the most stubborn Oppositionists and transferring them to jails, where they were subjected to the harshest treatment: placed under military guards; crowded in damp and dark cells unheated in the Siberian winter; kept on a meager diet of rotten food; and denied reading matter, light, and facilities for communication with their families. They were thus deprived of the privileges which political prisoners hand obtained in Tsarist Russia (1101)…”

Let us now turn from our main characters to the larger social tragedy. By 1928 the Stalinist leadership had complete control of the state and party. Its power base was the bureaucracy (i.e. members of the state and party who shared a common interest with the policy of ‘Socialism in One Country’):

“…the bureaucracy was developing from being a class in itself to being a class for itself…(it) did not have to seize power from the workers all at once. The decimation of the working class left power in its hands at all levels of Russian society…Its members controlled industry and the police and the army…

A new class had taken power in Russia. It did not have to engage in direct military conflict with the workers to gain power, because direct workers’ power had not existed since 1918. But it did have to purge the party, which had been left in power, of all those who retained links, however tenuous, with the socialist tradition (32, 35, Harman)…”

In 1928 the NEP (New Economic Policy) was followed by the collectivization of agriculture and the First Five Year Plan. These coercive policies produced massive peasant resistance, resulting in their wholesale deportation to a vast network of forced labor camps. By the end of the 1930s, forced labor had become an important sector of the Soviet economy. As peasants moved to the towns, the workforce had increased. But trade unions were abolished, along with the right to strike. The working class was thoroughly regimented and its organizations, destroyed. The Soviet Union was now industrialized under what one of Trotsky’s comrades, Preobrazhensky, had called ‘primitive socialist accumulation’. The Stalinist bureaucracy became the collective capitalist exploiting the workers and peasants of Russia.

We shall now sketch Trotsky’s final contribution to Marxism: his campaign against Hitler’s coming to power and theory of fascism. Our author says:

“…Trotsky’s attempt to arouse the working class of Germany to the danger that threatened it was his greatest political deed in exile. Like no one else, and much earlier than anyone, he grasped the destructive delirium with which National Socialism was to burst upon the world…He represented in effect the self-preservation of the labour movement against the movement itself, which was as if bent on self-destruction (ll65, Deutscher)…”

This was during the Great Depression. In Germany of 1933 unemployment had grown to over six million. Wages and salaries were slashed, unemployment benefits cut, and millions were ruined: “A radical solution, never mind of what sort so long as it was sufficiently radical and effective – that was what an increasing number of Germans wanted (132, Hallas)…”

It was under these circumstances that Trotsky attempted to grasp the new phenomenon of fascism. Our author says of his theory: “…his view of Nazism has retained freshness and originality; it still remains the only coherent and realistic analysis of National Socialism (or of fascism at large) that can be found in Marxist literature (1168)…” Let us attempt a sketch of this theory.

Fascism is the product of capitalism in crisis. Needing the support of the state to preserve its profits, and faced with the choice between a liberal and a dictatorial regime, the capitalist class will sometimes choose the latter because it can better discipline the working class and its organizations. Nevertheless, the petty-bourgeoisie (i.e. middle class) is the regime’s social base.

The petty-bourgeoisie is the chief victim of the crisis. It finds itself crushed between the capitalist class, whose monopolies destroy small business, and the working class, which it fears it may soon join. The liberal parties have failed to find a way out of the crisis, so this provides an opportunity for the parties of the left and the right. The petty-bourgeoisie tends to follow whichever of these demonstrates the bolder leadership. And, if the left fails to do so, the right provides scapegoats to blame for the crisis (e.g. competing nations, Jews, immigrants, etc.).

The capitalist class uses the petty-bourgeoisie as a ‘battering ram’ against the working class and its organizations (after the fascists are elected, it abandons it). And the fascist party employs a dual strategy: first, it comes to power through elections; then it announces its dictatorship. Once it power, it outlaws leftwing parties, trade unions and the civil rights of all. The working class and its organizations are smashed.

It was under these circumstances that the Comintern expounded its “third period” theory:

“…According to that ‘theory’, the political history of the post-war era fell into three distinct chapters: the first, one of revolutionary strains and stresses, had lasted till  1923; the second, capitalist stabilization, had come to an end by 1928; while the third, now opening, was to bring the death agony of capitalism (1074, Deutscher)…”

In 1931, Trotsky declared that Germany was “…the key to the international situation.” Arguing against this “third period” line, he explained:

“The Social Democracy…derives its support from the workers. Fascism is supported by the petty-bourgeoisie…Fascism cannot entrench itself in power without annihilating the workers’ organizations…

For the monopolistic bourgeoisie, the parliamentary and fascist regimes represent only different vehicles of domination…But for both Social-Democracy and fascism, the choice…is a question of life and death…

When a state turns fascist, it doesn’t only mean that the forms…of government are changed…it means primarily and above all that the workers’ organizations are annihilated…the proletariat reduced to an amorphous state…Therein precisely is the gist of fascism (132, 33, Hallas)…”

Because of this danger, there was the most urgent need for a ‘united front’ policy between the Social Democrats and the Communists.  This would be a fighting coalition, in which the two parties would ‘march separately but strike together’. They would agree “how to strike, whom to strike, and when to strike’. But, in July-August 1928, the Comintern’s Sixth World Congress proclaimed:

“…the end of capitalist stabilization (‘the second period’) and the arrival of ‘the third period’…In this situation of growing imperialist contradiction and sharpening of the class struggle, fascism becomes more and more the method of bourgeois rule. In countries where there are strong social democratic parties, fascism assumes the particular form of social-fascism (126, 27, Hallas)…”

In other words, the Social Democrats – not the Nazis – were the main enemy of the working class. This policy encouraged the splitting of unions, and isolated communist party militants from trade unionists and social democrats: thus, rejecting the united front. At this time Russia was in the midst of the gigantic upheavals of the collectivization of agriculture and the first Five-Year-Plan of industrialization. The Soviet regime feared the risk of encouraging revolutions abroad, that might lead to foreign intervention at home.

Then, in September 1930, elections had taken place in Germany. The Social Democrat’s votes fell by a small percentage. The Communists made significant gains. But the Nazis increased their total by eight times their previous vote! The communists, under the influence of the Comintern’s ‘third period’ line, completely misread these results. They believed that the newly elected Breuning regime was already ‘social-fascist’. Trotsky wrote of this utter delusion:

“…the gain of the party (communists) pales completely beside the leap of fascism…If the KPD…has proved powerless to seriously shake the structure of social-democracy with the aid of the formula of ‘social-fascism’, then real fascism now threatens this structure…

The policy of the united front of the workers against fascism flows from this whole situation (134, Hallas)…”

A united front could have defeated Hitler, but the Comintern forbade such a policy. The first Five-Year Plan, with its immense privations, had mobilized the majority of the populace against the regime. It was isolated internationally, as well, so that the danger of foreign intervention might even have been welcomed. The Stalinist bureaucracy was convinced that it could not risk a revolution in Germany.

Hitler came to power in January 1933. Once in power, he outlawed the communists, social democrats and the trade unions. He unleashed his storm-troops, and a reign of terror destroyed the working class and all its organizations. Hitler was then declared dictator. Trotsky concludes:

“The history of the German working class represents the most tragic page of modern history…What shocking betrayals by…Social Democracy! What ineptitude…on the part of its revolutionary wing!…the policy of the Stalinist bureaucracy has been nothing but a chain of crimes which…prepared for the subsequent successes of fascism (138, Hallas)…”

(For the classic account of these events, see Fascism and Big Business by Daniel Guerin)


In his final years, Trotsky was preoccupied with how to pass ‘the revolutionary method’ on to the next generation. As the living memory of the working-class movement, he desperately sought those to which he might transmit this legacy. Our author says:

“…the workers, as they entered a new epoch of convulsions, had no…party…Lack of leadership had been responsible for the long sequence of debacles they had suffered…if the working class was the historic agent of socialism, and if…the workers could not win unless they were led by a ‘vanguard’, then the protracted ‘crisis of leadership’ could be resolved only by the formation of a new…party (1471)…”

Without leadership – a party of the working class – we can never transform capitalism into socialism. Trotsky’s preoccupation should remain our own.

Mark Dickman may be reached at


The Politics of the Toilet Police

Given all the craziness that comes out of Trump’s Washington, it is helpful to be reminded, from time to time, that craziness can come from other places-like Texas.  Hence this only slightly phantasmagorical tale.

Once upon a short time in the future in 2017, there lived in Texas, a twelve-year-old girl by the name of Josephina.  2017 isa the year that Sen. Lois Kolkhorst of Brenham, Texas, drafted what was known as Senate Bill 6 (S.B.6) and introduced it into the Texas legislature.  It is a Bill “relating to regulations and policies for entering or using a bathroom or changing facility. . . .”  As of this writing, S.B. 6 has not been passed, but for our purposes and, Texas being Texas, S.B. 6 will be treated as passed.  S.B.6 says the quoted words refer to a place where a person might be in a state of undress and includes a “restroom, locker room, changing room, or shower room.”   S.B.6 applies to all schools, universities and publicly owned building with bathrooms or changing rooms.  It provides that those buildings must have a policy that their facilities can be used “only by persons based on the persons’ biological sex” that being the sex “which is stated on a person’s birth certificate.”  S.B. 6 has many other provisions but those are the pertinent ones for this tale.

One day, when Josephina was celebrating her 12th birthday, she announced to her parents that she wanted to lose her “ina”, those being the last three letters in her name, (that quite by coincidence rhymed with a part of her body she no longer wanted to be identified with) and, henceforth, wanted to be known only as “Joseph.”

Josephina’s parents were understanding and went with her to buy a new wardrobe of boy’s clothes.  When Josephina was dressed in her new clothes,  it was obvious that she had abandoned her “ina” and looked for all the world a boy.  The parents advised the school that in the future Josephina was to be addressed as “Joseph” or “Joe” and that, for all purposes, she was to be considered a boy. The school officials were accommodating, but explained that they did not have a single stall bathroom and Joseph would have to continue using the girl’s locker room for changing clothes or, when going to the bathroom.  School officials further explained that they could not make an exception to the requirement that Joe use the girls’ facilities, because of S.B. 6. They also said that, in addition to S.B. 6, they had heard a rumor that legislators would probably enact another bill creating something called the TSA (Toilet Security Administration) although that, they emphasized, was only a rumor.  The school officials explained that from rumors it had heard, in front of every restroom and changing room in every building subject to S.B. 6, there will be a TSA official to inspect the birth certificates of anyone seeking to enter the facility, irrespective of a person’s physical appearance or attire.

Pursuant to the rumored TSA law (which, I again emphasize, has not been introduced in the Texas legislature but, Texas being Texas, may be as soon as someone in the legislature thinks of it)  a person without a birth certificate will be taken to a private room where the private parts of the person seeking entry can be inspected by a gender neutral inspector, to ensure that the person entering the facility is of the sex appropriate to use of the facility the person seeks to enter, irrespective of what the person’s appearance would otherwise suggest

S.B. 6 is going to make toilets in Texas among the most interesting places in Texas to visit.  When Joseph gets to be an adult he hopes to enter one of the professions where men wear coats and ties. If he is attending a meeting in a building subject to S.B. 6 where he is not known to the TSA agents, and needs to use the toilet facilities, he will, upon presenting his birth certificate, be sent into the women’s toilet where some of the women, having not had the benefit of seeing his birth certificate, will mistakenly assume that he is a man and has no business being in their bathroom even though he enters a stall with a door and locks it.  The less secure among the women may actually scream, thus causing security officers to come rushing in to prevent what is, presumably, some sort of assault perpetrated by Joe.

In addition, to the clothes Joseph’s parents bought for him, for his 16th birthday they gave him money so that he could have transgender surgery and acquire all the physical attributes that boys born boys have. Should Joe get into a hot tub in a women’s locker room where the custom is to wear no suit, there may also be exclamations of dismay that will not be quieted even if Joe presents the other bathers his birth certificate.

This column offers just a few examples of what will happen under S.B. 6.  Since it is only about the issues that Joseph will confront, there is no discussion of what happens when a boy named Paul follows Joseph’s path in reverse.  Such a column would be called: “The Perils of Paulina.”

Review: Timothy B. Tyson’s “The Blood of Emmett Till”

It’s difficult to imagine that another book about race in the United States published this year will be as disturbing as Timothy B. Tyson’s The Blood of Emmett Till. As many readers know, Till was a fourteen-year-old black boy from Chicago, visiting relatives in Mississippi in 1955. Because he is said to have provoked a white woman by flirtation and a wolf’s whistle, he was brutally murdered by the woman’s husband and half-brother: his body repeatedly beaten and mutilated, finally shot, and dumped in a river, from where it was retrieved three days later. At the trial, the killers (who had confessed to their crime) were exonerated and lived the rest of their lives, even profiting from the horrible murder by publishing an account of it. The nation professed to be shocked but did little about the despicable crime, though Mamie, Till’s mother, spent much of the rest of her life publicizing the atrocity, beginning with insisting that her son’s casket would be open at his funeral for all the world to see.

The Emmett Till murder remains one of the worst incidents of “Southern justice” in a nation that still, today, is struggling to deal with the country’s legacy of slavery, Reconstruction, Jim Crow, and Civil Rights. In this powerful new book, Tyson says that Carolyn Bryant, the white woman who claimed to be Till’s victim, contacted him after the publication of his earlier book, Blood Done Sign My Name (2004). She had not spoken out about the incident during all the years since it had occurred. In their encounter, she told Tyson that her fifty-year-old account of being assaulted by Emmitt Till “had never been true.” He had “not grabbed her, and…not attempted to rape her.” Emmett’s own mother had said repeatedly, “Nothing that boy did could ever justify what happened to him.”

What we do know is that Mamie’s marriage to Louis Till was troubled. As John Edgar Wideman has written in Writing to Save a Life (see my review in CounterPunch, Dec. 16, 2016), Louis joined the army to get around the restraining order against him, and shortly after WW II was executed for supposedly raping an Italian woman. Those charges are likely to be as erroneous as the ones against his son, in 1955. Emmett grew up without his biological father (his mother eventually remarried) and suffered from polio as a child. Carolyn Bryant and her husband had a store in Money, Mississippi, that catered mostly to poor black people. Emmett entered the store and said something that angered her, presumably a sexual innuendo. His fate was immediately sealed.

When Emmett’s body was pulled from the Tallahatchie River several days later, it was obvious that his head had been crushed before he was shot, and his body had been weighted down by a 150 pound iron fan “used to ventilate cotton gins, [which] was lashed to the corpse’s neck with several feet of barbed wire.” His feet had floated up and bloodemmettbroken the surface of the water. When Mamie identified her son’s body, she said, “”Let the people see what they did to my boy.” Photos appeared in major American publications. Thousands (estimates run from 100,000 to 250,000) viewed the open casket in Chicago in September.

The twelve jurors during the trial were all white men. There had been increased racial tensions in the South for several months before Till’s murder, provoked in part by the Brown v. Board of Education decision the year before. “One Delta legislator declared that ‘a few killings would be the best thing for the state.’ A few judicious murders now, he suggested ‘would save a lot of bloodshed later on.’” The NAACP was cited throughout the trial as a Communist organization, inciting unrest in the South. The little town of Sumner of a few hundred people, where the trial took place (because of where the body had turned up), was overwhelmed by observers. The courtroom was packed, with another thousand people outside. The prosecution tried to indict Chicago as the real problem, i.e., that Till’s actions were caused by the liberal environment where he had grown up. The carnival-like aspect in the courtroom included people drinking beer (the temperature was almost 100 degrees).

But what was much worse was the judge’s decision to remove the jury from the courtroom during the questioning of several important witnesses (including Till’s mother’s). Worst of all was the defense’s position that “the body pulled from the river was not the body of Emmett Till but instead part of an NAACP-sponsored scheme to bring down shame upon the state of Mississippi and drive a wedge between the states.” Sounds like Alex Jones’ crazy statement that the Obama government staged Sandy Hook so the government can confiscate citizens’ guns. With such construed testimony, Till’s mother left the courtroom before the jury’s decision. She and many other black people knew that justice would not be served. The jury debated for barely an hour and then returned with their decision of “not guilty” for the two accused murderers.

Tyson describes the Emmett Till murder as “the most notorious racial incident in the world.” Fortunately, the Northern press and the international reaction to the court’s decision kept the trial in the news. There were protests throughout the United States for several months. Dean Acheson, Secretary of State, in 1952, had earlier contextualized the problem of such incidents for the country: “Racial discrimination in the United States remains a source of constant embarrassment to this Government in the day-to-day conduct of its foreign relations.” Fortunately, the NAACP kept up its battle with the South. Mamie Till Bradley and Moses Wright, a spokesperson for the organization, were determined that the tragedy would remain in the news, speaking to audiences totaling a quarter of a million people during the ensuing months.

Tyson’s profound conclusion moves the Emmett Till tragedy into the present time: “We are still killing black youth because we have not yet killed white supremacy.” Much earlier, William Faulkner commented on the murder as follows, “If we in America have reached the point in our desperate culture where we must murder children, no matter for what reason or what color, we don’t deserve to survive and probably won’t.” Or, in the words of James Baldwin, “Not everything that is faced can be changed; but nothing can be changed until it is faced.” Think of how important those words remain today.

Timothy B. Tyson’s The Blood of Emmett Till

Simon & Schuster, 285 pp., $27


Canada’s Shameful Role in the Overthrow of Ghana’s President Kwame Nkrumah

A half-century and one year ago today Canada helped overthrow a leading pan Africanist president. Ghana’s Canadian-trained army overthrew Kwame Nkrumah, a leader dubbed “Man of the Millennium” in a 2000 poll by BBC listeners in Africa.

Washington, together with London, backed the coup. Lester Pearson’s government also gave its blessing to Nkrumah’s ouster. In The Deceptive Ash: Bilingualism and Canadian Policy in Africa: 1957-1971, John P. Schlegel writes: “the Western orientation and the more liberal approach of the new military government was welcomed by Canada.”

The day Nkrumah was overthrown the Canadian prime minister was asked in the House of Commons his opinion about this development. Pearson said nothing of substance on the matter. The next day External Affairs Minister Paul Martin Sr. responded to questions about Canada’s military training in Ghana, saying there was no change in instructions. In response to an MP’s question about recognizing the military government, Martin said:

In many cases recognition is accorded automatically. In respective cases such as that which occurred in Ghana yesterday, the practice is developing of carrying on with the government which has taken over, but according no formal act until some interval has elapsed. We shall carry on with the present arrangement for Ghana. Whether there will be any formal act will depend on information which is not now before us.

While Martin and Pearson were measured in public, the Canadian high commissioner in Accra, C.E. McGaughey, was not. In an internal memo to External Affairs just after Nkrumah was overthrown, McGaughey wrote “a wonderful thing has happened for the West in Ghana and Canada has played a worthy part.” Referring to the coup, the high commissioner added “all here welcome this development except party functionaries and communist diplomatic missions.” He then applauded the Ghanaian military for having “thrown the Russian and Chinese rascals out.”

Less than two weeks after the coup, the Pearson government informed the military junta that Canada intended to carry on normal relations. In the immediate aftermath of Nkrumah’s overthrow, Canada sent $1.82 million ($15 million today) worth of flour to Ghana and offered the military regime a hundred CUSO volunteers. For its part, the International Monetary Fund (IMF), which had previously severed financial assistance to Nkrumah’s government, engaged immediately after the coup by restructuring Ghana’s debt. Canada’s contribution was an outright gift. During the three years between 1966 and 1969 the National Liberation Council military regime, received as much Canadian aid as during Nkrumah’s ten years in office with $22 million in grants and loans. Ottawa was the fourth major donor after the US, UK and UN.

Two months after Nkrumah’s ouster the Canadian high commissioner in Ghana wrote to Montréal-based de Havilland Aircraft with a request to secure parts for Ghana’s Air Force. Worried Nkrumah might attempt a counter coup, the Air Force sought parts for non-operational aircraft in the event it needed to deploy its forces.

Six months after overthrowing Nkrumah, the country’s new leader, General Joseph Ankrah, made an official visit to Ottawa as part of a trip that also took him through London and Washington.

On top of diplomatic and economic support for Nkrumah’s ouster, Canada provided military training. Schlegel described the military government as a “product of this military training program.” A Canadian major who was a training advisor to the commander of a Ghanaian infantry brigade discovered preparations for the coup the day before its execution. Bob Edwards said nothing. After Nkrumah’s removal the Canadian high commissioner boasted about the effectiveness of Canada’s Junior Staff Officers training program at the Ghanaian Defence College. Writing to the Canadian under secretary of external affairs, McGaughey noted, “All the chief participants of the coup were graduates of this course.”

After independence Ghana’s army remained British dominated. The colonial era British generals were still in place and the majority of Ghana’s officers continued to be trained in Britain. In response to a number of embarrassing incidents, Nkrumah released the British commanders in September 1961. It was at this point that Canada began training Ghana’s military.

While Canadians organized and oversaw the Junior Staff Officers course, a number of Canadians took up top positions in the Ghanaian Ministry of Defence. In the words of Canada’s military attaché to Ghana, Colonel Desmond Deane-Freeman, the Canadians in these positions imparted “our way of thinking”. Celebrating the influence of “our way of thinking”, in 1965 High Commissioner McGaughey wrote the under secretary of external affairs:

Since independence, it [Ghana’s military] has changed in outlook, perhaps less than any other institution. It is still equipped with Western arms and although essentially non-political, is Western oriented.

Not everyone was happy with the military’s attitude or Canada’s role therein. A year after Nkrumah’s ouster, McGaughey wrote Ottawa: “For some African and Asian diplomats stationed in Accra, I gather that there is a tendency to identify our aid policies particularly where military assistance is concerned with the aims of American and British policies. American and British objectives are unfortunately not regarded by such observers as being above criticism or suspicion.” Thomas Howell and Jeffrey Rajasooria echo the high commissioner’s assessment in their book Ghana and Nkrumah:

Members of the ruling CPP tended to identify Canadian aid policies, especially in defence areas, with the aims of the U.S. and Britain. Opponents of the Canadian military program went so far as to create a countervailing force in the form of the Soviet equipped, pro-communist President’s Own Guard Regiment [POGR]. The coup on 24 February 1966 which ousted Kwame Krumah and the CPP was partially rooted in this divergence of military loyalty.

The POGR became a “direct and potentially potent rival” to the Canadian-trained army, notes Christopher Kilford in The Other Cold War: Canada’s Military Assistance to the Developing World, 1945-1975. Even once Canadian officials in Ottawa “well understood” Canada’s significant role in the internal military battle developing in Ghana, writes Kilford, “there was never any serious discussion around withdrawing the Canadian training team.”

As the 1960s wore on Nkrumah’s government became increasingly critical of London and Washington’s support for the white minority in southern Africa. Ottawa had little sympathy for Nkrumah’s pan-African ideals and so it made little sense to continue training the Ghanaian Army if it was, in Kilford’s words, to “be used to further Nkrumah’s political aims”. Kilford continued his thought, stating: “that is unless the Canadian government believed that in time a well-trained, professional Ghana Army might soon remove Nkrumah.”

During a visit to Ghana in 2012 former Canadian Governor General Michaëlle Jean laid a wreath on Nkrumah’s tomb. But, in commemorating this leading pan-Africanist, she failed to acknowledge the role her country played in his downfall.

The Extradition Saga of Kim Dotcom

The hunger with which US officials pursue copyright or general intellectual property violations is insatiably manic. The degree of that hunger is expressed by the now suspended, and most likely defunct Trans-Pacific Partnership, an attempt to further globalise the policing of IP laws in favour of corporate and copyright control.

Then come the vigilantes and those singing different, discordant tunes suggesting another alternative. One such figure was Kim Dotcom, founder of Megaupload and on the US Department of Justice wanted list for some years, along with company co-founders Mathias Ortmann, Bram van der Kolk and Finn Batato.

His case is doing the torturous rounds in New Zealand, where the German-born defendant remains based, still seeing whether he can elude US authorities on the subject of inventive alleged violations.  It has become one of the largest criminal copyright cases in history, beginning after Dotcom’s dramatic arrest in 2012 at his New Zealand mansion at the hands of dozens of agents, both NZ and US, along with two helicopters.

The New Zealand court decided at the start of this week that the 2015 decision of the lower court favouring the extradition of Kim Dotcom and his co-defendants be upheld.  Justice Murray Gilbert of the High Court seemed rather tricky with his reasoning.  For one, he admitted “that online communication of copyright protected works to the public is not a criminal offence in New Zealand under s. 131 of the Copyright Act.”

Dotcom and his legal team would have felt rather thrilled with that. The prosecution plank had collapsed.  Case closed.  Except, of course, that it hadn’t.  Justice Gilbert proceeded to assume a mighty pulpit and preach despite the absence of a NZ copyright offence in this case.

Much of this lay in the prosecutorial effort to expand the range of offences, a tactic the Dotcom team termed “massaging”.  In widening the net, acts amounting to internet piracy were suggested, including racketeering, money laundering, to name but a few charges additional to the issue of copyright infringement.  Many coalesced around the issue of conspiracy, a favourite, catch-all provision US prosecutors have loved to employ.

The Crimes Act, in other words, had loomed into judicial consideration with its full force, its “general criminal law fraud provisions” doing their bit to undermine the case of the appellants, despite Dotcom’s assertion that this was purely a copyright matter.  Read along with s. 101B of the Extradition Act itself, the judge agreed “that the appellants are eligible for extradition on all counts for which their surrender is sought.”

That wilful infringement supposedly committed by Dotcom did something devastating to the copyright holder: deprive it “of something to which it may be entitled.”  (The amount alleged is staggering: $500 million worth.  Dotcom is alleged to have netted $175 million in criminal proceeds.)  It followed that the alleged conduct on count 2 constituted “the offence of conspiracy to defraud in terms of art II.16.”

Article II, paragraph 16 of the extradition treaty between the US and NZ outlines the grounds for extradition:

Obtaining property, money or valuable securities by false pretences or by conspiracy to defraud the public or any person by deceit or falsehood or other fraudulent means, whether such deceit or falsehood or any fraudulent means would or would not amount to a false pretense.

Digital activists have a brat element to them, an impetuousness that follows the crooked over the straight. They are often necessary boons excavating to find deficiencies in existing systems, rather than spotty criminals to be potted.

In Dotcom’s case, a cloud storage provider is being prosecuted, an aspect that has grave implications in the broader internet domain.  For one, it suggests a self-policing dimension to the operations of such an enterprise. Dotcom’s claims there, rather reasonably, are that policing the behaviour of 50 million daily users of a site is hardly credible, though efforts were made to detect copyright infringements. For all that, the US DOJ would still claim that there was a mere “veneer of legality” to such operations.

As Dotcom’s barrister, Ron Mansfield, said after Justice Gilbert had down his judgment, “The High Court has accepted that Parliament made a clear and deliberate decision not to criminalise this type of alleged conduct by internet service providers, making them not responsible for the acts of their users.”

Dotcom’s legal counsel, Ira Rothken, put it such last year: “The second you put a cloud storage site on the Internet, whether it’s Google or Megaupload, there’s going to be good users and bad users.  There’s going to be folks who are going to infringe, there are going to be folks who are saving wedding photos and using that for fair use.”

But the legal assessment of Dotcom’s case suggests that prosecuting authorities will be favoured, and that powerful corporate demands expressed through state intermediaries and lobbies, will continue to have their day. Any effort to battle this case out in a US setting is most likely, as Rothken asserts, going to take place on an “unfair playing ground“. Next stop: the NZ Court of Appeal.

South Korea’s Artist Blacklist

Question: What do a brilliant feminist novelist, a cutting-edge film director, and a Nobel-nominated poet have in common, in South Korea?

Answer: They are, of course, all world-class artists in their fields. They were also among the almost ten thousand artists revealed to be black-listed by the South Korean Government. A hundred page document originating from the South Korean president’s office, revealed by the Hankook Ilbo, listed these 9473 artists as targets to be surveilled, starved of financial and logistical support. Instructions were given that these artists e “punished” and “intimidated”.

Film director Park Chan Wook is probably the best internationally known on this list. A cinematic prodigy and aesthetic visionary in his own right, his Cannes’ award winning Old Boy is a hallucinatory epic of survival, resistance, and revenge. Kafka meets Sophocles and Aeschylus in the streets of modern day Seoul, the film tells a tale of arbitrary imprisonment, the torturing of victims to madness—the madness of an incestuously violent authoritarian state—and forgetting. It’s most clearly a metaphor for the South Korea of the Park-Chun-Noh era, during the developmental dictatorship of the collaboratoriat, when innocent people disappeared off the streets for no good reason, and the entire country was under lock down, surveillance, routinely gassed, and forced to undergo bad haircuts.

Han Kang is a masterful feminist writer, recent winner of the 2016 Man Booker award for the Vegetarian, a Kafkaesque critique of authoritarian patriarchy and its effects on the psyche and body of a young woman. She is the first Korean writer to win a major international literary prize. Her real masterpiece, however, is the hard-to-bear, hard-to-market, heart-searing Human Acts, a luminous, haunting, textured denunciation of the US-enabled massacre of South Korean citizens in the city of Kwangju in 1980.

Ko Un is the most venerable; a deep, powerful visionary; the senior statesman of poetry and resistance of South Korea. Zen master, jazz-like vocal performer, and radical artistic revolutionary. He has quietly reinvented the idiom of Korean poetry while extending the meaning of literature beyond the realm of culture and politics. Short-listed at least 4 times for the Nobel prize in literature, Robert Hass referred to him as “one of the heroes of human freedom in this half century… somebody who has been equal to the task [of history], a feat rare among human beings.”

Countless thousands with talent, artistry, or integrity were on the black list.

This begs, the question, why? Why hound and destroy artists, cultural workers, visionaries?

What were their sins and trespasses?

On Thought Crimes and Punishments

The list makes no bones about its reasons: 594 were blacklisted for opposing a government enforcement ordinance about the sinking of a ferry. 754 were put on the list for petitioning the government to investigate and take responsibility.

In 2014, a ferry, the MV Sewol, overloaded with iron rebar for the construction of a US-involved military base on Jeju Island, sank abruptly, killing 304 people, most were young students on a field trip. Flaunting neoliberal deregulation while kowtowing to geopolitical pressure to build the base, the Sewol ferry was a disaster waiting to happen, a symbol of the ship of state gone far astray. The petition asked—legitimately—to discover the causes of the sinking, and for the government to take responsibility.

Another 8125 artists and cultural figures were put on this blacklist for the inexcusable thought crimes of supporting opposition candidate Moon Jae In in his 2012 presidential bid or for supporting the current Seoul Mayor Park Won soon.

A large swathe of the artistic and cultural class were thus designated as enemies of the state.

Those placed on the blacklist were made ineligible for government funding, subjected to tax audits, prevented from exhibiting or screening at government sponsored or public events, put under surveillance, harassed, threatened, starved of resources. Some of them became literally untouchable–the noted activist painter Hong Sung-dam, best known for his extraordinary woodblocks about the Gwang Ju massacre and his censorship from the Gwangju Biennale, found that no logistics company would ship his paintings to Germany, where he had been invited to exhibit at the Prestigious Berlin Arts Festival. He had to recreate his paintings from scratch on site.

The Busan Film festival, the largest Asian cinema gathering, comparable to the Cannes Film Festival, found itself defunded and consigned to a cultural sink hole after it attempted to screen the documentary: The Truth Shall Not Sink With Sewol, a hard-hitting investigative documentary about the sinking of the ferry. The Mayor of Busan, attempted to stop the Festival from screening; local film makers organized protests at the interference, and the film was screened anyway. Drastic budget cuts and unprecedented audits hit the festival afterwards. Cinema Dal, the courageous distributor, was excluded from state funding and audited; even the cellphone records of employees were investigated. Cinema Dal is struggling, like the doomed Sewol Ho, to stay afloat. Other like-minded distributors, like AtNineFilm, the distributors of Namyeong Dong 1985, the story of the arrest and torture of activist Kim Kun-tae, were also defunded.

To understand, we need to look at history.

Killing Art, and the Art of Killing:

To break these foreign forces, these compradors, this betrayal,
to sweep up this division and this fascism,
to achieve our independence,
our equality, and our reunification,
buried deep in this history…

We will fight, dead.
We will fight, feverishly living.
Oh, dead fighters, friends,
a hundred years of struggle is not over yet.

— Ko Un

The modern South Korean state, was artificially and brutally constructed to prevent and suppress the emergence of an indigenous, populist, democratic nation state. In 1945, after liberation from Japanese colonization, thousands of peoples’ committees, representing millions of koreans, united to form a populist socialist government, and constituted the Korean People’s Republic (KPR). The caretaker US government in the south banned the KPR, and violently repressed its leaders, labor unions, and peasant cooperatives. Instead it, put into power the dregs of the Japanese colonial apparatus, creating a semi-vassal state malleable to its geopolitical designs. This state, illegitimate at its conception, has had a long, dark history of punishing, terrorizing, and torturing those who oppose the government. It’s also had a penchant for creating and maintaining long lists of “subversives” for punishment, erasure, and extermination.

One of the founding stains of this Korean state were the Bodo League registrations of 1949, where “leftist sympathizers” were told to register in exchange for “guidance” and amnesty. These registrations were a redux—down to the very name–of the punitive Japanese colonial era registrations. Most of the “leftists” dragooned into signing onto these lists were apolitical, impoverished peasants and artists recruited to fill mandated quotas. A year after collating these lists, as civil war crested into war, the South Korean government lined up the Bodo League registrants and shot them en masse, burying them—dead and alive-in miles upon miles of makeshift trenches. Near the coast, they were shot and dumped out to sea. The scale of killing was so vast and extensive that the Okinawan coast line, five hundred miles away, was littered with corpses; the Japanese government apparently lodged a complaint that their beaches were awash with korean bodies. In this fashion, and within a few short weeks, some 200,000—higher estimates say up to 1.2 Million innocents–were exterminated, making the Bodo League Massacres the world’s fastest—and least acknowledged– genocide of the 20th century. These atrocities, witnessed, facilitated and green-lighted by the US military, were then filmed and attributed to “communists”.

More directly related to current events, Park Chung Hee, the father of the current president, was a Japanese collaborator who took power in 1961, and ran the country like a personal brothel and a labor concentration camp. Despite western attempts to portray the country as a developmental miracle, the entire country, during most of the Park Era, was an economic runt, fenced in and run like a concentration camp modelled after the Japanese Imperial colony, Manchukuo, where Park had cut his teeth as a counterinsurgency officer against anti-colonial guerillas. Park copied the model of colonized Manchukuo, recreating a totalitarian state driven by forced labor, developmental prostitution, and sub-contracted military adventurism (in Vietnam).

With tightly sealed borders—only select people could obtain passports to travel—some attempted to escape to North Korea–a more prosperous, more egalitarian country at the time. These people were invariably shot to death at the borders by the South Korean military. Those who criticized or protested the government were routinely charged with being North Korean subversives, spies, and sympathizers, and were summarily arrested, tortured, imprisoned, or killed.

Tens of thousands of students, artists, labor organizers, were arrested, rounded up, imprisoned, tortured, and disappeared during this era; millions were terrorized. It was, despite propaganda and revisionism to the contrary, Korea’s darkest, ugliest, most sordid period.

During this period, criticism of the government was almost unthinkable; the arts were stifled almost into oblivion; and even failure to be sufficiently sycophantic was the kiss of death for artists.

Dying for Art: Little Deaths and Big Deaths

I wait for time to wash me away like muddy water.
I wait for death to come and wash me clean,

To release me from the memory of those other squalid deaths, which haunt my days and nights. I fight with the fact of my humanity. I fight with the idea that death is the only way of escaping this fact.

– Han Kang, Human Acts

Shin Jung Hyun, the father of Korean Rock, often referred to as South Korea’s Jimi Hendrix or Elvis, is probably the most talented musician you have probably never heard of. As South Korea’s (and at the time, one of the world’s) most virtuoso guitarists, he was commissioned by Park Chung Hee to write a piece praising Park. Instead he wrote a gauzy, trippy, moody, Doors-like piece of psychedelia extolling the natural beauties of the country. He was blacklisted, surveilled, eventually arrested, and his career and life was effectively consigned to oblivion. Shin was one of the lucky ones.

Other artists were not so fortunate. In 1968, the South Korean government rounded up 200 academics, poets, artists, and musicians, and accused them of being North Korean sympathizers and spies. This included the avant-garde composer Yun Isang—inventor of the compositional technique of Hauptton—who was kidnapped in Berlin, hustled back to Korea, and promptly sentenced to death, then life imprisonment. This entire “East Berlin Spy Incident” was later acknowledged to be a complete and total fabrication of the South Korean intelligence services. Yun, released only after massive international outcry, was exiled to Germany, and lived the rest of his life out in shattered, broken, isolated despair.

Female actresses, dancers, and performers were also routinely rounded up by the KCIA, less for anything they had done, but because they had caught the wandering eye of President Park. They would then be required to “entertain”, his “most noble presidential excellency” at one of the KCIA-run “safe houses”–gaudy pleasure palaces with oversize beds designed for presidential orgies. A black KCIA limousine would roll up like a terrifying hearse at the victim’s house; the actress or performer would be told that they had 15 minutes to doll up and present themselves; they would then be whisked to one of Park secret residences for their assignation. Failure to comply with Park’s droit de seigneur ended up badly for actresses or their families. One noted example, Kim Sam Hwa, a celebrated screen beauty and renowned traditional dancer, caught the lascivious eye of Park. A happily married mother with an infant baby, when she balked at the relationship with Park, her husband was spirited away. When he returned, he claimed, blind terror in his voice, that he had been to a “terrible, unimaginable place”, and that he needed to separate from her. He vanished the next day, leaving a note: “My love, they’ve come to take me away. I have to go. Please don’t look for me. That’s the only way for you and me to survive. Take care of our child. Far in the future, I will see you again. I love you”. He never was seen again; Kim never acted again, and was eventually sent into exile after Park tired of using her. Park’s own final karmic comeuppance happened at a safe house, when a singer and a drama student who had been procured for his sexual needs, witnessed the penetration of his body with lead bullets fired by their procurer, the head of the KCIA. Thus with a bang, and a whimper, South Korea’s Caligula passed ignominiously away; more generals would promptly fill his shoes.

Artists during this period were seen simply as servants of presidential power or pleasure; film and culture in this period were used as propaganda tools to maintain control of the populace, promote development objectives, and justify the authoritarian dictatorship. Art critic Kai Hong argues that during this period, South Korea exercised the strictest censorship of any country in the world. It’s clear that it also exercised some of the most arbitrary, perverse and terrifying.

The Prince of Darkness: “Make Them Afraid”

Anyone loitering at the seaside early in the morning,
anyone who laughs for no reason
at the sight of someone, anyone, all are spies. Report them.
Report them and earn a reward that will change your luck.

– Ko Un

During this dark, violent era of Park Chung Hee, a prosecutor by the name of Kim Ki-choon, played a key role in the architecture of terror that enabled the persecution of “subversives” and artists. A young but stellar legal mind—nicknamed “Kim Smarty Pants”—he was the key drafter and enforcer of South Korea’s dictatorial 1972 “Yushin Constitution”, a totalitarian document that made Park Chung Hee dictator for life and consolidated his reign of terror within an imperial executive. In particular, Kim is considered responsible for drafting the sections that conferred absolute emergency powers to the president, and the right to appoint a third of the national assembly and dissolve it on a whim, according him powers comparable to the Japanese Emperor during the Showa-era Empire. Kim also served as the grand inquisitor of the Anti-communist Investigation Bureau of South Korea’s horrific gestapo, the KCIA, which operated 30 torture centers across the country, and which, day and night, arbitrarily detained, tortured, imprisoned, and disappeared thousands of people that criticized, crossed, or simply displeased the government.

He also served as prosecutor general, justice minister, and then Saenuri (GNP) Party lawmaker from 1996-2008. Never one to let by an opportunity for bullying, Kim led the impeachment of the much-beloved civil rights-lawyer-turned-progressive-president Roh Moo-hyun on trumped up charges. Last but not least, Kim was one of the “Group of Seven Mentors”, a shadowy cabal of powerful consigliori who brought Park Geun Hye, Park Chung Hee’s daughter into national politics in a 2007 presidential bid.

This same Kim Ki-choon, later became the current president Park Geun Hye’s chief of staff. Kim has now been fingered as the author of this current blacklist, which was circulated to the Korean Film Institute, the Korea Arts Institute, and the Ministry of Arts, Culture, and Sports. According to Yoo Jin-ryong, former minister of culture, the list was masterminded by Kim Ki-choon from the president’s office. Reprising a paranoid page from his days as KCIA inquisitor, when he hounded and framed critics as traitorous leftist spies, it’s reported that Kim called for a “combative response to leftists in the cultural and art circles” and ordered aides to “uncover their networks.” He described progressive teachers and journalists as “poisonous mushrooms” to be extirpated; gave explicit “instructions to punish artists who satirized President Park” and to “conduct a “loyalty checks” of government officials”. He also directed staff to “intimidate” courts of law; and to “induce” scholars to write pro-government newspaper articles.

“Make them afraid”, said Kim. Many, indeed, were—and still are—afraid.

Crashing the Korean Wave

This approach was a 180 degree departure from the previous progressive administrations of Kim Dae Jung and Roh Moo Hyun, which had liberalized artistic production, relieving it from the toxic and stultifying culture of control of the prior military dictatorships. Presidents Kim and Roh had actively supported and nurtured the development of the culture industry, seeing it not only as part of necessary political liberalization, but also as strategic economic development. In particular, President Kim Dae Jung designated cultural production—film, broadcasting, gaming, music–and related technology, media, and communication industries, and their export–as designated growth engines for the Korean economy. He also set up a vast range of agencies and councils to promote the development of culture, along with multiple funding streams and sponsorships of large public promotional events; universities and colleges were also funded and encouraged to produce creative talent.

By the early 2000s this strategy had yielded impressive results, as Korean cultural products—film, music, television shows progressively swept China, Japan, Taiwan, and then global markets (Latin America, Europe), in what was named the “Korean wave” or “Hallyu”. Within a short decade, the revenue of the culture industry increased five-fold from $600 M to $3.2 B. South Korean television, music, and art were increasingly seen as the leading edge of Asian culture, and some of the most innovative and visionary cinema of the decade was made by Korean artists, many of whom were creatively processing the nightmares of the dictatorships.

The Park-Choi-Kim blacklist and its regressive cultural agenda is clearly a reversion to the Park Chung Hee era, when cultural production was expressly controlled, managed, subordinated to, and exploited solely for political ends, and where all art and artists are required to be visibly and sycophantically supportive or subservient.

This Park I era was largely an arid desert of culture, notable for its bad taste, maudlin kitsch, and laugh out-loud propaganda, especially in cinema, where misogynistic soft-core pornography and manipulative nationalistic screeds were the order of the day.

In this new Park II era, Korean films of artistic merit have been sidelined or left unfunded, brilliant directors left scrambling for funding, while maudlin, nationalistic, and reactionary films, shows, and organizations have had money thrown at them. While the occasional political film—usually expressing itself through metaphor—squeaks through, and no end of creativity and artistry spared by individual artists, for the most part, the industry and media companies have been bullied, harassed (for example, the vice-chair of CJ media) at the whims and pleasures of the Park-Choi-Kim cabal. The rest—saccharine pop culture—apes the addictive, mind-rotting, formulaic spectacle-candy that passes as artistic production in the west. The Ministry of Culture, Art, and Sports has been treated as a toy bauble of Choi Soon-sil, its budgets and funding seemingly directed by an artistic nincompoop—Choi herself—or a variety of self-serving or vengeful hanger-ons. Even the Olympic medal-winning figure skater Kim Yu na—a paragon of elegant, generous, gracious celebrity, was reputed to be on a blue house black list, for having had the impertinence to refuse to participate in an idiotic exercise video created by Choi Soon-sil’s beau, Cha Eun taek.

Kim, Roh, and a generation of martyred artists must be banging on their coffins and turning in their shallow, unmarked graves.

The 18 Brumaire of Park Geun Hye

A girl who looks quiet but plays when she plays
– Psy, Gang Nam Style

Kim Ki-choon is an old man now, sullen, defensive, slightly humbled, no longer the grand inquisitor of yore. During his interrogation in the Korean national assembly over the blacklisting, he did his best Eichmann impression, stumbling, fudging, and stonewalling, claiming that he was an “old man” with a “bad memory”, and “unaware that the list was illegal”. Still, it’s unlikely that Kim will go the way of the students, poets and artists he blacklisted and persecuted in the Park Era: to prison, to oblivion, or the gallows. Clearly, he still has his bones, fingernails, orifices, and wits intact, and he is still surrounded by powerful people and forces.

Nevertheless, this partial revealing and unraveling of the Park II administration—the ignominious 18th Brumaire of Park Geun Hye—is a sweet moment of karmic redress. If Kim is convicted—for abuse of power–, it will be belated, minimal, a slap on the wrist compared to the enormity of his iniquities, but still poetic justice for one of South Korea’s most infamous inquisitors and reactionaries. At the current moment, he and his angel-faced minister of culture, Cho Yun-soon, have been arrested for authoring the blacklist, but the list itself may reach all the way to Choi Soon-sil. Kim and Cho themselves are but one of the many tentacles of a vast-reaching corruption scandal involving the current president, the major corporations of South Korea, and the mysterious confidante-cum-Shaman, Choi Soon-sil, and her cronies. Old friends since the days of the dictatorship, it appears that Park suffered Choi Soon-sil, her close confidante, to edit speeches, dictate policy, game the presidency for private enrichment and personal gain, and to yank around the country’s artists, culture industry, and corporations on a whim, underscoring the irrational, incestuous, and superstitious foundation underlying South Korea’s neofascist capitalist order.

This regressive, neoliberal Park-Choi-Kim tendency could probably have gotten away with most of it; slowly, cunningly, and incrementally dialing Korea back to the Yushin Era, had it not been for Choi Soon-sil’s overweening horseplay. Choi insisted on shaking down the Samsung corporation for million-dollar horses for her dressage-athlete daughter, forced them to pony up for the training, and, in a critical misstep, bullied an elite women’s college into admitting her ne’er-do-well daughter on an equestrian scholarship.

Unlike the US, where any rich fool and their idiot progeny can legally buy their way into an elite university, in South Korea, the tradition of meritocratic admission and success holds firm, dating back to a thousand-year legacy of Confucian bureaucratic exams. The myth of meritocratic, competitive examination system is probably the only thing that holds back a dam of incandescent rage against an otherwise intolerably stacked system of rampant exploitation, inequality, and elitist iniquity. Young people routinely refer to their country as a living hell, “Hell Josun”, lament their fate as proletarian “dirt spoons”; fully 80% of them wish to leave the country. In this country, where exams are so important that office hours are shifted and airlines banned from flying on the day of the college entrance examination, tampering with the admissions process and gaming college entrance was the one inexcusable, irredeemable, intolerable sin. It put the lie to the ideology of meritocratic reward, and released the flutter of indignation that became the storm that burst the dam of outrage wide open. All bets were off after that.

Millions of protestors—not just workers and farmers shafted by Park’s vicious neoliberal labor restructuring, or grieving parents from the ferry disaster–but livid young students and their entire extended families took to the streets, demanding the immediate resignation and arrest of Choi, Park, and their sundry cohorts. This pressure led to the resignation of the president of the university responsible for the admission, then to the investigation of Samsung, and through widening ripples and waves into a full-scale investigation into bribery and influence-peddling across the board. It resulted finally in the impeachment of President Park in the national assembly, unavoidable after two and half million people took to the streets to demand her resignation and her approval ratings flat-lined to zero percent. Weeks after her impeachment, people still take to the streets, by the hundreds of thousands—800,000 by the latest count—braving Siberian winds and icy snow drifts, to shout themselves blue in the face demanding her immediate removal and arrest. Park is now cloistered in the Blue House, evading questioning, trying to run down the clock, as a caretaker Prime Minister runs the country, and the constitutional court decides on her final fate. Tragedy, then farce, is the manure-inflected flavor of this particular Korean drama. A kingdom, for a horse, no less, Gangnam style.

The Poet’s List

If someone opens my grave a few years after my death, they will find it full, not of my bones, but of poems written in that tomb’s darkness”

– Ko Un

Ko Un, the poet, is a survivor’s survivor. He survived decades of harassment, torture, imprisonment, much of it from the minions, instruments, or institutions of Kim Ki-choon; many of Kim Ki-choon’s victims did not. Ko Un also survived his own mental breakdown, his self-mutilation, and miraculously, his own suicide.

Like Han Kang’s protagonist in Human Acts, he stacked dead and dying bodies during war; prefiguring the maddened protagonist in Old Boy, he poured poison into his ears to drown out the never-ending screams in his head. He took vows as a Zen monk, but decades of meditation were an insignificant balm against the roar of darkness in his heart; he attempted suicide. The immolation of the sweatshop worker Chun Tae-il in the seventies, who set his body ablaze as a protest against the conditions of factory work, awoke him from his self-pitying torpor, and he became active in a cultural resistance. For this, he suffered dearly.

Ko-un states he survived the harsh darkness of that era, through the act of remembering and imagining; by writing and creating art:

Deprived of present time in that despair, the incompetent act of remembering alone served as a substitute for the present time. I began to realise that remembering and imagining something could be a source of strength, enabling me to endure day by day the darkness and the fear.

To survive all that, and to be blacklisted yet again in his sunset years, is a final, perverse tribute to the person referred to as “South Korea’s greatest living poet”. But with his usual Zen aplomb, Ko Un remarks that he is “honored to be on the list”.

Ko Un, also has been keeping a list of names, half as long as the blacklist, but one that took much longer to compile. It is the 30 volume poem, Maninbo (Myriad Lives), written to render homage to every human being he had encountered up to the eve of his impending death.

In this poem, there are 5600 people; the poems rendering them flesh and life took him 30 years to complete.

Because there is night, there should also be stars. Underneath the starlight, lives the history behind my poetry. The isolation cell in the military prison was a closed space without windows, measuring 3 feet by 4.5 feet…. I had decided what my final gesture would be when the time came for me to die…

He would render tribute, “through the insufficient act of remembering”–through poetry–to every human being he had ever encountered.

Rarely are the contrasts as clear, or the stakes as high. One, a list put together by the powerful to blacken, destroy, and erase lives and livelihoods.

The other, an epic act of attention, love, and remembrance, words stitched and cobbled together over a lifetime, to enliven, lift up, fathom care and render voice to life:

Ko Un’s list has survived so far, shimmering points of light against a dark sky.

Kim’s list may yet be consigned to the dust heap.

The Korean people have no doubt which one has to prevail. The winds of history may yet be on their side.

The Bloodletters

Bloodletting as a medical practice flourished for thousands of years before finally yielding to more “enlightened” medicine except in special circumstances. One of history’s ironies is that America’s first president, George Washington, a bloodthirsty warrior before and during his presidency, died arguably from bloodletters called in to his bedside to let out one-fourth of his blood.

This essay highlights two unparalleled groups of bloodletters in America’s 240 years of history — U.S. presidents and the captains of America’s industries. These two groups are part of the power elite of America’s corpocracy, the incestuous marriage between Government America and Corporate America, with the latter in charge. The power elite also include the chairs of relevant Congressional committees; key people in the shadow government (e.g. the CIA); the US Supreme Court (never ruling a war unconstitutional); and influential advisors and ideologues.

Besides being the vital fluid that courses through our bodies, “blood” serves as useful metaphors (as the one in the first paragraph about George Washington) that connote the diminishment or loss of what is valued by the victims and their loved ones.

The first purpose of this essay is to highlight the ways in which America’s power elite “let blood” literally and figuratively, with the metaphorical instances causing all sorts of human misery up to and including death. The second purpose is to underscore just who the real enemy of the American people is, America’s corpocracy and its power elite. The only reason the U.S. has foreign enemies is that the corpocracy creates them to sustain and grow its profits and power.

The essay begins with an overview of the greatest bloodletters, literally, of all time throughout the history of America, her presidents, and then overviews the bloodletting, figuratively and literally, by the captains of industry. The reason for picking the two at the top of their pecking orders is that any form of wrongdoing, bloody or not, is done under their leadership. They either authorize it explicitly, implicitly as in setting “wink and nod” expectations, or indirectly in creating and/or condoning an organizational culture of “anything goes.” The essay closes with a short explanation and prediction.

America’s Greatest Bloodletters: Her 42 Presidents

Three presidents don’t count. Two were in office too few months to send combatants and civilians in foreign lands to their graves. As for the new third it is too early to tell. All told, the 42 bloodletters have sent countless millions to their graves, maimed millions, devastated cities, villages, and historic sites, and done everything else imaginably and unimaginably atrocious. A conniving dishonest president sent 750,000 or so of his own countrymen to their graves. One president, who disingenuously and belatedly complained about the “military/industrial complex,” indirectly sent thousands to their graves to protect dictators and the likes of the United Fruit Company. One president is the only human being so far to ever have dropped nuclear bombs on two populous cities, not to win the war but to start a profitable Cold War with Russia. Two presidents committed treason in order to get elected and proceeded to send more than their share of people to their graves. The death toll in just one country from one president’s decisions was over one million. The most recent past president is the first so far to sit in the White House, pour over a hit list like a Mafia don, and decide who gets killed next by drone strikes, never mind that most of them are civilians, including children.

In Second Place: America’s Industries and their Captains

The industrial revolution swept away the cottage industry and ushered in corporations, an intrinsically dysfunctional, corrupting innovation and with them their captains, or CEOs, often bearing MBA credentials that alone predispose them to mismanagement and malfeasance of one form or another. It is pointless to name the captains. They come and go. The industries where they practice mostly stay unchangeable.

There are dozens of industries in America. The exact number is elusive because the counters disagree on what an industry means. That being said, industries vary in the scope and kind of their bloodletting, so it is possible to pick out the worst ones. But before doing that, let’s briefly consider the following victims of industry-wide bloodletting: the U.S. government; the environment; employees; and customers.

Victims of Industry-Wide Bloodletting

  1. The U.S. Government. It is Corporate America’s flunky, a revenue drain of misspending (the war budget) on behalf of the corpocracy, and a safety valve for mismanaged and errant corporations that would flounder and fail were it not for the U.S. government giving them myriad subsidies and overlooking and tolerating constant corporate wrongdoing of the illegal kind.
  1. The Environment. All human beings depend on the environment. Industries do too, on a wide scale, and they abuse the environment on a wide scale, polluting the air we breathe and the water we drink.
  1. Employees. Corporations have Human Resource Departments, but corporate employees are treated generally as disposable, not human, resources. Just ask Alice who wails in Dilbert, “I am not a resource!” Oh, but, yes, you are Alice, and so too are all real corporate employees except those in and close to the corner office, and, of course, they are not called “employees.” Unsafe and unhealthy working conditions topped by sweat shops; pittance compensation; reneged health benefit plans; emasculation of organized labor; and automation and outsourcing of jobs are the typical experiences of disposable employees.
  1. Customers. In fancy academic circles customers are theorized to be among corporations’ important stakeholders. If that is so, customers are barely holding on with excessive insurance and credit fees; and shoddy, unreliable, unsafe, and unhealthy products and services.

The Bloodiest Industries

They stand out like a bloody thumb. Rank them as you will. Here’s my ranking: hands down for first is the war and gun industry; second, the pharmaceutical industry; the food and agricultural industry; the health care industry; the banking industry; and lastly, the auto industry.

In Closing: An Explanation and a Prediction

U.S. presidents get away with bloody murder and more because the rest of the corpocracy wants regime changes in resource rich foreign lands, and the corpocracy gets away with bloody murder and more because it is the corpocracy.

Trained as a behavioral scientist (with apologies to the real physical sciences) to predict future human behavior I am going out on a limb to predict the future of Homo sapiens. It will probably not exist later this century. Our species has been a deplorably irresponsible ancestor of its descendants. And in modern times the blame rests mainly on America’s corpocracy and its power elite.

Trump, Moral Panics and Resistance

From the outset of Donald Trump’s campaign for the Presidency the infamous New York billionaire made it clear that the tactic of moral panic would be his chosen route to making it all the way to the White House. Like many politicians of the wealthy classes before him, threatening images of the “dangerous classes” were used wantonly to illustrate the common sense behind his ultra-conservative solutions to social and economic problems caused by fundamental disenfranchisement, inequality and poverty. Thus, the Trump campaign have treated us incessantly to scabrous descriptions of human beings who are supposedly arrayed against our innocent American sensibilities. They came thick and fast in the form of immigrant Mexican rapists, black urban gang bangers, Latino drug dealers and Muslim terrorists, among others. In each case, of course, it was always Donald the righteous who would save us from ourselves and thereby from these modern day “folk devils.”

Trump would not be the first Republican Presidential candidate to employ such tried and tested racialized “others” to reach the desired levels of fear and loathing among his supporters. Nixon in 1968 invoked the image of the “silent majority” encircled by rioting urban blacks and rampaging students, Reagan in 1976 used the specter of the black “welfare queen” to symbolize the “waste” of the entitlement system, George H. W. Bush in 1988 conjured the black rapist in the guise of Willie Horton to highlight the misplaced liberalism of his challenger Michael Dukakis, while George W. Bush appealed to the ongoing enemy of post-9/11 Islamic terrorism to shore up his inept time in office. But no one other than Trump has so brazenly, single-mindedly and arguably successfully used the moral panic strategy to advance his ambitions for public office.

Why then has this tactic of systematic lies, distortion and hyperbole gone from being so effective in the earlier stages of his presidential run now to be in tatters such that a journalist at Trump’s first solo press conference after just over three weeks in the job asked him, “Why should America trust you?” Meanwhile, as of writing, the renowned Pew Research Center announces that Trump’s approval ratings are once more at “historic lows” and hitting the 39 percent mark, in stark contrast to Obama who was getting 64 percent during the same time in his first presidency and even George W. Bush who was at 53 percent during his initial go at playing commander-in-chief.

To understand this turn of events it is important to consider how the pioneers of the concept saw the moral panic as a process with a life cycle and not at all as a “big lie” machine that was entirely sustainable. They all pointed out that the groups, persons or communities singled out by “right thinking people” through scapegoating and stereotypification reflected unresolved social anxieties produced by a social control system unable to base itself any longer on a moral consensus. They concurred that the more a regime depends on moral panics to govern the more it undermines its own legitimacy which is precisely what we are witnessing in the present White House melt-down. Such a regime through its addiction to its own rhetoric eventually sews the seeds of its own destruction.

Several British sociologists were at the forefront of this research. Stan Cohen, one of the first to coin the phrase while describing the media frenzy in the ‘60s over brawling English “mods and rockers” saw that it was youth’s embrace of hedonism and consumption undermining the message of disciplined work and restraint that was really at stake. Jock Young, who studied the public condemnation of “drug-takers” during the same period, concluded that the social interventions did more harm than the so-called “deviant” behavior (the U.S. War on Drugs is an ongoing example). Meanwhile, Stuart Hall described Margaret Thatcher’s discovery of young black “muggers” terrorizing English inner-cities as more about her commitment to be the virus that killed socialism and the global project of hyper-wealth concentration and inequality (what we now call “neo-liberalism”) than any concern over crime rates. Consequently, moral panics are never things in themselves no matter how self-serving. Further, they will always eventually motivate much larger sectors of society to question the legitimacy of both the diagnoses and policies that follow while encouraging new bonds of solidarity with those populations most targeted and vilified.

What we currently witness therefore is a moral panic process that instead of functioning as a unified narrative that constantly injects momentum into the various apparatuses of ideological production, pushing us ever closer to the practices of tyranny and dictatorial necessity, instead becomes the very object of our scorn and disbelief. This growing opposition to the cynical manipulation of our fears and vulnerabilities, whether real or imagined, in turn prompts us to envision a quite different world in which to resolve our social discontent and political unhappiness.

We see this with each Trumpian Punch and Judy show, a debilitating spectacle that has become both the form and essence of the Presidential regime. In response we, the people, recoil in disgust and amazement at the level to which our fellow human beings have debased themselves while we also begin to realize and accept the fallacy of our political fantasy, i.e., that we have been living in a world that pretentiously refers to itself as fundamentally democratic.

In other words, the dialectics of the moral panic now ensure that we not only participate in the death agony of what one Guardian writer describes as “a terrible mistake” but in the unraveling of society’s general fabric. It is not that the Emperor has no clothes but rather the whole neo-liberal project becomes revealed in all its stark naked ugliness along with the body politic that has enabled it. These are definitely new times. From where I sit the removal of Trump and his gaggle of know-nothings will only be the beginning as we enter a time when the future is truly up for grabs.