Array
-
English28/12/15Excerpt from the book “Workers' Councils”
The social system considered here might be called a form of communism, only that name, by the world-wide propaganda of the "Communist Party" is used for its system of State socialism under party dictatorship. But what is a name? Names are ever misused to fool the masses, the familiar sounds preventing them from critically using their brains and clearly recognizing reality. More expedient, therefore, than looking for the right name will it be to examine more closely the chief characteristic of the system, the council organization.
The Workers' Councils are the form of self-government which in the times to come will replace the forms of government of the old world. Of course not for all future; none such form is for eternity. When life and work in community are natural habit, when mankind entirely controls its own life, necessity gives way to freedom and the strict rules of justice established before dissolve into spontaneous behavior. Workers' councils are the form of organization during the transition period in which the working class is fighting for dominance, is destroying capitalism and is organizing social production. In order to know their true character it will be expedient to compare them with the existing forms of organization and government as fixed by custom as self-evident in the minds of the people.
Communities too large to assemble in one meeting always regulate their affairs by means of representatives, of delegates. So the burgesses of free medieval towns governed themselves by town councils, and the middle class of all modern countries, following the example of England, have their Parliaments. When speaking of management of affairs by chosen delegates we always think of parliaments; so it is with parliaments especially that we have to compare the workers' councils in order to discern their predominant features. It stands to reason that with the large differences between the classes and between their aims, also their representative bodies must be essentially different.
At once this difference strikes the eye: Workers' councils deal with labor, have to regulate production, whereas parliaments are political bodies, discussing and deciding laws and State affairs. Politics and economy, however, are not entirely unrelated fields. Under capitalism State and Parliament took the measures and enacted the laws needed for the smooth course of production; such as the providing for safety in traffic and dealings, for protection of commerce and industry, of business and travel at home and abroad, for administration of justice, for coinage and uniform weights and measures. And its political work, too, not at first sight connected with economic activity, dealt with general conditions in society, with the relations between the different classes, constituting the foundation of the system of production. So politics, the activity of Parliaments may, in a wider sense, be called an auxiliary for production.
What, then, under capitalism, is the distinction between politics and economy? They compare together as the general regulation compares with the actual practice. The task of politics is to establish the social and legal conditions under which productive work may run smoothly; the productive work itself is the task of the citizens. Thus there is a division of labor. The general regulations, though necessary foundations, constitute only a minor part of social activity, accessory to the work proper, and can be left to a minority of ruling politicians. The productive work itself, basis and content of social life, consists in the separate activities of numerous producers, completely filling their lives. The essential part of social activity is the personal task. If everybody takes care of his own business and performs his task well, society as a whole runs well. Now and then, at regular intervals, on the days of parliamentary election, the citizens have to pay attention to the general regulations. Only in times of social crisis, of fundamental decisions and severe contests, of civil strife and revolution, has the mass of the citizens had to devote their entire time and forces to these general regulations. Once the fundamentals decided, they could return to their private business and once more leave these general affairs to the minority of experts, to lawyers and politicians, to Parliament and Government.
Entirely different is the organization of common production by means of workers' councils. Social production is not divided up into a number of separate enterprises each the restricted life-task of one person or group; now it forms one connected entirety, object of care for the entirety of workers, occupying their minds as the common task of all. The general regulation is not an accessory matter, left to a small group of specialists; it is the principal matter, demanding the attention of all in conjunction. There is no separation between politics and economy as life activities of a body of specialists and of the bulk of producers. For the one community of producers politics and economy have now coalesced into the unity of general regulation and practical productive labor. Their entirety is the essential object for all.
This character is reflected in the practice of all proceedings. The councils are no politicians, no government. They are messengers, carrying and interchanging the opinions, the intentions, the will of the groups of workers. Not, indeed, as indifferent messenger boys passively carrying letters or messages of which they themselves know nothing. They took part in the discussions, they stood out as spirited spokesmen of the prevailing opinions. So now, as delegates of the group, they are not only able to defend them in the council meeting, but at the same time they are sufficiently unbiased to be accessible to other arguments and to report to their group opinions more largely adhered to. Thus they are the organs of social intercourse and discussion.
The practice of parliaments is exactly the contrary. Here the delegates have to decide without asking instructions from their voters, without binding mandate. Though the M.P., to keep their allegiance, may deign to speak to them and to expound his line of conduct, he does so as the master of his own deeds. He votes as honor and conscience dictate him, according to his own opinions. Of course; for he is the expert in politics, the specialist in legislative matters and cannot let himself be directed by instructions from ignorant people. Their task is production, private business, his task is politics, the general regulations. He has to be guided by high political principles and must not be influenced by the narrow selfishness of their private interests. In this way it is made possible that in democratic capitalism politicians, elected by a majority of workers, can serve the interests of the capitalist class.
In the labor movement also the principles of parliamentarism took a footing. In the mass organizations of the unions, or in such gigantic political organizations as the German Social-Democratic Party, the officials on the boards as a kind of government got power over the members, and their annual congresses assumed the character of parliaments. The leaders proudly called them so, parliaments of labor, to emphasize their importance; and critical observers pointed to the strife of factions, to the demagogy of leaders, and to the intrigue behind the scenes as indications of the same degeneration as appeared in the real parliaments. Indeed, they were parliaments in their fundamental character. Not in the beginning, when the unions were small, and devoted members did all the work themselves, mostly gratuitously. But with the increase of membership there came the same division of labor as in society at large. The working masses had to give all their attention to their separate personal interests, how to find and keep their job, the chief contents of their life and their mind; only in a most general way they had, moreover, to decide by vote over their common class and group interests. It was to the experts, the union officials and party leaders, who knew how to deal with capitalist bosses and State secretaries, that the detailed practice was left. And only a minority of local leaders was sufficiently acquainted with these general interests to be sent as delegates to the congresses, where notwithstanding the often binding mandates, they actually had to vote after their own judgment.
In the council organization the dominance of delegates over the constituents has disappeared because its basis, the division of labor, has disappeared. Now the social organization of labor compels every worker to give his entire attention to the common cause, the totality of production. The production of the necessaries for life as the basis of life, as before entirely occupies the mind. Not in the form, now, as care for the own enterprise, the own job, in competition with others. Life and production now can be secured only by collaboration, by collective work with the companions. So this collective work is uppermost in the thoughts of everybody. Consciousness of community is the background, the basis of all feeling and thinking.
This means a total revolution in the spiritual life of man. He has now learnt to see society, to know community. In former times, under capitalism, his view was concentrated on the small part related with his business, his job, himself and his family. This was imperative, for his life, his existence. As a dim, unknown background society hovered behind his small visible world. To be sure, he experienced its mighty forces that determined luck or failure as the outcome of his labor; but guided by religion he saw them as the working of supernatural Supreme Powers. Now, on the contrary, society comes into the full light, transparent and knowable; now the structure of the social process of labor lies open before man's eyes. Now his view is directed to the entirety of production; this is imperative, for his life, his existence. Social production is now the object of conscious regulation. Society is now a thing handled, manipulated by man, hence understood in its essential character. Thus the world of the workers' councils transforms the mind.
To parliamentarism, the political system of the separate business, the people were a multitude of separate persons; at the best, in democratic theory, each proclaimed to be endowed with the same natural rights. For the election of delegates they were grouped according to residence in constituencies. In the times of petty-capitalism a certain community of interests might be assumed for neighbors living in the same town or village. In later capitalism this assumption ever more became a fiction. Artisans, shopkeepers, capitalists, workers living in the same quarter of a town have different and opposed interests; they usually give their vote to different parties, and chance majorities win. Though parliamentary theory considers the man elected as the representative of the constituency, it is clear that all these voters do not belong together as a group that sends him as its delegate to represent its wishes.
Council organization, in this respect, is quite the contrary of parliamentarism. Here the natural groups, the collaborating workers, the personnels of the factories act as unities and designate their delegates. Because they have common interests and belong together in the praxis of daily life, they can send some of them as real representatives and spokesmen. Complete democracy is realized here by the equal rights of everyone who takes part in the work. Of course, whoever stands outside the work does not have a voice in its regulation. It cannot be deemed a lack of democracy that in this world of self-rule of the collaborating groups all that have no concern with the work—such as remained in plenty from capitalism: exploiters, parasites, rentiers—do not take part in the decisions.
Seventy years ago Marx pointed out that between the rule of capitalism and the final organization of a free humanity there will be a time of transition in which the working class is master of society but in which the bourgeoisie has not yet disappeared. He called this state of things the dictatorship of the proletariat. At that time this word had not yet the ominous sound of modern systems of despotism, nor could it be misused for the dictatorship of a ruling party, as in later Russia. It meant simply that the dominant power over society was transferred from the capitalist to the working class. Afterwards people, entirely confined within the ideas of parliamentarism, tried to materialize this conception by taking away the franchise for political bodies from the propertied classes. It is clear that, violating as it did the instinctive feeling of equal rights, it was in contrast to democracy. We see now that council organization puts into practice what Marx theoretically anticipated but for what at that time the practical form could not yet be imagined. When production is regulated by the producers themselves, the formerly exploiting class automatically is excluded from taking part in the decisions, without any artificial stipulation. Marx's conception of the dictatorship of the proletariat now appears to be identical with the labor democracy of council organization.
This labor democracy is entirely different from political democracy of the former social system. The so-called political democracy under capitalism was a mock democracy, an artful system conceived to mask the real domination of the people by a ruling minority. Council organization is a real democracy, the democracy of labor, making the working people master of their work. Under council organization political democracy has disappeared, because politics itself disappeared and gave way to social economy. The activity of the councils, put in action by the workers as the organs of collaboration, guided by perpetual study and strained attention to circumstances and needs, covers the entire field of society. All measures are taken in constant intercourse, by deliberation in the councils and discussion in the groups and the shops, by actions in the shops and decisions in the councils. What is done under such conditions could never be commanded from above and proclaimed by the will of a government. It proceeds from the common will of all concerned; because it is founded on the labor experience and knowledge of all, and because it deeply influences the life of all. Measures can be executed only in such a way that the masses put them into practice as their own resolve and will; foreign constraint cannot enforce them, simply because such a force is lacking. The councils are no government; not even the most central councils bear a governmental character. For they have no means to impose their will upon the masses; they have no organs of power. All social power is vested in the hands of the workers themselves. Wherever the use of power is needed, against disturbances or attacks upon the existing order, it proceeds from the collectivities of the workers in the shops and stands under their control.
Governments were necessary, during the entire period of civilization up to now, as instruments of the ruling class to keep down the exploited masses. They also assumed administrative functions in increasing measure; but their chief character as power structures was determined by the necessity of upholding class domination. Now that the necessity has vanished, the instrument, too, has disappeared. What remains is administration, one of the many kinds of work, the task of special kinds of workers; what comes in its stead, the life spirit of organization, is the constant deliberation of the workers, in common thinking attending to their common cause. What enforces the accomplishment of the decisions of the councils is their moral authority. But moral authority in such a society has a more stringent power than any command or constraint from a government.
When in the preceding time of governments over the people political power had to be conceded to the people and their parliaments a separation was made between the legislative and the executive part of government, sometimes completed by the judicial as a third independent power. Law-making was the task of parliaments, but the application, the execution, the daily governing was reserved to a small privileged group of rulers. In the labor community of the new society this distinction has disappeared. Deciding and performing are intimately connected; those who have to do the work have to decide, and what they decide in common they themselves have to execute in common. In the case of great masses, the councils are their organs of deciding. Where the executive task was entrusted to central bodies these must have the power of command, they must be governments; where the executive task falls to the masses themselves this character is lacking in the councils. Moreover, according to the varied problems and objects of regulation and decision, different persons in different combinations will be sent out and gather. In the field of production itself every plant has not only to organize carefully its own extensive range of activities, it has also to connect itself horizontally with similar enterprises, vertically with those who provide them with materials or use their products. In the mutual dependence and interconnection of enterprises, in their conjunction to branches of production, discussing and deciding councils will cover ever wider realms, up to the central organization of the entire production. On the other hand the organization of consumption, the distribution of all necessaries to the consumer, will need its own councils of delegates of all involved, and will have a more local or regional character.
Besides this organization of the material life of mankind there is the wide realm of cultural activities, and of those not directly productive which are of primary necessity for society, such as education of the children, or care for the health of all. Here the same principle holds, the principle of self-regulation of these fields of work by those who do the work. It seems altogether natural that in the care for universal health, as well as in the organization of education, all who take part actively, here the physicians, there the teachers, by means of their associations regulate and organize the entire service. Under capitalism, where they had to make a job and a living out of the human disease or out of drilling children, their connection with society at large had the form either of competitive business or of regulation and command by Government. In the new society, in consequence of the much more intimate connection of health with labor, and of education with labor, they will regulate their tasks in close touch and steady collaboration of their organs of intercourse, their councils, with the other workers' councils.
It must be remarked here that cultural life, the domain of arts and sciences; by its very nature is so intimately bound up with individual inclination and effort, that only the free initiative of people not pressed down by the weight of incessant toil can secure its flowering. This truth is not refuted by the fact that during the past centuries of class society princes and governments protected and directed arts and sciences, aiming of course to use them as utensils for their glory and the preservation of their domination. Generally speaking, there is a fundamental disparity for the cultural as well as for all the non-productive and productive activities, between organization imposed from above by a ruling body and organization by the free collaboration of colleagues and comrades. Centrally directed organization consists in regulation as much as possible uniform all over the realm; else it could not be surveyed and conducted from one centre. In the self-regulation by all concerned the initiative of numerous experts, all poring over their work, perfecting it by emulating, imitating, consulting each other in constant intercourse, must result in a rich diversity of ways and means. Dependent on the central command of a government, spiritual life must fall into dull monotony; inspired by the free spontaneity of massal human impulse it must unfold into brilliant variety. The council principle affords the possibility of finding the appropriate forms of organization.
Thus council organization weaves a variegated net of collaborating bodies through society, regulating its life and progress according to their own free initiative. And all that in the councils is discussed and decided draws its actual power from the understanding, the will, the action of working mankind itself.
This is chapter 7 of the book Workers' Councils (1941-42).
The Dutch edition was published as "De arbeidersraaden" by the Communistenbond Spartacus in Amsterdam in 1946 under the pseudonym P. Aartsz. The first English edition was published by J. A. Dawson in 1950.
Reprinted from the Marxists Internet Archive. Corrected by Paul Germanotta, April 2011.
Αρχές του 20ού αιώνα – Εργατικά Συμβούλια και Εργατικός Έλεγχος κατά τη διάρκεια Επαναστάσεων, Άντον Πάννεκουκ, Άμεση Δημοκρατία, Βιομηχανική Δημοκρατία, Πολιτικά Κόμματα & Εργατικός Έλεγχος, Εργατικά ΣυμβούλιαTopicΝαιΝαιNoΌχι -
Spanish28/12/15
La experiencia acumulada muestra que la transición al socialismo es mucho más que la nacionalización de las grandes empresas y que el desarrollo de medidas sociales avanzadas. Ciertamente, es otra cosa. Es un proceso complejo y largo durante el cual el pueblo trabajador va cercenando la dictadura del mercado, del valor de cambio, de la mercancía, y va desarrollando el valor de uso y la autogestión social generalizada. No podemos extendernos aquí en un debate prolijo sobre las formas de extinción de la ley del valor-trabajo y de extinción del dinero, y por tanto del mercado, en la sociedad socialista vasca. Ese uno de tantos debates colectivos que deben incluirse en los cursillos de formación teórico-política.
Sí podemos sintetizar cuatro grandes cuestiones imprescindibles que ya se pueden ir practicando dentro mismo del capitalismo realmente existente siempre que, primero, exista voluntad política para ello y, segundo, siempre que esa voluntad refleje la existencia de un poder popular impulsor de esas medidas y a la vez garante de su profundización.
Lo primero que hay que garantizar es que la extensión de la posibilidad del trabajo para toda la población en condiciones de trabajar sea, además de sin destruir otros trabajo, sobre todo ampliando yacimientos de trabajo social, de trabajo de ayuda y de apoyo, etc. La sociedad burguesa sólo genera el trabajo que el capitalismo necesita y destruye y abandona grandes yacimientos de trabajo socialmente útil pero que no pueden ser introducidos en la producción de valor y plusvalor, o que siéndolo generan poco beneficio. Por el contrario, un poder socialista puede y debe multiplicar exponencialmente las clases de trabajo socialmente útil precisamente porque son trabajos que no entran en la explotación o que rinden poco beneficio.
A la vez de la multiplicación de las posibilidades de trabajo, hay que garantizar la libre rotación de los puestos de trabajo, conservando el derecho al trabajo, pero viendo como normal que se cambie de un puesto a otro, en la misma zona de residencia. Para ello es necesaria una formación pluridimensional, multiproductiva y global, con un desarrollo impresionante de las tecnologías descentralizadas, blandas y horizontales, y con derechos claros de meses o años sabáticos, de ciclos de reciclaje, de reserva de puestos de trabajo tras una rotación voluntaria. Naturalmente, en esta concepción, el trabajo es un derecho pero también una necesidad, estando prohibido el despido.
Simultáneamente, mediante la permanente innovación tecnológica se premiará la reducción del tiempo de trabajo, potenciando la ampliación del tiempo libre y propio. Y dentro del tiempo de trabajo socialmente necesario, que deberá reducirse a lo estrictamente necesario, se aplicarán todos los derechos sociales, todas las medidas de higiene y seguridad en un sistema social tendente a primar la cualidad de vida colectiva sobre la acumulación privada individual de grandes fuerzas productivas. Naturalmente, el derecho de herencia quedará restringido a la media socialmente establecida según criterios democráticamente decididos respetando siempre el medioambiente y el carácter finito de los recursos energéticos.
Que se limite el derecho de herencia no quiere decir que se prohiba toda propiedad. De hecho la inmensa masa del pueblo trabajador no tiene otra "propiedad" que sus hipotecas, deudas y tarjetas de crédito, y algunos bienes de media duración en sus casas, exceptuando el coche. Nos referimos a la propiedad social de pequeños talleres, de ramas productivas con bajos beneficios, de propiedades comunales y municipales, etc. Estas propiedades sólo son viables sin existe la autogestión social y el cooperativismo de consumo, producción y ahorro. La autogestión deberá ir extendiéndose por entre el tejido social como garantía del control popular y de sus decisiones democrático-socialistas.
A la vez, el pueblo trabajador, la pequeña burguesía y sectores de la estructuralmente debilitada media burguesía, además de política y culturalmente derrotada, tendrá el derecho y la necesidad de potenciar múltiples colectivos de usuarios, de consumidores, de enfermos, de artistas, de deportistas, etc., que utilizando la libertad de prensa --en el sentido real del término y no del burgués-más los instrumentos político-institucionales existentes, intervengan mediante consultan concretas o generales, referéndum y debates-decisorios en la vida pública.
Lo segundo que hay que garantizar es la ágil dialéctica entre la creatividad de la autogestión social, y la necesaria planificación en cuestiones estratégicas. La experiencia histórica es aplastante en este sentido, y aconseja tener confianza en las iniciativas, en la creatividad y en la naturaleza solidaria y de cooperación del pueblo. Desde esta perspectiva, hay que planificar centralmente sólo los problemas estratégicos de vital subsistencia nacional, como la energía y materias primas vitales, las reservas alimenticias y de sanidad, la política financiera y económica relacionada con la defensa de los intereses de la independencia nacional, y, por no extendernos, la política defensiva en sus instrumentos fuertes, armando al pueblo en sus centros de vida y trabajo.
Lógicamente, para todo esto es requisito elemental que la democracia socialista sea lo más operativa y crítica posible. Sólo así se puede asegurar que se interrelaciones eficazmente los fondos sociales de inversión territorial, los fondos públicos específicos, la intervención de los bancos cooperativos y de los recursos de las empresas autogestionadas, y los presupuestos públicos del Estado obrero. Lubricar estos y otros niveles secundarios para que, por una parte, no surjan fricciones egoístas, corporativistas y de castas que acumulen privilegios y luego poder, primer paso para sus deseos posteriores en dar el salto contrarrevolucionario a constituirse una nueva burguesía renacida de sus cenizas; y, por otra parte, para
que no degenere todo ello en un caos incontrolable que termine implosionando, lograrlo, repetimos exige de la intervención rectora de la mayoría del pueblo.
Una medida necesaria para evitar que los técnicos y especialistas que tienden a sustituir al pueblo con sus conocimientos especializados, es la de instaurar los colectivos de contraespecialistas y contratécnicos, es decir, colectivos con superior formación técnica o al menos la misma, pero con una muy superior formación teórico-política. Estos colectivos militantes deben actuar estructuralmente dentro del pueblo trabajador, de sus organizaciones y deben elaborar contrainformes alternativos a los informes de los técnicos despolitizados, que desgraciadamente seguirán existiendo durante un tiempo.
De nuevo, aquí juegan especial papel las conquistas en la reducción drástica del tiempo de trabajo socialmente necesario y el aumento correspondiente del tiempo propio, libre; también de los poderes populares; también de los sistemas educativos y de reciclaje permanente y, en este sentido, de un sistema universitario cualitativamente superior. Dentro de toda esta red autogestionada de intervención del Trabajo, las nuevas tecnologías públicas, descentralizad y horizontales de la información son decisivas, como es obvio, porque permite a cualquier asociación de vecinos, por ejemplo, conocer de inmediato el estado de cuentas del ayuntamiento, y a cualquier persona acceder a la última información sobre los precios reales de las sardinas o del vino, que no de los precios ficticios.
Lo tercero que tenemos que garantizar es el control creciente del "socialismo de mercado", cuestión ya implícita en los puntos anteriores y que ya en este grado de avance al socialismo aparece como una necesidad imperiosa en la extinción paulatina y colectivamente consciente del mercado. Es cierto que durante un período histórico más o menos largo, habrá que torear al mercado, vigilando sus tropelías en la regulación de empresas privadas, y en algunas, que no todas, las transacciones internacionales.
Otra vez más, tenemos que volver a la contundente experiencia histórica y reafirmar los elementales principios de los clásicos marxistas, silenciados primero por la socialdemocracia y luego falsificados por el stalinismo. En el largo tránsito al socialismo, la potenciación de la cualidad de vida en base a la potenciación de valor de uso de los bienes producidos, que no sólo de las mercancías producidas, en este tránsito, el dinero debe ser rápidamente desmitificado, desinfectado y depurado de toda su esencia alienadora y convertido en un mal instrumento cada vez menos necesario. Esto no contradice la pervivencia durante un tiempo de la pequeña producción de bienes y equipos, pero no se debe decretar burocráticamente su drástica expropiación sino potenciar con medidas socialistas la demostración diaria de la superioridad del cooperativismo, de la autogestión, y de la eficacia del consejismo en las grandes empresas devueltas al pueblo mediante la comunalización de la propiedad.
Aquí tenemos que volver de nuevo a las sabias costumbres de "propiedad prestada" existentes en las comunidades antiguas, propietarias colectivas de los bienes decisivos y que "prestaban" rotativamente su uso a las comunidades más pequeñas, o a los sistemas familiares entonces existentes. Estas sabias y efectivas prácticas son perfectamente aplicables en la actualidad gracias, primero, a la enorme capacidad productiva existente, que reduce drásticamente le tiempo de trabajo necesario; segundo, gracias a las nuevas tecnologías de la información en una democracia socialista y, tercero, gracias precisamente al conocimiento práctico acumulado por el Trabajo en su larga lucha emancipadora.
Siguiendo con esta concepción, hay que desarrollar los sistemas de autoconsumo, autoproducción limpia y ecologista, de bricolaje, reciclaje, creatividad ahorradora, comercio justo, economía de trueque, potenciación de una nueva dialéctica de lo individual y de los colectivo, etc. Estas cosas pueden sonar a sueños imposibles, utópico y ucrónicos, pero solamente la más crasa ignorancia o la peor mala fe contrarrevolucionaria e inhumana pueden afirmar que no se pueden realizar porque nunca han existido en la práctica. Lo que nunca ha existido es la justicia dentro de una economía basada en la propiedad privada de los medios de producción y en la apropiación privada por una minoría del excedente colectivo producido por la explotación de la fuerza de trabajo de la mayoría.
Concluyendo, lo cuarto y último que tenemos que garantizar es que el pueblo desarrolle toda su enorme capacidad creativa polivalente, policroma y polifacética de multiplicar sus necesidades no reducibles a mercancías, a dinero y al mercado. Hay que abrir la creatividad colectiva al universo impactante por su belleza ética de lo cualitativo, de lo no reducible a relaciones monetarias. Todos los procesos emancipadores generan expectativas iniciales que confirman la posibilidad real de estos logros impresionantes.
Verdaderamente, ahora podemos decir bastante poco de esta capacidad humana porque es la más aplastada por la alienación capitalista. Pero todo se andará, y cuando hayamos llegado a esa fase sólo habremos entreabierto un poco la puerta que nos introduzca en la historia humana, en el comunismo, porque ahora estamos simplemente en la prehistoria.
Este texto froma parte del libro Cooperativismo obrero, consejismo y autogestión socialista: algunas lecciones para Euskal Herria, de Iñaki Gil de San Vicente, 2002.
Reproducido del archivo de Rebelión.
Iñaki Gil de San Vicente, Βιομηχανική Δημοκρατία, Εργατική Αυτοδιαχείριση, Εργατικά Συμβούλια, 21ος αιώνας – Εργατικός Έλεγχος στη Σύγχρονη Εποχή, Χώρα των Βάσκων, Iñaki Gil de San Vicente, Ισπανία, ΕυρώπηTopicΝαιΝαιCurrent DebateΌχι -
English28/12/15
The proletarian organization which assembles, as the total expression of the worker and peasant mass, in the central offices of the Confederazione del Lavoro, is passing through a constitutional crisis similar in nature to the crisis in which the democratic parliamentary state vainly debates. The solution of one will be the solution of the other, since, resolving the problem of the will of power in the case of their class organization, the workers will arrive at the creation of the organic scaffolding of their state and they will counterpose it victoriously to the parliamentary state.
The workers feel that the complex of “their” organization has become such an enormous apparatus, which has ended in obeying its own laws, intimate to its structure and to its complicated functioning, but extraneous to the mass which has acquired a consciousness of its historical mission as a revolutionary class. They feel that their will for power is not expressed, in a clear and precise sense, through the current institutional hierarchies. They feel that even at home, in the home they have tenaciously constructed, with patient efforts cementing it with blood and tears, the machine crushes the man, bureaucracy sterilizes the creator spirit and banal and verbalistic dilettantism attempt in vain to hide the absence of precise concepts on the necessities of industrial production and the lack of understanding of the psychology of the proletarian masses. The workers are irritated by these real conditions, but they are individually powerless to change them; the words and wills of individual men are too small a thing compared to the iron laws inherent in the structure of the union apparatus.
The leaders of the organization do not notice this deep and widespread crisis. The more it clearly appears that the working class is not organized in forms corresponding to its real historical structure, the more it happens that the working class is not lined up in a configuration which incessantly adapts itself to laws which govern the intimate process of real historical development of the class itself; the more these leaders persist in their blindness and force themselves to “juridically” settle dissent and conflicts. Eminently bureaucratic spirits, they believe that an objective condition, rooted in the psychology which is developed in the living experiences of the factory, can be overcome with a discourse which moves feelings, and with an order of the day unanimously voted in an assembly made ugly by hubbub and oratorical meanderings. Today they force themselves to “rise to the height of the times” and, as if to demonstrate that they are also capable of “hard thinking,” refashion the old and worn-out union ideologies, tediously insisting on relations of identity between the soviet and the union, tediously insisting on affirming that the present system of union organization constitutes the system of forces in which the dictatorship of the proletariat must be made flesh.
The union, in the form in which it presently exists in the countries of Western Europe, is a type of organization not only essentially different from the soviet, but different also, and in a notable way, from the union which is developing ever more in the red communist republic.
The trade unions, the Camere del Lavoro, the industrial federations, the Confederazione Generale del Lavoro, are the type of proletarian organization specific to the period of history dominated by capital. In a certain sense it can be maintained that it is an integral part of capitalist society, and it has a function which is inherent to the regime of private property. In this period, in which individuals have value in so far as they are owners of goods and trade in their property, workers have also had to obey the iron law of general necessity and have become merchants of their only property, labour power and professional intelligence. More exposed to the risks of competition, workers have accumulated their property in ever more vast and comprehensive “firms,” they have created this enormous apparatus of concentration of flesh and graft, they have imposed prices and hours and they have disciplined the market. They have assumed from outside or they have generated from within a trusted administrative personnel, expert in this kind of speculation, up to the job of dominating the conditions of the market, capable of stipulating contracts, of assessing commercial vagaries, of initiating economically useful operations. The essential nature of the union is competitive, it is not communist. The union cannot be an instrument of radical renewal of society: it can offer the proletariat knowledgeable bureaucrats, technical experts in industrial questions of general character, it cannot be the base of proletarian power. It offers no possibility of choosing individual proletarians capable and worthy of leading society, it cannot generate hierarchies which embody the vital thrust, the rhythm of progress of communist society.
The proletarian dictatorship can be made flesh in a type of organization which is specific to the particular activity of producers and not of wage-earners, slaves of capital. The factory council is the first cell of this organization. Since in the council all the branches of labour are represented, proportionally to the contribution each trade and each branch of labour makes to the development of the object which the factory produces for the collective, the institution is of a class, it is social. Its reason for being is in labour, is in industrial production, in a thus permanent state and not only in a salary, in the division of classes, in a thus transitory state and which is precisely to be overcome.
Thus the council realizes the unity of the labouring class, gives the masses a cohesion and a form which are of the same nature as the cohesion and form as the mass assumes in the general organization of society.
The factory council is the model of the proletarian state. All the problems which are inherent in the organization of the proletarian state are inherent in the organization of the council. In one and the other the concept of citizen decays, and the concept of comrade grows: collaboration to produce well and usefully develops solidarity, multiplies the links of affection and fraternity. Everyone is indispensable, everyone is at their post, and everyone has a function and a post. Even the most ignorant and backward of workers, even the most vain and “cultured” of engineers end convincing themselves of this truth in the organization of the factory: all finish by acquiring a communist consciousness to understand the great step forward which the communist economy represents over the capitalist economy. The council is the most suited organ of reciprocal education and of development of the new social spirit which the proletariat has managed to develop from the living and fertile experience of the community of labour. Worker solidarity which in the union developed in the struggle against capitalism, in suffering and sacrifice, in the council is positive, is permanent, is made flesh even in the most negligible of moments of industrial production, is contained in the glorious consciousness of being an organic whole, a homogeneous and compact system which working usefully, which disinterestedly producing social wealth, affirms its sovereignty, actuates its power and freedom to create history.
The existence of an organization, in which the labouring class is lined up in its homogeneity of a producing class, and which makes possible a spontaneous and free flowering of fitting and capable hierarchies and individuals, will have important and fundamental effects on the constitution and spirit which enliven activity of unions.
The factory council is also founded on trades. In each section the workers are separated by team and each team is a unit of labour (trade): the council is constituted precisely of commissars which the workers elect by section trade (team). But the union is based on the individual, the council is based on the organic and concrete unity of the trades which is developed in the discipline of the industrial process. The team (trade) feels distinct in the homogeneous body of the class, but in the same moment it feels engaged in the system of discipline and order which makes possible, with its exact and precise functioning, the development of production. As an economic and political interest the trade is united in solidarity with the body of the class; it is differentiated from it as a technical interest and as the development of the particular instrument which it adopts for labour. In the same way, all industries are homogeneous and solidaristic in the aim of realizing perfect production, distribution and social accumulation of wealth; but each industry has distinct interests regarding the technical organization of its specific activity.
The existence of the council gives workers the direct responsibility of production, it draws them to improving the work, instils a conscious and voluntary discipline, creates the psychology of the producer, of the creator of history. The workers bring into the union this new consciousness and from the simple activity of class struggle, the union dedicates itself to the fundamental work of impressing a new configuration upon economic life and the technique of labour, it dedicates itself to elaborating the form of economic life and professional technique which is proper to communist culture. In this sense the unions, which are constituted of the best and most conscious workers, actuate the supreme moment of the class struggle and of the dictatorship of the proletariat: they create the objective conditions in which classes can no longer exist nor be reborn.
In Russia, this is what the industrial unions do. They have become the organisms in which all the individual enterprises of a certain industry amalgamate, connect, act, forming a great industrial unity. Wasteful competition is eliminated, the great services of administration, of resupply, of distribution and of accumulation, are unified in large centres. The systems of work, the secrets of fabrication, the new applications immediately become common to the whole industry. The multiplicity of bureaucratic and disciplinary functions inherent to relations of private property and individual enterprise, is reduced to pure industrial necessities. The application of union principles to the textile industry has allowed in Russia a reduction of the bureaucracy from 100,000 employees to 3,500.
The organization by factory makes up the class (the whole class) in a homogeneous unit and which adheres plastically to the industrial process of production and dominates it to take ownership definitively. In the organization by factory is thus made flesh the proletarian dictatorship, the communist state which destroys the dominion of class in the political superstructures and in its general mechanisms.
The trade and industry unions are the solid vertebrae of the great proletarian body. They elaborate individual and local experiences, and they gather them, actuating that national equalizing of conditions of labour and of production on which is concretely based communist equality.
But because it is impossible to impress on the unions this positively class and communist direction it is necessary that the workers turn all their will and their faith to the consolidation and the diffusion of the councils, to the organic unification of the labouring class. On this homogeneous and solid foundation will flower and develop all the superior structures of the communist dictatorship and economy.
Originally published in L'Ordine Nuovo, 11 October 1919.
Translated by Michael Carley.
Reprinted from the Marxists Internet Archive.
Antonio Gramsci, Antonio Gramsci, Κοινωνικοί Αγώνες, Συνδικαλισμός, Εργατικά Συμβούλια, Κόκκινη Διετία 1919-1920, Ιταλία, ΕυρώπηTopicΝαιΝαιNoΌχι -
English28/12/15Human alienation will disappear through the withering away of commodity production and social division of labour, through the disappearance of private ownership of the means of production.
It was by studying Hegel that Marx first came across the concept of alienation. But, oddly enough, it was not the theory of alienated labour that he originally picked up from Hegel’s works. It was the alienation of man as a citizen in his relationship with the state that became the starting point of Marx’s philosophical, political and social thought.
The social contract theory maintained that in organised society the individual must forfeit a certain number of individual rights to the state as the representative of the collective interest of the community. Hegel especially had developed this idea which was so strongly enunciated by the theoreticians of the natural rights philosophy. That also served as the starting point of Marx’s critique of Hegel and his beginning as a critical social thinker in general.
Some small incidents which happened in the Rhine province of western Germany around 1842-43 (the increase in the number of people who stole wood and the intervention of the government against these people) led Marx to conclude that the state, which purports to represent the collective interest, instead represented the interests of only one part of the society, that is to say, those who own private property. Therefore the forfeiture of individual rights to that state represented a phenomenon of alienation: the loss of rights by people to institutions which were in reality hostile to them.
Starting from that political-philosophical platform, Marx, who in the meantime had been expelled from Germany and had gone into exile in France, got in contact with the first socialist and workers organisations there and began to study economics, especially the classical writers of British political economy, the Adam Smith-Ricardo school. This was the background for Marx’s first attempt in 1844 at a synthesis of philosophical and economic ideas in the so-called Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844, also called the Parisian Manuscripts. This was an attempt to integrate his ideas about labour in bourgeois society with ideas about the fate of man, man’s position in history, and his existence on earth.
This initial youthful attempt at synthesis was carried out with very inadequate means. At that period Marx did not yet have a thorough knowledge of political economy; he had only started to acquaint himself with some of the basic notions of the classical school in political economy; and he had little direct or indirect experience with the modern industrial system. He would obtain all that only during the next ten years.
This unfinished early work was unknown for a very long time. It was first published in 1932, nearly one hundred years after it was written. Accordingly, much of the discussion which had been going on in economic as well as philosophic circles, about what he thought in his youth and how he arrived at a certain number of his basic concepts, was very much distorted by an ignorance of this specific landmark in his intellectual development.
Immature as parts of it might seem and are, especially the economic part, it nevertheless represents a major turning point both in Marx’s intellectual development and in the intellectual history of mankind. Its importance, which I will try to explain, is linked with the concept of alienation.
Alienation is a very old idea which has religious origins and is almost as old as organised religion itself. It was taken over by nearly all the classical philosophical trends in the West as in the East. This concept turns around what one could call the tragic fate man. Hegel, who was one of the greatest German philosophers, took over the idea from his predecessors but gave it a new slant and a new basis which denoted momentous progress. He did this by changing the foundation of that concept of the tragic fate of man from a vague anthropological and philosophical concept into a concept rooted in labour.
Hegel, before Marx, said that man is alienated because human labour is alienated. He gave two explanations for this general alienation of human labour. One is what he called the dialectics of need and labour. Human needs, he said, are always one step ahead of the available economic resources; people will therefore always be condemned to work very hard to fulfil unsatisfied needs. However, the attempt to equalise the organisation of material resources with the necessity of satisfying all human needs is an impossible task, a goal which can never be attained. That was one aspect of what Hegel called alienated labour.
The other side of his philosophical analysis was a bit more complicated. It is summarised in a difficult word, the word “externalisation” (Entäusserung). Though the term is complicated and sounds foreign, its content is easier to understand. Hegel meant by the philosophical concept of externalisation the fact that every man who works, who produces something, really reproduces in his work an idea which he initially had in his head. Some of you might be astonished if I immediately add that Marx shared that opinion. You will find this same idea, that any work which man performs lives in his head before being realised in material reality, in the first chapter of Capital. Hegel, as well as Marx, thereby drew a basic distinction between people and, let us say, ants or other creatures which seem to be busily at work but do things purely on instinct. Man, on the other hand, first develops an idea about what he aims to do, and then tries to realise that idea.
Hegel goes a step farther when he asks, what do we do in reality when we try to express in material, what first lives in us as an idea? We inevitably separate ourselves from the product of our labour. Anything which we project out of ourselves, anything which we fabricate, anything which we produce, we project out of our own body and it becomes separate from us. It cannot remain as much part and parcel of our being as an idea which continues to live in our head. That was for Hegel the main, let us say, anthropological, definition of alienated labour. He therefore arrived at the conclusion that every and any kind of labour is alienated labour because in any society and under any conditions men will always be condemned to become separated from the products of their labour.
When Marx takes up these two definitions of alienated labour given by Hegel, he contradicts both of them. He says that the discrepancy between needs and material resources, the tension between needs and labour, is a limited one, conditioned by history. It is not true that man’s needs can develop in an unlimited way or that the output of his collective labour will always remain inferior to these needs. He denies this most emphatically on the basis of a historical analysis. He especially rejects Hegel’s idealistic identification of externalisation with alienation. Marx says that when we separate ourselves from the product of our labour it does not necessarily follow that the product of our labour then oppresses us or that any material forces whatsoever turn against men. Such alienation is not the result of the projection of things out of our body as such, which first live in us as ideas and then take on a material existence as objects, as products of our labour.
Alienation results from a certain form of organisation of society. More concretely, only in a society which is based on commodity production and only under the specific economic and social circumstances of a market economy, can the objects which we project out of us when we produce acquire a socially oppressive existence of their own and be integrated in an economic and social mechanism which becomes oppressive and exploitative of human beings.
The tremendous advance in human thought which I referred to in this critique of Hegel consists in the fact that Marx rejects the idea of the alienation of labour as being an anthropological characteristic, that is, an inherent and ineradicable curse of mankind. He says that the alienation of labour is not bound to human existence in all places and for all future time. It is a specific result of specific forms of social and economic organisation. In other words, Marx transforms Hegel’s notion of alienated labour from an eternal anthropological notion into a transitory historical notion.
This reinterpretation carries a message of hope for humanity. Marx says that humanity is not condemned to live “by the sweat of its brow” under alienated conditions throughout its whole term on earth. It can become free, its labour can become free, it is capable of self-emancipation, though only under specific historical conditions. Later I will define what specific social and economic conditions are required for the disappearance of alienated labour.
Let us now pass from the first systematic exposition of his theory of alienation in the Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844 to his main work, Capital, which was published over twenty years later. It is true that the word alienation hardly appears there.
A new profession has sprung up in the last thirty years which is called “Marxology”. Its practitioners read through the works of Marx and put on small index cards all the words he uses in his books and then try to draw some conclusions about his thought from their philological statistics. Some people have even used computers in this type of formal analysis. These “Marx-philologists” have so far discovered six places in Capital where the word “alienation” is used either as a noun or as a verb. I certainly will not dispute that colossal discovery though somebody may find a seventh spot or there could be some dispute about the sixth one.
On the basis of such an analysis of Capital, done in a purely verbal and superficial way, it could be concluded that the mature Marx did not have a real theory of alienation. Marx would then have discarded it after his youth, after his immature development, especially when, around 1856-57, he became thoroughly convinced of the correctness of the labour theory of value and perfected that labour theory of value himself.
When the Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844 were published for the first time in 1932, a big controversy arose around these issues. At least three trends can be distinguished in the debate. I will not cite the names of all the authors who have participated in it since more than a hundred people have written on the subject and the controversy is far from having ended. Some said there is a contradiction between the youthful and the mature works and Marx abandoned his original theories when his own views were fully developed.
Others said the opposite. The real Marx is to be found in the youthful works and he later degenerated by restricting the scope of his understanding to purely economic problems. He thus fell victim to the deviation of economism.
Still other people tried to deny that Marx’s ideas underwent any significant or substantial evolution whatsoever. Among these are the American Erich Fromm, the French Marxist scholar Maximilien Rubel, and two French Catholic priests, Fathers Bigo and Calvez. They maintain that the same ideas are contained in his early as in his later works.
I think all three of these opinions are wrong. There was an important evolution, not an identical repetition, in Marx’s thought from decade to decade. Any person who thinks, and continues to think and live, will not say exactly the same thing when he is 60 as when he was 25. Even if it is conceded that the basic concepts remain the same, there is obviously some progress, some change. In this concrete case the evolution is all the more striking, as I said before, because the Marx of 1844 had not yet accepted the labour theory of value which is a cornerstone of the economic theory he developed ten or fifteen years later.
One of the pivotal questions in this continuing debate is whether the mature Marx held a theory of alienation or whether he altogether abandoned his original theory of alienation. This dispute, which can be resolved on a documentary basis, would not have gone on so long and inconclusively if it had not been for another unfortunate accident.
It happened that another major work of Marx, Grundrisse der Kritik der Politischen Ökonomie (Fundamental Outlines of a Critique of Political Economy), a thirteen-hundred-page work written in 1857-58, which is a kind of laboratory where all the major ideas of Capital were first elaborated and tested, was also not published until a century after it was written. Its first publication occurred at the beginning of the Second World War in Russia, but most of the copies were destroyed as a result of the war. I believe only two copies arrived in the United States and none were available in Western Europe. The Russians under Stalin were not eager to reproduce it a second time. Thus it was not until the 1950s, almost a century after it had been originally written, that the book was reprinted and became known to a certain number of experts in a few countries.
Unfortunately, only in the last year have portions of this major work of Marx been translated into English. It appeared in French only a short time ago. So some of the participants in this dispute did have the excuse that they did not know that key work. For anybody who reads it can at once see that a Marxist theory of alienation exists because in the Grundrisse the word, the concept, and the analysis appear dozens and dozens of times.
What then is this theory of alienation as it was developed by the mature Marx, not by the young Marx? And how can we relate it to what is set down in Capital? There is first a purely formal difficulty here because Marx uses three different terms in this connection and he uses them in an interchangeable manner. One is the concept of alienation; another is the concept of reification, a complicated word; and a third is the concept of commodity fetishism, which is still more complicated. However, these three concepts are not so difficult to explain, and I will try to clarify their meaning for you.
Let us start this analysis with a definition of economic alienation. I must immediately state that in the comprehensive Marxist theory of alienation, economic alienation is only one part of a much more general phenomenon which covers practically all fields of human activity in class society. But it is the most decisive element. So let’s start from economic alienation. We will approach it in successive stages. The first and most striking feature of economic alienation is the separation of people from free access to the means of production and means of subsistence. This is a rather recent development in human history. As late as the nineteenth century free access to the means of production in agriculture survived in some countries of the world, among others, in the United States and Canada. Until after the American Civil War it was not impossible for masses of people to find some unpreempted spot of land and to establish themselves on that acreage as free farmers, as homesteaders. In Europe that possibility had ceased to exist for two hundred years, and in some countries there even three or four hundred years earlier.
That historical factor is the starting point for any theory of alienation because the institution of wage labour in which people are forced to sell their labour power to another person, to their employer, can come into existence on a large scale only when and where free access to the means of production and subsistence is denied to an important part of society. Thus the first precondition for the alienation of labour occurs when labour becomes separated from the basic means of production and subsistence.
I said this is a relatively new phenomenon. A second example may illuminate this more sharply. The classical historical criticism made by liberal thought in the nineteenth century about the society of the middle ages, feudal society, was the lack of freedom of the cultivators of the soil. I won’t take exception to that criticism which I think was correct. The direct producers in that society, the peasants and serfs, were not free people. They could not move about freely; they were tied to the land.
But what the bourgeois liberal critics of feudal society forgot was that tying people to the land was a two-sided phenomenon. If a person was tied to the land, the land was also tied to the person. And because the land was tied to the person there wasn’t any important part of the people living within feudal relations who could be forced to become wage labourers and sell their labour power to owners of capital. They had access to the land, they could produce their own means of subsistence and keep part of it for themselves. Only people outside organised feudal society, in reality outlaws, because that is what they were originally, could become the starting point for new social classes – wage labourers on the one hand, merchants on the other.
The second stage in the alienation of labour came about when part of society was driven off the land, no longer had access to the means of production and means of subsistence, and, in order to survive, was forced to sell its labour power on the market. That is the main characteristic of alienated labour. In the economic field it is the institution of wage labour, the economic obligation of people who cannot otherwise survive to sell the only commodity they possess, their labour power, on the labour market.
What does it mean to sell your labour power to a boss? In Marx’s analysis, both in his youthful and his mature work, behind this purely formal and legal contractual relation – you sell your labour power, part of your time, to another for money to live on – is in reality something of deep-going consequence for all human existence and particularly for the life of the wage labourer. It first of all implies that you lose control over a large part of your waking hours. All the time which you have sold to the employer belongs to him, not to you. You are not free to do what you want at work. It is the employer who dictates what you will and will not do during this whole time. He will dictate what you produce, how you produce it, where you produce it. He will be master over your activity.
And the more the productivity of labour increases and the shorter the workweek becomes, the stricter will be the control of the employer over every hour of your time as a wage labourer. In time and motion studies – the ultimate and most perfected form of this control – the boss even tries to control every second, literally every second, of the time which you spend in his employ.
Alienation thereupon acquires a third form. When a wage earner has sold his labour power for a certain part of his life to his employer, the products of his labour are not his own. The products of his labour become the property of the employer.
The fact that the modern wage earner owns none of the products of his own labour, obvious as it may appear to people who are accustomed to bourgeois society, is not at all so self-evident from the viewpoint of human history as a whole. It was not like that for thousands upon thousands of years of human existence. Both the medieval handicraftsman and the handicraftsman of antiquity were the proprietors of their own products. The peasant, and even the serf of the middle ages, remained in possession of at least 50 per cent, sometimes 60 and 70 per cent, of the output of their own labour.
Under capitalism not only does the wage earner lose possession of the product of his labour, but these products can function in a hostile and injurious manner against him. This happened with the machine. This remarkable product of human ingenuity becomes a source of tyranny against the worker when the worker serves as an appendage of the machine and is forced to adapt the cadence of his life and work to the operation of the machine. This can become a serious source of alienation in shift work when part of the working class has to work during the night or at odd hours in conflict with the normal rhythm of human life between day and night. Such an abnormal schedule causes all sorts of psychological and nervous disorders.
Another aspect of the oppressive nature which the products of labour can acquire once society is divided into hostile classes of capitalists and wage workers are the crises of overproduction, depressions or, as it is nowadays more prudently put, recessions. Then people consume less because they produce too much. And they consume less, not because their labour is inadequately productive, but because their labour is too productive.
We come now to a final form of alienated labour in the economic field which derives from the conclusions of the points I have noted. The alienation of the worker and his labour means that something basic has changed in the life of the worker. What is it? Normally everybody has some creative capacity, certain talents lodged in him, untapped potentialities for human development which should be expressed in his labour activity.
However, once the institution of wage labour is prevalent, these possibilities become nullified. Work is no longer a means of self-expression for anybody who sells his labour time. Work is just a means to attain a goal. And that goal is to get money, some income to be able to buy the consumer goods necessary to satisfy your needs.
In this way a basic aspect of human nature, the capacity to perform creative work, becomes thwarted and distorted. Work becomes something which is not creative and productive for human beings but something which is harmful and destructive. Catholic priests and Protestant pastors who have worked in factories in Western Europe, the so-called “worker-priests”, who have written books about their experiences, have arrived at conclusions on this point that are absolutely identical with those of Marxism. They declare that a wage earner considers the hours passed in factories or in offices as time lost from his life. He must spend time there in order to get freedom and capacity for human development outside the sphere of production and of work.
Ironically, this hope for fulfilment during leisure time turns out to be an illusion. Many humanitarian and philanthropic reformers of liberal or social-democratic persuasion in the nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth centuries thought that men could become liberated when their leisure time would increase. They did not understand that the nature of leisure was likewise determined by the nature of wage labour and by the conditions of a society based on commodity production and wage labour.
Once socially necessary labour time became shorter and leisure time greater, a commercialisation of leisure took place. The capitalist society of commodity production, the so-called “consumer society” did its utmost to integrate leisure time into the totality of economic phenomena at the basis of commodity production, exploitation and accumulation.
At this point the notion of alienation is extended from a purely economic to a broader social phenomenon. The first bridge to this wider application is the concept of alienation of the consumer. Thus far we have spoken only about the consequences of alienated labour. But one of the cardinal characteristics of capitalist society, as Marx understood as early as 1844, is its built-in contradiction regarding human needs. On the one hand, each capitalist entrepreneur tries to limit the human needs of his own wage earners as much as possible by paying as little wages as possible. Otherwise he would not make enough profit to accumulate.
On the other hand, each capitalist sees in the work force of all the other capitalists not wage earners but potential consumers. He would therefore like to expand the capacity of consumption of these other wage earners to the limit or otherwise he cannot increase production and sell what his own workers produce. Thus capitalism has a tendency to constantly extend the needs of people.
Up to a certain point this expansion can cover genuine human needs, such as the elementary requirements of feeding, housing and clothing everybody in more or less decent circumstances. Very quickly, however, capitalism in its efforts to commercialise everything and sell as many gadgets as possible, goes beyond any rational human needs and starts to spur and stimulate artificial needs in a systematic, large-scale manner. Some of these are absurd and grotesque. Let me give one example. An American author, Jessica Mitford, has written an amusing book, called The American Way of Death. It describes the practices of morticians who seek to induce people to buy more expensive coffins so that the beloved dead can rest not only peacefully, but lightly, on foam mattresses. The sales pitchmen say this satisfies, not the corpse, but the feelings of the consumer.
Is it necessary to observe that no real need is involved in this grotesque attempt of the burial business to make money? It is scandalous to feed in this mercenary manner upon the feelings of grief of people who have lost members of their family.
Such alienation is no longer purely economic but has become social and psychological in nature. For what is the motivation of a system for constantly extending needs beyond the limits of what is rational? It is to create, purposely and deliberately, permanent and meretricious dissatisfactions in human beings. Capitalism would cease to exist if people were fully and healthily satisfied. The system must provoke continued artificial dissatisfaction in human beings because without that dissatisfaction the sales of new gadgets which are more and more divorced from genuine human needs cannot be increased.
A society which is turned toward creating systematic frustration of this kind generates the bad results recorded in the crime pages of the daily newspapers. A society which breeds worthless dissatisfaction will also breed all kinds of antisocial attempts to overcome this dissatisfaction.
Beyond this alienation of human beings as consumers, there are two very important aspects of alienation. One is the alienation of human activity in general. The other is the alienation of human beings in one of their most fundamental features, the capacity to communicate.
What is meant by the extension of the concept of alienation to human activity in general? We live in a society based on commodity production and a social division of labour pushed to the limits of overspecialisation. As a result, people in a particular job or doing a certain type of activity for a living will incline to have an extremely narrow horizon. They will be prisoners of their trade, seeing only the problems and preoccupations of their specially. They will also tend to have a restricted social and political awareness because of this limitation.
Along with this shut-in horizon will go something which is much worse, the tendency to transform relations between human beings into relations between things. This is that famous tendency toward “reification”, the transformation of social relations into things, into objects, of which Marx speaks in Capital.
This way of looking at phenomena is an extension of this theory of alienation. Here is an example of this transformation which I witnessed the other day in this country. The waiters and waitresses in restaurants are poor working people who are the victims and not the authors of this process of reification. They are even unaware of the nature of their involvement in this phenomenon. While they are under heavy pressure to serve the maximum number of customers on the job imposed upon them by the system and its owners, they look upon the customers solely under the form of the orders they put in. I heard one waitress address herself to a person and say, “Ah, you are the corned-beef and cabbage”. You are not Mr. or Mrs. Brown, not a person of a certain age and with a certain address. You are “corned-beef and cabbage” because the waitress has on her mind the orders taken under stress from so many people.
This habit of reification is not the fault of the inhumanity or insensitivity of the workers. It results from a certain type of human relation rooted in commodity production and its extreme division of labour where people engaged in one trade tend to see their fellows only as customers or through the lenses of whatever economic relations they have with them.
This outlook finds expression in everyday language. I have been told that in the city of Osaka, the main commercial and industrial capital of Japan, the common mode of addressing people when you meet is not “How do you do?” but “How is business?” or “Are you making money?” This signifies that bourgeois economic relations have so completely pervaded ordinary human relations as to dehumanise them to an appreciable extent.
I now come to the ultimate and most tragic form of alienation, which is alienation of the capacity to communicate. The capacity to communicate has become the most fundamental attribute of man, of his quality as a human being. Without communication, there can be no organised society because without communication, there is no language, and without language, there is no intelligence. Capitalist society, class society, commodity-producing society tends to thwart, divert and partially destroy this basic human capacity.
Let me give three examples of this process at three different levels, starting with a most commonplace case. How do people learn to communicate? While they are infants they go through what psychologists call a process of socialisation and learn to speak. For a long time one of the main methods of socialising young children has been through playing with dolls. When children play with dolls, they duplicate themselves, project themselves outside their own individuality, and carry on a dialogue with that other self. They speak two languages, their own language and the language of the doll, thereby bringing into play an artificial process of communication which, through its spontaneous nature, facilitates the development of language and intelligence.
Recently, industry started to produce dolls which speak. This is supposed to be a mark of progress. But once the doll speaks, the dialogue is limited. The child no longer speaks in two languages, or with the same spontaneity. Part of its speech is induced, and induced by some capitalist corporation.
That corporation may have hired the biggest educators and psychologists who make the doll speak more perfectly than any of the babble which could come out of the child’s mind itself – although I have some doubts on that subject. Nevertheless, the spontaneous nature of the dialogue is partially thwarted, suppressed or detoured. There is less development of dialogue, of capacity for communication, and therefore a lesser formation of intelligence than in more backward times when dolls did not speak and children had to give them a language of their own.
A second example is taken from a more sophisticated level. Any class society which is divided by social-material interests and in which class struggle goes on suppresses to a certain extent the capacity for communication between people standing on different sides of the barricades. This is not a matter of lack of intelligence, of understanding or honesty, from any individual point of view. This is simply the effect of the inhibitive pressures that substantial divisive material interests exercise on any group of individuals.
Anybody who has ever been present at wage bargaining where there is severe tension between workers’ and employers’ representatives – I’m talking about real wage bargaining, not sham wage bargaining – will understand what I am referring to. The employers’ side simply cannot sympathise with or understand what the workers are talking about even if they have the utmost good will and liberal opinions, because their material-social interests prevent them from understanding what the other side is most concerned with.
There was a very striking example of this inhibition on another level (because workers and not employers were involved) in the tragic strike of the United Federation of Teachers in New York in 1968 against the decentralisation of control over the school system. People of bad will, fools or stupid people were not so much involved. Indeed, most of them would have been called liberal or even left some time ago. But through very strong pressures of social interest and social milieu, they were simply incapable of understanding what the other side, the Black and Puerto Rican masses who wanted community control over the education of their children, was talking about.
Thus the Marxist notion of alienation extends far beyond the oppressed classes of society, properly speaking. The oppressors are also alienated from part of their human capacity through their inability to communicate on a human basis with the majority of society. And this divorcement is inevitable as long as class society and its deep differentiations exist.
Another terrible expression of this alienation on the individual scale is the tremendous loneliness which a society based on commodity production and division of labour inevitably induces in many human beings. Ours is a society based on the principle, every man for himself. Individualism pushed to the extreme also means loneliness pushed to the extreme.
It is simply not true, as certain existentialist philosophers contend, that man has always been an essentially lonely human being. There have been forms of integrated collective life in primitive society where the very notion of loneliness could not arise. It arises out of commodity production and division of labour only at a certain stage of human development in bourgeois society. And then unfortunately it acquires a tremendous extension which can go beyond the limits of mental health.
Psychologists have gone around with tape recorders and listened to certain types of dialogues between people in shops or on the street. When they play these dialogues afterwards they discover that there has been no exchange whatsoever. The two people have talked along parallel lines without once meeting with each other. Each talks because he welcomes the occasion to unburden himself, to get out of his loneliness, but he is incapable of listening to what the other person is saying.
The only meeting place is at the end of the dialogue when they say goodbye. Even that farewell is saddening because they want to save the possibility of unburdening themselves of their loneliness the next time they meet. They carry on what the French call dialogue de sounds, dialogues between deaf people, that is, dialogues between people who are incapable of understanding or listening to other people.
This is of course an extreme and marginal illustration. Happily, the majority of members of our society are not yet in that situation or otherwise we would be on the brink of a complete breakdown of social relations. Nonetheless, capitalism tends to extend the zone of this extreme loneliness with all its terrible implications.
This looks like a very dim picture, and the dim picture undoubtedly corresponds to the dim reality of our times. If the curve of mental sickness has climbed parallel with the curve of material wealth and income in most of the advanced countries of the West, this dismal picture has not been invented by Marxist critics but corresponds to very deep-rooted aspects of the social and economic reality in which we live.
But, as I said before, this grim situation is not at all without hope. Our optimism comes from the fact that, after all this analysis of the roots of the alienation of labour and the specific expressions of the alienation of man in bourgeois society is completed, there emerges the inescapable conclusion that a society can be envisaged in which there will be no more alienation of labour and alienation of human beings. This is a historically produced and man-made evil, not an evil rooted in nature or human nature. Like everything else which has been made by man, it can also be unmade by man. This condition is a product of history and it can be destroyed by history or at least gradually overcome by further progress.
Thus the Marxist theory of alienation implies and contains a theory of disalienation through the creation of conditions for the gradual disappearance and eventual abolition of alienation. I stress “gradual disappearance” because such a process or institution can no more be abolished by fiat or a stroke of the pen than commodity production, the state, or the division of society into classes can be eliminated by a government decree or proclamation.
Marxists understand that the social and economic preconditions for a gradual disappearance of alienation can be brought about only in a classless society ushered in by a world socialist revolution. And when I say a classless socialist society, I obviously do not mean the societies which exist in the Soviet Union, Eastern Europe or China. In the best cases these are transitional societies somewhere halfway between capitalism and socialism. Though private property has been abolished, they have not yet abolished the division of society into classes, they still have different social classes and different social layers, division of labour and commodity production. As a consequence of these conditions, they still have alienated labour and alienated men.
The prerequisites for the disappearance of human alienation, of alienated labour and the alienated activities of human beings, can only be created precisely through the continuation of those processes I have just named: the withering away of commodity production, the disappearance of economic scarcity, the withering away of social division of labour through the disappearance of private ownership of the means of production and the elimination of the difference between manual and intellectual labour, between producers and administrators. All of this would bring about the slow transformation of the very nature of labour from a coercive necessity in order to get money, income and means of consumption into a voluntary occupation that people want to do because it covers their own internal needs and expresses their talents. This transformation of labour into all-sided creative human activity is the ultimate goal of socialism. Only when that is attained will alienated labour and all its pernicious consequences cease to exist.
Originally The Marxist theory of alienation, International Socialist Review, No.31, 1970 (3), pp.19-23, 49-50.
Reprinted from The Mandel Archive.
1960-2000 – Εργατικός 'Ελεγχος ενάντια στην Καπιταλιστική Αναδιάρθρωση, Ernest Mandel, Εργασιακή Διαδικασία, Κοινωνικά Ωφέλιμη Παραγωγή, Ernest MandelTopicΝαιΝαιCurrent DebateΌχι -
English28/12/15A review by Chris Kane of the book 'Building the new common sense: Social ownership for the 21st century'
The publication of Social ownership for the 21st century by the Labour Representation Committee on behalf of the Left Economics Advisory Panel is a significant development. For the first time in nearly three decades an important section of the labour movement is at last developing a discussion on the questions of forms of social ownership, workers’ control and workers’ self-management. The Tragedy of the historical moment is that at a time when the inadequacy of capitalist society is so glaringly apparent, there is a lack of confidence in the viability of an alternative society fit for humanity. Amidst all the declarations that ‘another world is possible’ the traditional left has failed to conceptualise what that other world means. Without developing an idea of what we want to replace capitalism with, the struggle of the labour movement is trapped in a spiral of fighting to ameliorate the conditions of life within capitalism. In that regard this series of seven articles is a breath of fresh air in the arid plains of English socialism.
The fact there has been no serious discussion of these matters since the upsurge of working class struggle in the 1970s means that a lot of the lessons to be learnt from that period still remain to be worked out. That is apparent in this pamphlet, for many of the old ambiguities clearly remain to be cleared up. This is especially important in light of ideas of Social Partnership which are the official policy of the TUC and have had a corrosive effect in the labour movement.
Within the context of the British labour movement industrial democracy/workers’ control has become popularly defined as meaning several things, such as:
1 : Greater consultation – where management retains the final decision-making rights, but workers have direct input to the decision-making process, exercising greater influence beyond the set parameters of collective bargaining.
2 : Worker participation – where management and workers jointly participate in the decision-making process, the workers’ representatives having parity with the management and shareholders.
3 : Full workers’ control – where workers take over the responsibility of management and hold exclusive decision-making rights, overall control being the responsibility of workers’ representatives, elected from and by those working in the industry.
Clearly industrial democracy/workers’ control cannot be all these things. Clarity is therefore necessary if we are to develop the struggle for workers’ self-government in the 21st century. During the discussions on industrial democracy in the 1960s and 1970s these ambiguities were being ironed out, it was however an unfinished debate. We believe it is necessary to overcome these ambiguities: in light of historical experience it would more helpful to make a clear distinction between forms of workers’ control and workers’ self-management, these can be broadly defined as:
1 : Workers’ control – whose variants stretch from a lower range – with the extension of the scope of collective bargaining and increased influence over the labour process and erosion of the managerial prerogatives – to a higher range, with wide-scale involvement of the workers in actual decision-making. Whilst preserving the distinction between the workers’ representatives and the management, this would mean in its highest level a form of dual-management in the workplace.
2 : Workers’ self-management – the workers would have total control: managers as such would be abolished, and management would be eliminated as a function separate from the workers themselves. It would be a system of direct democracy: everyone would participate in the decision making and the workplace would take on a communal form, collectively run at the various levels.
The relationship between workers’ control and workers’ self-management is that of a process of struggle to realise the forms of workers’ self-management latent in capitalism today, which can be developed in the fight to extend forms of workers’ control into workers’ self-management. The new pamphlet by LEAP opens the discussion again on these issues and rightly links it to the question of social ownership and seeks to put the questions back on the political agenda.
Gregor Gall opens the discussion with his essay The case for industrial and economic democracy, pointing out that there is a “democratic deficit” in British society. “While there are some limited forms of political democracy through representative institutions, such as Parliament, there are no corresponding bodies for governing workplace relations.” Gall includes in his argument for industrial democracy a point that the traditional left has largely ignored – the limitations of trade unions. Whilst workers have traditionally sought to promote their interests through unions he writes “….but unions are dependent upon other parties, namely employers and the state for acceptance, legitimacy and recognition, so workers have no automatic inalienable or inviolable rights for exercising some form of control over their working lives”.
Industrial democracy as such should not be dependent on the changing influence and power of unions. A further point that could be made of course is that many unions now are even less democratic and do not necessarily provide a democratic channel for workers to run their workplaces.
Gall considers that it is generally accepted in liberal democracies that “workers should have a right to participate in the making of decisions that affect their working lives”. What prevents this is “the imbalance of power between “labour (workers), on the one hand, and capital (employers) and the state, on the other.” In the UK this has take the form of de-regulation of employment relations, a hallmark of industrial relations since Thatcher, except in the case of regulations to curb union powers and discipline labour. Gall also highlights how this system actually achieves the opposite of what capital wants – raising productivity – instead it leads to low productivity, “waste and duplication.”
There are problems with this analysis. Firstly this imbalance is not unique to the ‘collective laissez-faire’ form of capitalism: it is a problem of capital itself. Capital’s proclaimed equality in the contract between a worker and employer is a myth and the worker is a wage-slave with no alternative but to sell his/her capacity to work – labour power. As such the imbalance of power is integral to the system of producing capital.
Gall holds out the possibility of change not only to make work more effective and democratic but “more fulfilling and enriching”. It is heartening to hear anyone on the left pointing to the possibility of eradicating the alienation of work. This is to be achieved by a system of “joint-control and co-determination”. This must be of “considerable depth and breadth” and not merely the use of the existing frameworks already established by senior management. The conditions for “democracy and participation” which are set out combine elements of existing negotiating frameworks, such as rights to information and initiative proposals, and also new rights to “impose obligations on management” and restrict their ability to unilaterally impose their will. In a nutshell, this would amount to representative structures “balanced between workers and employers”.
Gall’s proposals would represent a major step forward compared to the current situation in which the labour movement accepts collective bargaining and social partnership as the most we can ever achieve. But Gall’s proposals cannot be an end in itself. If workers do not manage production then clearly someone else does, and such is the nature of our class-divided society, inevitably capital will re-assert itself with new techniques of control. This is similar to what happened when the working class gained access to Parliament: more and more power was centralised, away from Parliament itself.
Achieving new forms of workers’ control will require a real cultural shift: this is addressed in Rosamund Stock’s Why we need a Culture of Social Ownership. This starts with a precondition which undermines her own proposals. That is that she will “not deal with the forms of social ownership” but starts with the assumption that “social ownership will take many forms, from state ownership to small co-operatives”. It is difficult however to see how we can develop the “supporting culture of social ownership” necessary for its success separate from conceptualising what social ownership means. This is no small matter.
From our 21st century vantage point, from all our experience of the last century of failed state-socialist models, we need to take a firm stand to exclude, not include, the equation of state-ownership with social ownership. These days many socialists use the term “social ownership” instead of nationalisation. But whether “public ownership” or “social-ownership” – they both mean the same things – state-ownership. But they are in fact two very different things. One cannot equate the state with society, social ownership with state ownership, without advocating the recasting of the capitalist system.
Stock, to be fair, does pose various forms of social ownership, such as cooperatives. Her aim is to build a counter culture to that of anti-cooperative capitalist ideas. Her conception is of social ownership which is very different from just membership of an association but truly participatory. This is an important question and her plea for a cultural revolution to enable social ownership is an important question. The process of developing workers’ self-management does involve a cultural revolution: this is directly linked to how social-ownership is created. If it is developed through the solidarity of struggle from below then by its very nature it involves cooperation in its very foundations.
The other forms, both state-socialist and the “cooperatives”, are something brought about externally to workers themselves. For example she writes that: “people learn from doing: if people are put into a structure of co-operative relations, they will not only start to co-operate more, see others as more similar to themselves, and support egalitarian outcomes such as redistribution and equality of outcome”. In fact experience has shown otherwise: for real lasting social ownership cannot come from above. As she herself writes “you have changed the concept of ownership from being an individual one to an inherently social one. Such accountability would be a spur to grassroots organisation.” This is precisely what we need to do.
The essay by Jerry Jones, former economics correspondent for the Morning Star, is entitled The economic case for worker-owned co-operatives. In his opening line he states that: “An economy based on worker-owned co-operatives would not look much different from the economy we now have”. The reader won’t be disappointed: the economy he depicts is indeed not much different. Essentially what Jones conceptualises is a worker-controlled capitalist economy, where “the major difference would be that the profit would go to the workers rather than the capitalist owners”. The political economy is Keynesian, “it is likely that workers would choose to pay themselves more” which “in turn, would stimulate more investment and employment in production”, etc. Jones knows the dangers inherent in this system, such as the drive to reduce labour costs to be more competitive: his solution to the workers engaging in such practices is minimum wage legislation. This is partly connected to Jones’s mistaken view of the crisis which can occur in capitalist society as being caused by the workers not earning enough to buy goods and the bizarre idea that capital is accumulated because of it having nowhere else to go due to lack of investment opportunities.
Jones’s problem is he sees the importance of production relations and the need to change them but does not see the market as a manifestation of these production relations. Marx long ago showed that crisis is not caused by a shortage of consumer demand. On the contrary, it is the crisis that causes a shortage of demand. A crisis occurs not because there has been a scarcity of markets but because from the capitalist viewpoint there is an unsatisfactory distribution of income, Marx, based as he was on the capital-labour relationship, saw the decay in capitalist production in the tendency in the rate of profit to decline, which has nothing whatever to do with the inability sell. On the other hand, like Jones, the bourgeois economists see the decline in the rate of profit merely as a result of a deficiency in effective demand.
Jones seems to think these problems are overcome by placing the workers in control in a profit share system. It is basically Market Socialism, reminiscent of the form practiced in Yugoslavia, which actually undermined workers’ self-management. Capital lives by obtaining ever more surplus value from the worker who produces it. For this reason any effort to control capital without uprooting the basis of value production is ultimately self-defeating. What is entirely missing in the views of Jones is the idea of transforming the economy – to end value production and exchange. Instead with Jones we have simply capitalism with some socialist flavouring.
If Jones repeats the errors of Market-Socialism, the essay by Communication Workers’ Union activists Maria Exall and Gary Heather Telecommunications of the future under public ownership disappointingly repeats those of state-socialism. They make a well researched indictment of the post privatisation set-up in the telecommunications industry, however their statement that “Under public ownership surplus was used to finance social investment for the many, while under privatisation was used to finance social investment for the few”, is a more than exaggerated view of the previous forms of state-ownership in the UK.
The authors advocate a re-integration of the telecommunications industry into the state-sector and explain the tangible benefits that could thus arise. This would be achieved by the exchange of shares for interest bearing bonds. One can understand this as an ameliorative programme within an overall drive for something far better but it is not presented in that way at all. Instead “this bright future will only become reality if communications industries are, planned, organised and democratically controlled under public ownership to serve the public good along egalitarian lines”. But instead of painting the picture splendid the authors leave us on the arid plains of state ownership. This is far from a “bright future”. A call centre worker remains alienated and exploited whether in a state owned or private owned call centre: this vision offers little hope to the wage slave. This proposal by the CWU activists is far cry from the views of their predecessor union the UPW who in 1956 organised a campaign to foster support for the “principles of Industrial Democracy and an appreciation of how those principles can be applied to our everyday working lives.” What they said in The Business of Workers’ Control presents a far brighter future to the generation of today:
“We believe that industry should be so organised that its social purpose should be recognised by all those who engaged within it as paramount. In other words, while we must recognise and accept the importance of production techniques, this must not blind us to the essential importance of man as man. This makes us hold fast to a basic belief that industry provides us with an opportunity to develop our qualities not only as producers, but as human beings and as citizens.”
The vision outlined by Bob Crow of the RMT in Rail privatisation – a failed experiment contrasts sharply to that of the CWU comrades. Crow similarly presents clearly the utter failure that privatisation has brought in the railway industry, with £1 billion being extracted each year by the private operators in guaranteed profits delivered by the government from tax-payers’ money. But Crow makes clear that “there can be no desire to repeat the mistakes of the BR era”. He wants a rail re-nationalisation which would see trade unions “involved at the ground floor of change, drawing up and delivering an integrated and environmentally sustainable national transport plan”. Furthermore he does not rely on government bonds, calling for re-nationalisation “without compensation”.
His immediate form of ownership would be a combination of “trade unions, national, regional and local authorities, passengers, and the industry itself”. But he goes further: “Public ownership and democratic accountability must go hand-in-glove, but also in the context of wider social and economic change.” Crow traces the long history of the rail unions’ demands for greater workers’ control from 1914, 1917 and 1945 – in 1953 they argued that nationalisation should be a “preliminary to socialism, and it is in that context that democratic self-management becomes a realistic proposition.” In this regard Crow stands head and shoulder above the other contributors to the LEAP pamphlet.
The essay by Gerry Gold, The Growing Case for Social Ownership, does take the pamphlet to a different level in stating clearly that “ethical production and capitalist production for profit are mutually exclusive opposites”. Gold recognises the long and often neglected history of co-operatives, which in the world provide over 100 million jobs. He does go out of his way to emphasise that lessons must be learned from the “failures of the bureaucratic, state-run forms of social ownership of the Stalinist period”. Instead – “new forms of participative democratic control and accountability will be needed“.
But he goes one step further, recognising that “self-managed organisations” will have a role in a new form of economy: “The campaign for social ownership and control should explore ways to distribute the income from the operation of an organisation. The key issue is the replacement of the wages-for-labour employment contract which along with ownership by investors interested solely in profits are the foundations of the failing social and economic system. Gold calls for a new kind of government resting on an independent social movement, and concludes that it is necessary to recognise “that the old politics is finished and that creative, new solutions must be found.”
The LEAP pamphlet concludes with an appeal by John McDonnell MP that now is the time to “reinvigorate the debate about a new role for social ownership in the 21st century”. From this debate he argues “we need to take forward a campaign for a worker controlled economy, accountable to our communities” into the whole labour movement.
In 1953 The TUC published an Interim Report on Public Ownership which bemoaned criticism of existing structures of industry by advocates of ‘workers control’. They were branded “out-of-date ideas” and it said that a “determined effort ought therefore to be made by education and propaganda” to rinse them out of the movement. Fifty-five years later communists can celebrate their failure: the ‘good auld cause’ is rising again and to that end the LEAP pamphlet is a most welcome contribution.
A review of the book
Building the new common sense: Social ownership for the 21st century, ed. Andrew Fisher, Left Economics Advisory Panel (LEAP)
by Chris Kane
Reprinted from The Commune.
Κριτικές Βιβλίων, Chris Kane, Εργασιακή Διαδικασία, Κρατικές Επιχειρήσεις, Εργατική Αυτοδιαχείριση, Εργατικός Έλεγχος, 21ος αιώνας – Εργατικός Έλεγχος στη Σύγχρονη Εποχή, Μεγάλη Βρετανία, ΕυρώπηTopicΝαιΝαιNoΌχι -
English28/12/15
‘Merits of Workers’ Control in Industry’
Title of an article by Alasdair Clayre, The Times, September 19, 1969.
‘Workers Control exists wherever trade union practice, shop stewards sanctions and collective power constrain employers’.
Ken Coates and Tony Topham, ‘Participation or Control, p. 10, March 1969.
Workers’ Control, like charity, should begin at home… It is no use hoping for the workers to control industries if they don’t control their own unions’.
R. Challinor, ‘International Socialism’ no. 40, October/November 1969.
The working out of even the most elementary economic plan – from the point of view of the exploited, not the exploiters – is impossible without workers’ control, that is without the penetration of the workers’ eye into all open and concealed springs of capitalist economy’.
L. Trotsky, The Transitional Programme, 1938
‘In the long run Workers’ Control is a political rather than industrial concept … To accept that a man who works for an organization has the right to own it and direct it challenges the whole basis of property-owning capitalism’.
M. Ivens, The Times, December 12, 1969.
It is obvious that all those quoted [above] cannot be thinking of the same thing when they talk of ‘workers’ control’. What then does each of them mean when they use these currently fashionable words?’ Those who seek to answer this question will discover to their amazement that none of these pundits proposes a clear and unambiguous definition.
‘What do you mean by workers’ control? is a question to press on anyone now raising the slogan. Some of the usual answers are listed below. (They are discussed further on in the article.) We have grouped the answers under three-main headings:
1. Workers’ control = participation of shop floor representatives on the Board of Management of various enterprises
There are many variations on this theme. Some propose that the ‘representatives’ only be observers. Others demand for them the right to advise. Or the right to veto decisions taken by management. Or the right to participate in the taking of these decisions. Some propose that the ‘representatives’ number less than half the Board, others demand half…or more. Some would restrict their rights to dealing with technical aspects of the work process. Others would include working conditions and pay within their terms of reference. Finally some suggest that the workers’ ‘representatives’ should be union officials, or Company nominees. Still others advocate that they should be technical experts. Some propose that they should be elected from the shop floor itself.
2. Workers’ control = participation of shop floor representatives in trade union decision-making
Here too there are many variations. Some who hold this view would demand that workers be given the right to participate in union decision-making – i.e. that the unions be made ‘more democratic’, for in theory all union members have this right. Others demand the right of groups of workers to veto decisions reached ‘on their behalf’ – but without consultation -by the union Executives. Some would restrict rank and file rights to strike decisions only. Others would extend them to the right directly to negotiate about conditions of work and pay.
3. Workers’ control = an adjunct to nationalisation (‘Nationalisation under workers’ control’)
The function of ‘workers’ control’ under these circumstances is seldom spelt out. Some see it as a ‘transitional’ demand, others as a characteristic feature of a socialist society. Some see the objective of this kind of workers’ control as being to advise the ‘workers’ state’ on matters of overall economic policy – or to seek to influence such policy in a particular direction, or to ensure the smoothest possible execution of an industrial policy elaborated by the political institutions of the ‘new’ state.
Before going any further let us state here that we of SOLIDARITY reject all these meanings of workers’ control and consider them ambiguous or harmful. All these interpretations evade the key issue of decisional authority within society. For these reasons we do not in fact use the words ‘workers’ control but speak of ‘workers’ management’.
The variations on the first concept of workers’ control (‘participation in management’) all tacitly accept the authority of someone other than the producers themselves to manage production (i.e., to take the fundamental decisions). The producers are only allowed to ‘participate’ (i.e. to play a part or look in).
The advocates of this type of ‘workers control’ seem mainly concerned at ‘improving communications’ in industry. They see industrial struggle as deriving from defects in such communications rather than from an irreconcilable conflict of interests. Their models are the Joint Production Committees that became widespread during World War II.
As against this viewpoint we insist that the General Assembly of the workers in any plant, or its elected and revocable Council, should alone have all managerial authority at plant level. Regional or national federations should have authority at regional or national level. All other bodies claiming managerial rights (whether they be managers in the pay of capitalist enterprises, trade union officials, government nominees or Party bureaucrats) are parasitic and must be exposed as such. As for the technical experts – they should advise, not impose decisions. Anyone who discusses workers’ control without clearly stating his views on the authority of the General Assembly of the workers at plant level, or of the Federations of Workers Councils at higher levels, is spreading a smokescreen around the central issue.
The advocates of the second concept (‘participation in union decision-making’) argue beside the point. The rule of the Factory Council implies that they take over all the functions at present carried out both by management and by the unions. ‘Workers’ control’ is not decisional authority in the hands of union officials. The rule of the Factory Councils will make the unions as well as management redundant. That is precisely why the unions (whether democratic or not) will fight to their death against workers’ management of production.
As for the third view (‘works’ councils acting as-pressure groups to influence the. government’s national policy’) it implies the-acceptance by the workers of the authority of a political bureaucracy.
As against this we stand for Community Councils, Workers’ Councils, University Councils, Schools’ Councils, etc. – federated at local, regional and national levels – becoming the decision-making authority on every aspect of production, services, and social life. It is these Councils who must decide the what, why, and how of the workings of society, including every aspect of production. Needless to say such a state of affairs cannot be achieved without revolution. Our view of revolution is not merely the replacement of the rule of the representatives of Capital by the rule of the Revolutionary Party. For us revolution is the rule of Industrial and Community Councils. Unless the revolution transforms the entire structure of authority relations throughout society it is doomed to degenerate into the rule of an elite. Others hold entirely different ideas on ‘workers’ control. For example in a recent polemic on the subject between International Socialism and the Institute for Workers’ Control (see I.S., Oct/Nov 1969). Tony Topham of the I.W.C. declares ‘No Incomes Policy without Workers’ Control’ The author goes on to clarify his meaning by saying ‘No Incomes Policy without a Workers’ Veto’. Topham seems to consider the right of workers’ (unions? shop stewards’ committees? General Assemblies?) to veto governmental decisions as ‘workers’ control’’ or at least as some part of it. But to demand the right to veto someone else’s decisions conceals the acceptance of that ‘someone else’s’ authority to initiate the decisions in the first place. Topham concedes the very principle we are contesting. .
Raymond Challinor of I.S. rebukes Topham, but in a different vein altogether: 'It is no use hoping for the workers to control industries if they don’t control their own unions’. First control the unions, he seems to be saying, and control of the factories will perhaps come later. But what does ‘control of the unions’ mean? Challinor -believes that the unions must (and therefore presumably that they can) be made, more democratic. He explains: ‘Not only is the idea that workers representatives should receive the average pay of the men they represent intrinsic to the; concept of industrial democracy, but it is equally important that they should be subject to recall’. This is a pious hope and in contradiction with the whole historical development of the unions under modern capitalism. It ignores their gradual but irreversible integration into exploiting society. The view expressed implies moreover that Challinor expects ‘workers’ control’ to be exercised through ‘democratic unions’. Why through unions? Why not full managerial authority exercised directly by the General Assembly or its Council in the factory and through Federations of Workers’ Councils at regional and national levels? Why this fetishism of the authority of both unions and government?
The Institute for Workers’ Control considers its role mainly as ‘educational’ and ‘reformist’. It is ‘practical’ and ‘realistic’. It therefore refuses to discuss such unrealistic issues as Revolution or the rule of the Factory Councils. It accepts the present authority of the trade union apparatus and merely seeks to extend it. International Socialism on the other hand consider themselves, ‘political’ ‘revolutionary’ and can afford to ‘challenge’ the present union bureaucracy (although at election time giving ‘critical support’ to one bureaucratic faction against another).
Both I.W.G. and I.S however share a restricted view of how workers should exercise their authority. They both share'(without being aware of it?) the assumption that the basic decisions concerning production will have to be taken out of the hands of those directly involved in production and vested in the hands of some political bureaucracy (those managing the ‘nationalised’ industry). For those who accept such fundamental assumptions, ‘workers’ control’ will always be restricted to technical or supervisory functions, for it is conceived of as something separate from the question of political authority.
For us workers’ management means the same as workers power. Let us spell it out. NEITHER THE RULE OF CAPITALISTS. NOR THE RULE OF PARLIAMENT. NOR THE RULE OF THE TRADE UNIONS. NOR THE RULE OF THE ‘REVOLUTIONARY PARTY’. BUT THE DIRECT AND TOTAL RULE OF THE FACTORY AND COMMUNITY COUNCILS. In other words we stand for a society based on self-management in every branch of social life. Community and Factory Councils must take over all decision-making authority at present vested in Parliament, political parties, unions, or capitalist management.
In this we differ from all those revolutionaries (the ‘traditional left’) who stick to the idea of political authority as something separate from the productive process. We believe that the very system of rule by a separate political apparatus is redundant and that this apparatus will be replaced – in the revolutionary process – by the direct rule of the Councils. All political organisations who will attempt to build a separate power structure outside of the Councils will be challenged by the Revolution as just another set of external manipulators. For workers’ power challenges not only property-owning capitalism but the very separation of political authority from production. Sooner or later all revolutionaries will have to choose between ‘All Power to the Councils’ and ‘All Power to the Party’. Their choice will determine not only their political role but also their historical future.
Originally published in Solidarity For Workers’ Power, Vol.6, No.6, 1970.
Reprinted from The Commune.
1960-2000 – Εργατικός 'Ελεγχος ενάντια στην Καπιταλιστική Αναδιάρθρωση, Βιομηχανική Δημοκρατία, Εργασιακή Διαδικασία, Solidarity Group (UK), Συνδικαλισμός, Εργατικός Έλεγχος, Εργατικά ΣυμβούλιαTopicΝαιΝαιNoΌχι -
English28/12/15Workers' management is not just a new administrative technique: it means that for the mass of people, new relations will have to develop with their work, the very content of work will have to alter.
Socialism will only be brought about by the autonomous action of the majority of the population. Socialist society is nothing other than the self-organization of this autonomy. Socialism both presupposes this autonomy, and helps to develop it.
But if this autonomy is people's conscious domination over all their activities, it is clear that we can't just concern ourselves with political autonomy. Political autonomy is but a derivative aspect of what is the central content and problem of socialism: to institute the domination of mankind over the work process. [n7] A purely political autonomy would be meaningless. One can't imagine a society where people would be slaves in production every day of the week, and then enjoy Sundays of political freedom. [n8] The idea that socialist production or a socialist economy could be run, at any particular level, by managers (themselves supervised by Councils, or Soviets, or by any other body 'incarnating the political power of the working class') is quite nonsensical. Real power in any such society would rapidly fall into the hands of those who managed production. The Councils or Soviets would rapidly wither amid the general indifference of the population. People would stop devoting time, interest, or activity to institutions which no longer really influenced the pattern of their lives.
Autonomy is therefore meaningless unless it implies workers' management of production, and this at the levels of the shop, of the plant, of whole industries, and of the economy as a whole. But, workers' management is not just a new administrative technique. It cannot remain external to the structure of work itself. It doesn't mean keeping work as it is, and just replacing the bureaucratic apparatus which currently manages production by a Workers' Council -- however democratic or revocable such a Council might be. It means that for the mass of people, new relations will have to develop with their work, and about their work. The very content of work will immediately have to alter.
Today, the purpose, means, methods, and rhythms of work are determined, from the outside, by the bureaucratic managerial apparatus. This apparatus can only manage through resort to universal, abstract rules, determined 'once and for all'. These rules cover such matters as norms of production, technical specifications, rates of pay, bonus, and how production areas will be organized. The periodic revision of these rules regularly results in 'crises' in the organization of production. Once the bureaucratic managerial apparatus has been eliminated, this sort of structure of production will have to disappear, both in form and content.
In accord with the deepest of working-class aspirations, already tentatively expressed at the heights of working-class struggle, production norms will be abolished altogether, and complete equality in wages will be instituted. [a11] These measures, taken together as a first step, will put an end to exploitation and to all the externally imposed constraints and coercions in production. To the extent that work will still be necessary (and this itself will be a matter for constant review by society as a whole), work discipline will be a matter of relations between the individual work and the group with which s/he works, of relations between groups of workers and the shop as a whole, and of relations between various shops, and the General Assembly of the Factory or Enterprise.
Workers' management is therefore not the 'supervision' of a bureaucratic managerial apparatus by representatives of the workers. Nor is it the replacement of this apparatus by another, formed of individuals of working-class origin. It is the abolition of any separate managerial apparatus and the restitution of the functions of such an apparatus to the community of workers. The Factory Council isn't a new managerial apparatus. It is but one of the places in which coordination takes place, a 'local headquarters' from which contacts between the factory and the outside world are regulated.
If this is achieved, it will imply that the nature and content of work are already beginning to alter. Today, work consists essentially in obeying instructions initiated elsewhere. Workers' management will mean the reuniting of the functions of decision and execution. But, even this will be insufficient -- or rather, it will immediately lead on to something else. The restitution of managerial functions to the workers will inevitably lead them to tackle what is, today, the kernel of alienation, namely the technological structure of work, which results in work dominating the workers instead of being dominated by them. This problem will not be solved overnight, but its solution will be the task of that historical period which we call socialism. Socialism is, first and foremost, the solution of this particular problem.
Between capitalism and communism there aren't 36 types of 'transitional society', as some have sought to make us believe. There is but one: socialism. And, the main characteristic of socialism isn't 'the development of the productive forces', or 'the increasing satisfaction of consumer needs', or 'an increase of political freedom'. The hallmark of socialism is the change it will bring about in the nature and content of work, through the conscious and deliberate transformation of an inherited technology. For the first time in human history, technology will be subordinated to human needs (not only to the people's needs as consumers but also to their needs as producers).
The socialist revolution will allow this process to begin. Its completion will mark the entry of humanity into the communist era. Everything else -- politics, consumption, etc. -- are consequences or implications, which one must certainly look at in their organic unity, but which can only acquire such a unity or meaning through their relation to the key problem: the transformation of work itself. Human freedom will remain an illusion and a mystification if it doesn't mean freedom in people's fundamental activity: the activity which produces. And, this freedom will not be a gift bestowed by nature. It will not automatically arise, out of other developments. It will have to be consciously created. In the last analysis, this is the content of socialism.
Important practical consequences flow from all this. Changing the nature of work will be tackled from both ends. On the one hand, conditions will be created which will allow the fullest possible development of people's human capacities and faculties. This will imply the systematic dismantling, stone by stone, of the whole edifice of the division of labor. On the other hand, people will have to give a whole new orientation to technical developments, and to how they may apply to production. These are but two aspects of the same thing: man's relation to technique.
Let us start by looking at the second, more tangible, point: technical development as such. As a first approximation, one could say that capitalist technology (the current application of technique to production) is rotten at the core because it doesn't help people dominate their work, its aim being the very opposite. Socialists often say that what is basically wrong with capitalist technology is that it seeks to develop production for purposes of profit, or that it develops production for production's sake, independently of human needs (people being conceived of, in these arguments, only as potential consumers of products). The same socialists then tell us that the purpose of socialism is to adapt production to the real consumer needs of society, both in relation to volume and to the nature of the goods produced.
Of course, all this is true, and any society lies condemned in which a single child or adult goes hungry. But the more fundamental problem lies elsewhere.
Capitalism does not utilize a socially neutral technology for capitalist ends. Capitalism has created a capitalist technology, for its own ends, which are by no means neutral. The real essence of capitalist technology is not to develop production for production's sake: it is to subordinate and dominate the producers. Capitalist technology is primarily characterized by its drive to eliminate the human element in productive labor and, in the long run, to eliminate man altogether from the productive process. That here, as elsewhere, capitalism fails to fulfill its deepest tendency -- and that it would fall to pieces if it achieved its purpose -- does not affect the argument. On the contrary, it only highlights another aspect of the crisis of the system.
Capitalism cannot count on the voluntary cooperation of the producers. On the contrary, it has constantly to face their hostility (or, at best, indifference). This is why it is essential for the machine to impose its rhythm on the work process. Where this isn't possible capitalism seeks at least to measure the work performed. In every productive process, work must therefore be definable, quantifiable, controllable from the outside. As long as capitalism can't dispense with workers altogether, it has to make them as interchangeable as possible and to reduce their work to its simplest expression, that of unskilled labor. There is no conscious conspiracy or plot behind all this.
There is only a process of 'natural selection', affecting technical inventions as they are applied to industry. Some are preferred to others and are, on the whole, more widely utilized. These are the ones which slot in with capitalism's basic need to deal with labor-power as a measurable, controllable and interchangeable commodity.
There is no capitalist chemistry or capitalist physics as such -- but, there is certainly a capitalist technology, if by this, one means that of the 'spectrum' of techniques available at a given point in time (which is determined by the development of science) a given group (or 'band') will be selected. From the moment the development of science permits a choice of several possible techniques, a society will regularly choose those methods which have a meaning for it, which are 'rational' in the light of its own class rationality. But the 'rationality' of an exploiting society is not the rationality of socialism. [n9] The conscious transformation of technology will, therefore, be a central task of a society of free workers.
Marx, as is well known, was the first to go beyond the surface of the economic phenomena of capitalism (such as the market, competition, distribution, etc.) and to tackle the analysis of the key area of capitalist social relations: the concrete relations of production in the capitalist factory. But "Volume I" of Capital is still awaiting completion. The most striking feature of the degeneration of the Marxist movement is that this particular concern of Marx's, the most fundamental of all, was soon abandoned, even by the best of Marxists, in favour of the analysis of the 'important' phenomena. Through this very fact, these analyses were either totally distorted, or found themselves dealing with very partial aspects of reality, thereby leading to judgments that proved catastrophically wrong.
Thus, it is striking to see Rosa Luxembourg devote two important volumes to the Accumulation of Capital, in which she totally ignores what this process of accumulation really means as to the relations of production. Her concern in these volumes was solely about the possibility of a global equilibrium between production and consumption and she was finally led to believe she had discovered a process of automatic collapse of capitalism (an idea, needless to say, concretely false and a priori absurd). It is just as striking to see Lenin, in his Imperialism, start from the correct and fundamental observation that the concentration of capital has reached the stage of the domination of the monopolies -- and yet, neglect the transformation of the relations of production in the capitalist factory, which results precisely from such a concentration, and ignore the crucial phenomenon of the constitution of an enormous apparatus managing production, which was, henceforth, to incarnate exploitation. He preferred to see the main consequences of the concentration of capital in the transformation of capitalists into 'coupon-clipping' rentiers. The working class movement is still paying the price of the consequences of this way of looking at things. In so far as ideas play a role in history, Khrushchev is in power in Russia as a by-product of the conception that exploitation can only take the form of coupon-clipping.
But, we must go further back still. We must go back to Marx himself. Marx threw a great deal of light on the alienation of the producer in the course of capitalist production and on the enslavement of man by the mechanical universe he had created. But Marx's analysis is at times incomplete, in that he sees but alienation in all this.
In Capital -- as opposed to Marx's early writings it is not brought out that the worker is (and can only be) the positive vehicle of capitalist production, which is obliged to base itself on him as such, and to develop him as such, while simultaneously seeking to reduce him to an automaton and, at the limit, to drive him out of production altogether. Because of this, the analysis fails to perceive that the prime crisis of capitalism is the crisis in production, due to the simultaneous existence of two contradictory tendencies, neither of which could disappear without the whole system collapsing. Marx shows in capitalism 'despotism in the workshop and anarchy in society' -- instead of seeing it as both despotism and anarchy in both workshop and society. This leads him to look for the crisis of capitalism not in production itself (except insofar as capitalist production develops 'oppression, misery, degeneration, but also revolt', and the numerical strength and discipline of the proletariat) -- but in such factors as overproduction and the fall in the rate of profit. Marx fails to see that as long as this type of work persists, this crisis will persist with all it entails, and this whatever the system not only of property, but whatever the nature of the state, and finally whatever even the system of management of production.
In certain passages of Capital, Marx is thus led to see in modern production only the fact that the producer is mutilated and reduced to a 'fragment of a man' -- which is true, as much as the contrary [n10] -- and, what is more serious, to link this aspect to modern production and finally to production as such, instead of linking it to capitalist technology. Marx implies that the basis of this state of affairs is modern production as such, a stage in the development of technique about which nothing can be done, the famous 'realm of necessity'. Thus, the taking over of society by the producers -- socialism -- at times comes to mean, for Marx, only an external change in political and economic management, a change that would leave intact the structure of work and simply reform its more 'inhuman' aspects. This idea is clearly expressed in the famous passage of "Volume III" of Capital, where speaking of socialist society, Marx says:
'In fact, the realm of freedom actually begins only where labor which is determined by necessity and mundane considerations ceases; thus, in the very nature of things, it lies beyond the sphere of actual material production. ... Freedom in this field can only consist in socialized man, the associated producers, rationally regulating their interchange with Nature, bringing it under their common control, instead of being ruled by it... and, achieving this with the least expenditure of energy and under conditions most favorable to, and worthy of their human nature. But, it nonetheless still remains a realm of necessity. Beyond it begins ... the true realm of freedom, which however can blossom forth only with this realm of necessity as its basis. The shortening of the working day is its basic prerequisite.' [a12]
If it is true that the' realm of freedom actually begins only where labor which is determined by necessity and mundane considerations ceases' it is strange to read from the pen of the man who wrote that 'industry was the open book of human faculties' that freedom could 'thus' only be found outside of work. The proper conclusion -- which Marx himself draws in certain other places -- is that the realm of freedom starts when work becomes free activity, both in what motivates it and in its content. In the dominant concept, however, freedom is what isn't work, it is what surrounds work, it is either 'free time' (reduction of the working day) or 'rational regulation' and 'common control' of exchanges with Nature, which minimize human effort and preserve human dignity. In this perspective, the reduction of the working day certainly becomes a 'basic prerequisite', as mankind would finally only be free in its leisure.
The reduction of the working day is, in fact, important, not for this reason however, but to allow people to achieve a balance between their various types of activity. And, at the limit, the 'ideal' (communism) isn't the reduction of the working day to zero, but the free determination by all of the nature and extent of their work. Socialist society will be able to reduce the length of the working day, and will have to do so, but this will not be its fundamental preoccupation. Its first task will be to tackle 'the realm of necessity', as such, to transform the very nature of work. The problem is not to leave more and more 'free' time to individuals -- which might well only be empty time -- so that they may fill it at will with 'poetry' or the carving of wood. The problem is to make of all time a time of liberty and to allow concrete freedom to find expression in creative activity.
The problem is to put poetry into work. [n11] Production isn't something negative, that has to be limited as much as possible for mankind to fulfill itself in its leisure. The institution of autonomy is also -- and, in the first place -- the institution of autonomy in work.
Underlying the idea that freedom is to be found 'outside the realm of material production proper' there lies a double error. Firstly, that the very nature of technique and of modern production renders inevitable the domination of the productive process over the producer, in the course of his work. Secondly, that technology and in particular modern technology follows an autonomous development, before which one can only bow. This modern technology would, moreover, possess the double attribute of, on the one hand, constantly reducing the human role in production and, on the other hand, of constantly increasing the productivity of labor. From these two inexplicably combined attributes would result a miraculous dialectic of technological progress: more and more a slave in the course of work, man would be in a position enormously to reduce the length of work, if only s/he could organize society rationally.
We have already shown however that there is no autonomous development of technology. Of the sum total of technologies which scientific development makes possible at any given point in time, capitalist society brings to fulfillment those which correspond most closely to its class structure, which permit capital best to struggle against labor. It is generally believed that the application of this or that invention to production depends on its economic 'profitability'. But there is no such thing as a neutral 'profitability': the class struggle in the factory is the main factor determining 'profitability'. A given invention will be preferred to another by a factory management if, other things being equal, it enhances the 'independent' progress of production, freeing it from interference by the producers. The increasing enslavement of people in production flows essentially from this process, and not from some mysterious curse, inherent in a given phase of technological development. There is, moreover, no magic dialectic of slavery and productivity: productivity increases in relation to the enormous scientific and technical development which is at the basis of modern production -- and it increases despite the slavery, and not because of it. Slavery implies an enormous waste, due to the fact that people only contribute an infinitesimal fraction of their capacities to production. (We are passing no a priori judgment on what these capacities might be. However low they may estimate it, the manager of Fords and the Secretary of the Russian Communist Party would have to admit that their own particular ways of organizing production only tapped an infinitesimal fraction of it).
Socialist society will therefore not be afflicted with any kind of technological curse. Having abolished bureaucratic capitalist relationships it will tackle at the same time the technological structure of production, which is both the basis of these relationships and their ever-renewed product.
Notes:
n7 We deliberately say 'to institute' and not 'to restore', for never in history has this domination really existed. All comparisons with historical antecedents -- for instance, with the situations of the artisan or of the free peasant, however fruitful they may be in some respects, have only a limited scope and risk leading one one into utopian thinking.
n8 Yet this is almost exactly what Lenin's definition of socialism as 'electrification plus (the political power of the) Soviets' boiled down to.
n9 Academic economists have analyzed the fact that of several technically feasible possibilities, certain ones are chosen, and that these choices lead to a particular pattern of technology applied in real life, which seems to concretize the technique of a given period. [See, for instance, Joan Robinson's The Accumulation of Capital (London; 1956; pages 101-178]. But in these analyses, the choice is always presented as flowing from considerations of 'profitability' and, in particular, from the 'relative costs of capital and labor'. This abstract viewpoint has little effect on the reality of industrial evolution. Marx, on the other hand, underlines the social content of machine-dominated industry, its enslaving function.
n10 In other words, abilities, know-how, and awareness, are developed in production.
n11 Strictly speaking, poetry means creation.
This is chapter 4 of the book "Workers' Councils and the Economics of Self-Managed Society".
Originally published in French as "Sur le contenu du socialisme, II," in July 1957.
Published in English by Solidarity in 1972.
Reprinted from www.lust-for-life.org.
1960-2000 – Εργατικός 'Ελεγχος ενάντια στην Καπιταλιστική Αναδιάρθρωση, Cornelius Castoriadis, Εργασιακή Διαδικασία, Εργατική Αυτοδιαχείριση, Εργατικά Συμβούλια, Cornelius CastoriadisTopicΝαιΝαιNoΌχι -
English28/12/15An open letter to the comrades of the 'International Socialists'
Dear comrades,
It is remarkable how few socialists seem to recognize the connection between the structure of their own organization and the type of ‘socialist’ society it might help bring about.
If the revolutionary organization is seen as the means and socialist society as the end, one might expect people with an elementary understanding of dialectics to recognize the relation between the two. Means and ends are mutually dependent. They constantly influence each other. The means are, in fact, a partial implementation of the end, whereas the end becomes modified by the means adopted.
One could almost say ‘tell me your views concerning the structure and function of the revolutionary organization and I’ll tell you what the society you will help create will be like’. Or conversely ‘give me your definition of socialism and I’ll tell you what your views on the revolutionary organization are likely to be’.
We see socialism as a society based on self-management in every branch of social life. Its basis would be workers’ management of production exercised through Workers’ Councils. Accordingly we conceive of the revolutionary organisation as one which incorporates self-management in its structure and abolishes within its own ranks the separation between the functions of decision-making and execution. The revolutionary organisation should propagate these principles in every area of social life.
Others may have different conceptions of socialism. They may have different views on the aims and structure of the revolutionary organisation. They must state what these are clearly, openly and unambiguously. They owe it not only to the workers and students but to themselves.
An example of haziness in the definition of socialism (and of its repercussions concerning revolutionary organisation) is to be found in the material published by the central bodies of International Socialism (IS) in preparation for the bi-annual conference of September 1968.
In the duplicated ‘Statement of basic principles’ (IS constitution) we find that IS struggles for ‘workers’ control’. But we also find that “planning, under workers’ control, demands nationalisation”. These are the only references, in the document, to the structure of the socialist society towards whose creation all of IS’s activity is directed.
How, precisely, does IS conceive of working class ‘control’? What does ‘nationalisation’ mean? How does IS relate to ‘workers’ control’? Does the working class implement its ‘control’ through the mediation of a political party? Or of trade union officials? Or of a technocracy? Or through workers’ councils?
Are those who formulated the IS constitution aware that ‘nationalisation’ means precisely relegating authority of decision-making on industrial policy to a group of state officials? Don’t they realise that the struggle of the French students and workers for ‘autogestion’ (self-management) renders ‘nationalisation’ irrelevant? Apparently they do not. In the analysis of the French events (The Struggle Continues) written by T. Cliff and I. Birchall (and produced as an official IS publication) the relation between self-management and nationalisation is not discussed at all.
Why should a national federation of Workers’ Councils (composed of elected and revocable delegates of regional Councils) allow any other group in society to wield ultimate authority in relation to all aspects of production?
In political terms the question could be posed thus: does IS stand for the policy of ‘All Power to the Workers’ Councils’? Or does it stand for the policy of ‘All Power to the Revolutionary Party’? It is no use evading the issue by saying that in France no workers’ councils existed. When this is the case, it is the duty of revolutionaries to conduct propaganda for their creation.
In Russia, in 1917, Workers’ Councils (soviets) did exist. On July 4, 1917, Lenin raised the slogan ‘All Power to the Soviets’. He ended his article with the words ‘things are moving by fits and starts towards a point where power will be transferred to the soviets, which is what our Party called for long ago’. Yet two months later, on September 12, he wrote: “The Bolsheviks, having obtained a majority in the soviets of workers’ and soldiers’ deputies of both capitals can and must take state power into their own hands”.
However one analyses Lenin’s transition, in the context of Russia in 1917, from a policy of ‘All Power to the Soviets’ to a policy of ‘All Power to the Bolshevik Party’, one must recognise that his choice was a fundamental one, whose implications for Britain in 1968 cannot be evaded.
The leading (i.e. decision-making) bodies in IS are very careful not to state explicitly that, like Lenin, they believe that the Party must take power on behalf of the class. This principle however runs through the entire Cliff-Birchall analysis of the French events. Their analysis is, in fact, tailored to fit this principle.
We say to these comrades: if you believe that the working class itself cannot ‘seize power’ (but that the Revolutionary Party must do it on behalf of the class), please say so openly and defend your views.
Let us put to you our own views on the subject. Political ‘power’ is fundamentally little more than the right to take and impose decisions in matters of social production, administration, etc. This authority is not to be confused with expertise. The experts give advice, they do not make the decisions. Today, during the development of the self-management revolution, it is precisely the authority of decision-making in relation to the management of production (whether the means of production be formally in the hands of private bosses or of the state) that is being challenged. The challenge is being repeated in all branches of social life.
Those who think in terms of ‘seizing power’ unwittingly accept that a political bureaucracy, separate from the producers themselves, and concentrating in its hands the authority of decision-making on fundamental issues of social production must be a permanent social institution. They believe its form (the bourgeois ‘state apparatus’) has to be changed. But they refuse to question the need for such a social institution. They want to capture political power and use it for allegedly different purposes. They do not consider its abolition to be on the agenda.
As for us, we believe that once self-management in production has been achieved, ‘political power’ as a social institution will lose both its social function and justification. To speak of ‘workers’ control’ and of ‘seizing political power’ is to confuse a new structure of society (the rule of the Workers’ Councils) with one of the by-products of the previous form of class society, which was based on withholding from the workers the right to manage.
Comrades Cliff and Birchall fail to recognise the specific, new features of the May events in France. They fail to explain why the students succeeded in inspiring 10 million workers. ‘The student demonstrations created an environment in which people were free to coin their own slogans’ (The Struggle Continues p.17) What slogans? The two most important were ‘Contestation’ and ‘Autogestion’ (self-management). What was being contested? What does self-management mean? How are the two slogans related to each other? Not a word on all this. What we do find however is the important statement – p.18 – that “when a worker went to the Sorbonne he was recognised as a hero. Within Renault he was only a thing. In the University he became a man”.
Comrades, you should seek to clarify this assessment (with which we agree). Please tell us what was the mysterious element in the ‘environment’ which transformed a man into a thing and vice-versa. Are we wrong in assuming that a man feels like a ‘thing’ when he has to live as an executant of social decisions which he cannot influence, whereas he feels like a ‘man’ when he lives under social circumstances which he has shaped by his own decisions (or in whose creation he was an equal partner)?
If this is really your opinion, why not say it in so many words?
But if this is really what you believe how could your Political Committee suggest an organisational regulation saying that:
Branches must accept directives from the Centre, unless they fundamentally disagree with them, in which case they should try to accord with them while demanding an open debate on the matter. – Perspectives for IS, September 12 1968
Isn’t the Political Committee attempting to transform IS members from ‘men’ into ‘things’? Isn’t the attempt to limit the right of rank-and-file IS members to initiate political decisions – while democratically permitting them to debate (not overrule!) the directives of the Centre, after having carried them out – an indication of an ideological disease more serious than being out of touch with the spirit of the young workers and students? If IS is to play a significant role in the revolution this regulation must be defeated, not only organisationally but also ideologically.
In the last chapter of their analysis of the French events, comrades Cliff and Birchall quote Trotsky to the effect that “unity in action of all sections of the proletariat, and simultaneity of demonstration under a single common slogan [Are these really essential? Did they ever exist in history?] can only be achieved if there is a genuine concentration of leadership in the hands of responsible [to whom?] central and local bodies, stable in their composition [!] and in their attitude to their political line”. (The Struggle Continues p.77)
This is to confuse the technical and political aspects of a real problem. Coordination is essential and may require centralisation. But the function of an administrative centre should not include the imposition of political decisions.
Trotsky’s argument (and Cliff’s) sound almost Stalinist. A centre “stable in its composition” concentrates in its hands the authority of political decision-making. “The branches must accept directives from the Centre”. The Party ‘leads’ the working class and ‘seizes power’ on its behalf. Workers are ‘summoned’ – p.78 – to an “open revolutionary assault on capitalism.” From this it is but a short leap to Trotsky’s statement that “the statutes should express the leadership’s organised distrust of the members, a distrust manifesting itself in vigilant control from above over the Party”.
This approach reveals a very definite view concerning the role of the Centre in relation to the Party and of the Party in relation to the class. But it is wrong to identify this view with Stalinism. It preceded Stalin, Lenin and Marx. As a matter of fact, it has been part of ruling class ideology for centuries.
Cliff and Birchall mobilise every possible argument to support the doctrine of ‘Centre leads the Party, Party leads class’. They write: “Facing the strictly centralised and disciplined power of the capitalists, there must be no less centralised and disciplined a combat organisation of the proletariat” (p.77). Yet two pages earlier they had admitted that “the 14th July 1789 revolution was a spontaneous act of the masses. The same was true of the Russian Revolution of 1905 and the February 1917 Revolution (p.74). In other words they admit that two of the most centralised regimes in history were overthrown by masses that were not led by any party, let alone a centralised one. How do they reconcile these facts with their assertion that “only a centralised party can overthrow centralised power”?
The conscious factor in changing history, embodied in revolutionary organisations, can play a significant role in shaping the new social structure. However after the Russian experience it is clear that this ‘conscious factor’ must develop its own self-consciousness. It must recognise the connection between its own structure and practice – and the type of socialism it will help achieve.
Writing in 1904 Lenin took sides unequivocally for ‘bureaucracy’ (as against democracy) and for ‘centralism’ (as against autonomy). He wrote: “Bureaucracy versus democracy is the same thing as centralism versus autonomism. It is the organisational principle of revolutionary political democracy as opposed to the organisational principle of the opportunists of Social Democracy. The latter want to proceed from the bottom upwards and, consequently, wherever possible and to the extent that it is possible, it supports autonomism and “democracy” which may (by the over-zealous) be carried as far as anarchism. The former proceeds from the top, and advocates an extension of the rights and power of the Centre in respect of the parts”.
With all due allowance to the objective factors which contributed to the degeneration of the Russian Revolution, these ideas (the conscious, subjective factor) must also be stressed, certainly in 1968.
We can only add here what Rosa Luxemburg, answering Lenin, said in 1904: “Let us speak plainly. Historically, the errors committed by a truly revolutionary working class movement are infinitely more fruitful and valuable than the infallibility of the cleverest Central Committee”.
Are these words less relevant in 1968 than they were in 1904?
Today in Britain the danger is not that future society will be shaped in the image of a bureaucratic revolutionary organisation based on “genuine concentration of leadership in the hands of responsible central and local bodies, stable in their composition”, organisation in which “branches must accept directives from the Centre”, etc. The danger is rather to such organisations themselves. They will cease to be relevant to the social self-management revolution now developing. Before long they will be identified as just other ‘centre-managed’ political bureaucracies, to be swept aside. This is the fate now threatening IS, should the Political Committee’s recommendations be accepted.
We wish all IS members a useful Conference and a serious discussion that will help them clarify their ideas about socialism, workers’ management and the structure and function of the revolutionary organisation.
This open letter was printed in the libertarian socialist paper Solidarity in September 1968.
The International Socialists was an internationalist organisation that was succeeded by the Socialist Workers' Party in 1977.
Reprinted from The Commune, pamphlet no. 2, October 2008
Μάης 1968, Εθνικοποίηση / Απαλλοτρίωση, Πολιτικά Κόμματα & Εργατικός Έλεγχος, Solidarity Group (UK), Εργατικός Έλεγχος, Εργατικά Συμβούλια, Μεγάλη Βρετανία, ΕυρώπηTopicΝαιΝαιNoΌχι -
English28/12/15In Argentina, the government attempted to ‘institutionalise’ the occupied factories, de- politicising the radical aspects of workers’ actions in exchange for financial and technical assistance.
In the last decade many Argentine enterprises became bankrupt, inspiring thousands of workers to take them over and resume production by forming cooperatives. In 2004, the Programme for Self-Managed Work became the instrument by which the government ‘institutionalised’ the takeovers, de- politicising the radical aspects of workers’ actions in exchange for financial and technical assistance in pursuit of workers’ objectives of job preservation and self-managed work.
The paper was given at the Policy & Politics International Conference ‘Reconnecting Policy and Politics’, 6-7 July 2006 - Bristol. The paper presents (i) preliminary findings from ongoing ESRC research project on ‘The Movement of the Unemployed in Argentina’ (RES-155 -25-0007) NGPA, LSE and (ii) findings from a previous research on social mobilisation and policy change in Argentina (2002-03).
Contents
Introduction
1) Why the Tomas? Background
2) Mapping Out the Tomas
3) From Confrontation to Integration: The ‘Programa de Trabajo Autogestionado’ (Programme for Self-Managed Work)
4) Towards the institutionalisation of radical forms of NGPA?
Conclusion
References
Notes
Introduction
Community responses to the social, political and economic effects of neoliberal reforms in Latin America during the 1990s have had a dissimilar impact on state institutions and policy making. In many cases, non-governmental public action (NGPA)1 led to institutional changes such as the creation of new departments, and the implementation of new social programmes aimed at both controlling mobilisation and responding to the needs of the disadvantaged sectors of society. As a result, a tendency towards the institutionalisation of what initially was the spontaneous action of social movements began to show. In Argentina, the factory takeovers (tomas) and recovery by their workers that took place in the late 1990s and the early part of the first decade of 2000s have been noteworthy among a variety of survival and political strategies by a range of social actors and groupings, which contributed to a renewal in policy making. During the late 1990s, on the verge of a deep economic crisis, many enterprises became bankrupt, or were abandoned by their owners who opted for financial speculation or investing abroad. The financial collapse of December 2001 accelerated the process, as even more factories/enterprises (F/Es) were closed, in many cases overnight, leaving behind unpaid wages and pension contributions, debts and obsolete machinery. This inspired around 8,000 workers from around 170 F/Es to take them over and resume production by forming co-operatives or other forms of self-management mainly in an effort to avoid unemployment, but also as a realisation of the principle of autonomy. Like no other form of collective action, the tomas received, from the outset, direct and explicit support from other social movements, but not from the government. Immediately following the crisis in 2002, the authorities sought to dismantle the tomas in a clear attempt to re-establish order, control the high degree of social mobilisation unleashed by the crisis and depoliticise them. As a result, workers were simultaneously involved in resisting ejection by the police and in legal procedures about the status of the takeovers and workers’ jobs. Later on, under President Weston Kirchner new programmes were launched with the intention to support workers’ co-operatives.
The period that followed the crisis of December 2001 inspired the analysis of new social movements and the ‘politics from below’. Commentators who studied factory takeovers looked at workers’ experience of management, control of the labour process, and new forms of industrial relations within the factories (Deledicque and Moser 2006, Fajn 2006, Fernandez Álvarez 2006, Parra M 2006, Buffa, Pensa and Roitman, 2006; Aiziczon, 2006); politics, resistance and mobilisation strategies (Fajn ed. 2003, Almagro 2006; Martinez, J 2003, Davolos and Perelman 2006), workers’ subjectivity (Fajn ed. 2003), and legal and political problems surrounding factory takeovers (Echaide 2004; Gigliani 2003, Martinez and Vocos 2002, Carpintero and Hernández 2002, Antón and Rebón 2006). On the whole, these studies have followed two distinct (sometimes opposing) lines of argument, conceiving of the tomas as either a survival strategy or as a tool for political change.
However, a more careful evaluation of the evidence suggests that the tomas have had both a fragmented defensive character (i.e. inspired by the need to preserve jobs) and an expansive political edge. Thus, on the one hand, it is true that the current tomas have little in common with the massive factory takeovers that took place in the late 1960s and early 1970s in Argentina and other Latin American countries, such as Chile in 1972 and Peru in 1967. While these had an offensive character, were led by a powerful central labour confederations and were part of a wider plan of resistance or political change,2 the current tomas have been organised by small groups of workers, who have been either non-unionised or represented and organised by a group of shopfloor representatives at the enterprise level (comisión interna), usually in opposition to or despite the union bureaucracy. The rationale behind the tomas in the usually small enterprises with obsolete machinery and technology has been the preservation of jobs. They have been patchily organised on the basis of practical needs rather than ideological or political strategies. On the other hand, factory takeovers have also been treated as part of a wider revolutionary strategy,particularly by those close to the political left, as part of what ought to be a wider workers’ struggle for the development of co-operative production, political solidarity and autonomy from the state in social policy. The stated objectives of some leaders within what rapidly emerged as a movement of recovered factories has been to revolutionise the system of employment relations within the factory, industrial relations within the political system, and the relationship between the factory and society.
While these existing studies of factory takeovers are highly relevant, their tendency to project the tomas in as either defensive or offensive has prevented a discussion about the ways in which workers’ actions and policy making have been shaping one another from the outset. A close investigation of the policies that emerged in the context of crisis enables us to grasp both the ways in which collective action shapes state policies and the new ways through which the state ‘filters’ social mobilisation and action. The election of President Nestor Kirchner in May 2003 brought about a re-evaluation, by both the government and the social movements (including, above all, by the factory occupants), of their mutual non-engagement. The new administration had managed to revitalise trustworthiness in democratic institutions and the system of political representation. They have done so by what some have viewed as Kirchner’s typically Peronist ‘top down’ strategy of recomposing political control – demobilising social movements by incorporating some of the demands put forward by the participative democratic organisations that followed the crisis of December 2001. Yet, the dismissive view of President Kirchner’s policies fails to grasp the considerable policy challenge the proposals of the new administration have given the workers involved in factory takeovers: whether they could be successful in shifting from negative struggles (protests, roadblocks, etc.) to more constructive activity aimed at being recognised as social partners in both the improvement of the economy through better management at the workplace (or neighbourhoods) and the productive engagement with policy makers.
The paper looks at the institutional response to factory takeovers, specifically the programme for Self-Managed Work (Programa de Trabajo Autogestionado, PTA) launched by the Employment Department in March 2004. The argument made in the paper is that the PTA has allowed a step forward to be taken towards the institutionalisation of the tomas, by which we mean the de-politicisation of workers’ actions in exchange for the recognition of their practical aspirations in the form of institutional help for workers to secure financial and technical support in order to pursue their stated objectives of attaining solidarity, autonomy and self-management through factory takeovers and recovery.
The paper falls into four sections. Section I offers a socio-economic background of the process of factory/enterprise takeovers – mass unemployment and the deterioration of labour conditions and social security during the 1990s, lack of adequate policies to support the unemployed and disadvantaged sectors, a deep transformation of hitherto powerful trade unions and their relationship with the state, and the crisis of December 2001, encapsulating both the financial collapse and the ensuing social mobilisation and political changes. Section II maps out the tomas,outlining their main features and providing examples and debates around them. Section III examines the political context and policy framework surrounding the emergence of new social and employment programmes, and discusses specifically the Programa de Trabajo Autogestionado (Programme for Self-Managed Work), launched by the Ministry of Labour in 2004 to support the tomas. The section present an assessment of the programme by the Ministerio de Trabajo, Empleo y Seguridad Social (MTEySS) and discusses the process of institutionalisation of the tomas by means of encouraging the ‘culture of work’ and solidarity within a context of unemployment, informality and crisis of union representation at the workplace, as well as by incorporating the collective and solidarity principles put forward by workers and supporters into policies rationale, and by penalising speculative activities by businesses in favour of production by workers. The conclusion discusses the ways in which the contested relationship between politics and policy asserts itself in post-neoliberal Argentina, brought into light by this particular case of NGPA. The rest of the introduction will present the methodology of the research carried out by the author.
The data presented comes from two main sources: the author’s ongoing ESRC project ‘The Movement of the Unemployed in Argentina’ ESRC NGPA, LSE and previous research carried out by the author in 2002-2003, dealing with popular mobilisation and political change in Argentina following the crisis of December 2001. The data in both research projects is based on qualitative methods, involving in-depth, semi-structured interviews with participants such as leaders and workers from a number of organisations of the unemployed and factory takeovers in Argentina and senior government functionaries involved in the policy making in the areas of labour and social policies. The reliability of information in all cases was assured by avoiding conflicts of interest and concerns over the anonymity of the subjects. Additional information was obtained from official statistics and surveys, as well as published and unpublished sources from the Ministry of Labour, Ministry of Social Development, pamphlets and other publications from social movements.
The main objective of the research carried out during 2002 and 2003 was to explore the ways in which new mobilisation strategies and forms of collective action impacted on the state institutions and policy making in Argentina. The research focused on three forms of non-governmental public action (NGPA): the organisations of the unemployed, factory takeovers and neighbourhood assemblies. In addition to a literature review, in-depth interviews and data from material produced by social movements and local and national governments on new social policies and employment programmes, non-academic material produced by these three movements was also used. The research highlighted that during the period following the crisis the relationship between social movements and the state was highly contested: whereas social movements embraced, albeit to different degrees, autonomy, and held a confrontational attitude towards the state, the government relied on repressive methods to control mobilisation. At the time of carrying out the research no specific social programmes had been launched to integrate the demands of the social movements into the policy (or political) agenda (the exception was the plan ‘Male and Female Unemployed Heads of Household’
The author’s ongoing NGPA ESRC project, which began in 2005, provides an opportunity to explore the impact of factory takeovers on the politics and policy making. Focusing on generating information and deeper understanding of the organisations of the unemployed in Argentina, it provides unique access to new data on institutional change and allows us to integrate it with previous data on the process of factory takeovers obtained in 2002-2003. Vital to this project are questions relating to the strategic orientation of the organisations of the unemployed aimed at influencing/impacting on and participating in the design and management of social and employment programmes. The questions from this research are naturally extended to factory takeovers, partly because these represent one of the many forms of organisation of the unemployed, but also because the Kirchner administration is challenging the dichotomy between autonomy and engagement with the state,which resulted from the crisis of December 2001, by providing incentives for all unemployed workers’ organisations to engage in autonomous, participative productive processes. The new data on policy making in support of factory takeovers allows to explore in detail the tendency towards the institutionalisation of this phenomenon by means of articulating workers’ aspirations for autonomy and a constructive engagement with the state.
There are some limitations of the data. Interviews with workers involved in factory takeovers (IMPA and Bruckman) were carried out in May and June 2002, with the intention of mapping out different forms of mobilisation and collective action in the period following the crisis. Interviews with senior civil servants at the Ministry of Labour and Social Development, also carried out during this period, showed that there were no new programmes launched to integrate demands into the political agenda. It was only in March and August 2005 that the interviews with senior civil servants carried out within the framework of the NGPA ESRC project supplied new information about new employment and social programmes, among them the Programme for SelfManaged Work (Programa de Trabajo Autogestionado, PTA). Following this, the discussion and data presented here allows an examination of the process of institutionalisation of the tomas, and an evaluation of this programme provided by the MTEySS. Yet, further research will be required to investigate the effects of the implementation PTA on the performance and general development of new co-operatives from the perspective of the workers and their organisations.
1) Why the Tomas? Background
Before exploring in detail the tomas, it is necessary to examine some of the structural transformations and the political atmosphere that underpinned workers’ decision to defend their jobs in this particular way.3 Four of them (inextricably interlocked) are relevant.
The first issue to consider is mass unemployment and the deterioration of labour conditions and social security during the 1990s. With the lack of adequate policies (see next point) unemployment was (is) highly risky and puts the unemployed in a very vulnerable position without state protection paving the way to what Castel (1997) has called ‘social disaffiliation.’ Workers involved in factory takeovers bear in mind the adverse ‘external’ situation. The core of the neo-liberal reforms was undertaken under the umbrella provided by the dollar-peso parity (convertibility) plan. Tight monetary policies stifled inflation but the reforms fostered destructive labour market conditions. By the second half of the 1990s, unemployment acquired a structural form, increasing from 6 to 18 percent in only four years (1991-1995). These double-digit rates were combined with the flexibilisation and casualisation of labour and the emergence of poverty as a ‘new social issue’ (Rosanvallon 1995).
The main problem was an explosive combination of unemployment with underemployment and informality. In 1996, 50.8 per cent of the economically active population was underemployed. Workers in the informal sector had come to constitute a large portion of the Argentina labour force. Participation in the informal sector increased from 47.5 per cent in 1990 to 52.5 per cent in 1994 (Feldman, 1999: 106). Following the devaluation of the peso in January 2002, the rise of 10.4 per cent in the consumer prices index and 19.4 per cent for wholesale prices in April 2002 (MECON, 2002: 2) perpetuated the decline in workers’ incomes and increased poverty. In addition, the rate of unemployment was at 21.8 per cent in February 2002. Seven million people fell under the poverty line between October 2001 and 2002, bringing the total to 21 million (out of a population of 37 million), ten million of these being destitute. Fifty seven per cent of Argentines did not have sufficient income to cover their basic needs.4 The situation was particularly severe in the North-west (Jujuy, Salta, La Rioja, Santiago del Estero and Tucumán) where these figures ascend to 69% and in the region of Cuyo (Mendoza, San Juan and San Luis) where they reach 61.3% (INDEC in La Nación 1.2.2003).
The lack of adequate policies to support the unemployed and disadvantaged sectors is the second factor contributing to the tomas. Historically, most social policies in Argentina had the worker as a subject of policies, particularly since 1945. Labour was constitutive of the notion of citizenship, with the latter being historically subsumed under the former. As a result, the development of social and employment policies relied on the notion of social justice that was linked with workers’ rights, rather than with more universal values, like in most of European democracies. The possibility that the interests and needs of those considered excluded or poor were extended to a vast majority of the population was achieved by a network of job security and full employment (Lo Vuolo et al 1999: 227) wherein the role of trade unions was of fundamental importance. The lack of a universal unemployment benefit and the implementation of ‘assistance’ policies for those not included in the labour market are examples of this (Barbeito and Lo Vuolo 1995).
The neo-liberal reforms contributed to the end of the link between labour and welfare as they weakened the institutional capacity to deliver social policy, following the well established Latin American pattern (Abel and Lewis, 2002; Tokman and O’Donell, 2001). The shift from national expansionist policies, which relied on the homogeneity of the highly qualified and employed working class, to IMF-imposed focused policies intensified the negative features of social policies (fragmentation, dependence on negotiations with corporations and reliance on the mobilisation capacity of disadvantaged sectors (Barbeito and Lo Vuolo, 1995)). Rather than based on universal criteria, they ‘naturalised’ inequality (Grassi et al 1994) and reinforced clientelistic relations (Rock, 2002; Auyero, 2000; López, 1997).
Unemployment, underemployment and increasing vulnerability of those at the margins of the labour market, the rationalisation of labour, the reduction of labour costs, mostly without any significant investment in new equipment (Bustos, 1995), the expansion of the informal economy, the casualisation of work, contributed to this. The link between economic growth and distribution of income towards full employment and workers’ welfare was broken. During the 1990s, there was a constant trend towards the concentration of wealth: whilst in 1991 10 percent of the poorest part of the population received 2.3 percent of national incomes, in 1997 the rate decreased to 1.6 percent. On the other hand, whilst the 10 percent richest people received 34.2 percent in 1991 the rate increased to 35.3 percent in 1997 (INDEC 24.3.97 on line). Real wages decreased 10 percent between 1994 and 1996. Wage reductions were made by means of ignoring national agreements with central unions and establishing precarious labour contracts. Between 1994 and 1996, labour costs were reduced by 16 percent on average in 17 branches of industry (Centre for the Study of Production, Página/12, 28.8.97: 14).
The government presented unemployment as a ‘new and significant state affair’ (MTEySS 1995), but it treated it as a temporary phenomenon without considering its social costs (Di Leo 2005). The rationale behind institutional changes and employment policies was to solve a seeming ‘paradox’ of successful economic policies and increased unemployment (Dinerstein 1999). These policies did not tackle the historical problem and created a vicious circle between unemployment and poverty: the competitive disadvantages of those already socially excluded to be reinserted into the labour market (see Feletti and Lozano, 1997). Patchy programmes only reinforced fragmentation and individualisation of the unemployed and the poor by age, sex and geographical area. As work became more scarce, the absence of universal employment policy resulted in greater corruption, paternalism and clientelistic relations. Considering the lack of a universal unemployment benefit, the allocation of employment and social programmes were used by the central government as a form of political compensation or punishment to those governors who were or were not accomplishing the economic adjustment required by the IMF; and by governors to favour political allies before elections or to co-opt unions.
The third issue that constitutes the background for the tomas was the transformation of hitherto powerful trade unions and their relationship with the state. In the latter half of the 1990s neo-liberal policies were successful in breaking the strong and well developed social insurance institutions and corporate power of trade unions. The fact that most of the takeovers occurred spontaneously after a decision made in an assembly by non-unionised workers showed the weakening of the long tradition of working class organisations and their role as key actors in the institutionalisation of industrial conflict and political mobilisation.
After the deconstruction of the institutional role of trade unions, policy depended more than ever on the capacity of marginal sectors to mobilise and demand assistance policies (see Barbeito and Lo Vuolo 1995). Rather than achieving the depoliticisation of policy-making surrounding work and employment by emasculating the trade unions, the effect of reforms was to unleash new social actors who have sought to make the issues political. Since the second half of the 1990s, as entire localities were affected by neo-liberal state reforms and company closures, the unemployed and the wider communities in which they lived came to form new organisations voicing opposition or actively resisting these developments. The result has been that between the late 1990s and early 2000s there was a remarkable rise in the non-institutionalised mobilisation and organisation of unemployed workers and other disadvantaged sectors of society at the local and national level.
The crisis of December 2001 constitutes the fourth element which contributed to the tomas in two ways. First, the takeovers were driven by the bankruptcy, ‘emptying’ or abandonment of the factories by their owners. In December 2001 the country’s economy collapsed producing the biggest default in world economic history. Although the financial collapse was triggered by the IMF’s refusal to give Argentina an informally agreed loan of $1.26 billion, it had its root in long term processes which cannot be addressed here. Suffice it to say that structural adjustment facilitated the concentration of capital, the destruction of national industry and a climate of impunity whereby many entrepreneurs during the 1990s partook in including financial speculation, corruption, bribery, disrespect for labour legislation and the law in general. Secondly, although the factory takeovers did not start in December 2001, most of them were embedded in the political atmosphere of mobilisation and social rebellion which culminated in December 2001, when popular mobilisation forced the resignation of the national authorities. Protesters demanded ‘¡que se vayan todos!’ (Out with them all!), took direct and radical forms of action and rejected representative democracy and politics. The crisis made apparent the deterioration of the system of democratic representation weakened by the corruption of the political elite and the lack of democratic controls over capital. Factory takeovers were among a variety of groups and movements which aimed to recover autonomy and solidarity such as neighbourhood assemblies, unemployed workers’ self-help alternatives among others.
2) Mapping Out the Tomas
Research carried out by the Department of Employment identified and mapped out 161 F/Es at the end of 2004 and 175 in 2005. The MTEySS classified them according to localisation, type of activity and branch of industry, legal form adopted, their assets and labour conditions (MTEySS, 2004). From the available data we can summarise the following:
2.1 Geographical location
Most of the F/Es are located in areas where industry traditionally has been concentrated, the two key areas of which are the province of Buenos Aires (56 per cent) and the city of Buenos Aires (16 per cent).
2.2 Industry
Approximately half of the F/Es are concentrated in four main sectors: metallurgy (including machine building and electromechanical), food processing, meat packing and printing industries.
2.3 Whether F/Es currently in productive activity.
Only 73 per cent are currently producing goods and services. Of these, most operate at only a fraction of the full capacity (in relation to the volumes produced before the crisis), primarily as a result of a lack of capital investment, poor labour utilisation and/or the weaknesses of management. In addition
there are difficulties in the marketing of the products and capacity to compete in national markets (MTEySS, 2004b). Efforts are directed at establishing new minimum conditions for production and decision-making, overhauling of the work-space, machinery and equipment, re-establishing services that have been cut off, as well as settling legal arrangements and negotiating with the government and creditors, clients and suppliers.
2.4 Legal form adopted
Most F/Es adopted the legal form of a co-operative (147 out of 161 identified by the MTEySS).
2.5 Ownership of and access to tomas assets
Access to premises, administrative resources and information, and the use of working equipment depended on negotiations between owners, magistrates and workers in each F/E (MTEySS 2004b).
2.6 Wages and working conditions
Many of the F/Es face appalling working conditions including: a variety of risks derived from the bad state of the buildings and equipment due to years of neglect, absence of investment or asset stripping. Workers’ incomes have varied according to the profits of and wage distribution within the enterprises. In many cases wages are below those established by the Collective Agreements in the respective branch of industry, although in some cases they parallel the norm. The majority of the occupied F/Es have adopted an egalitarian wage structure but with only a few exceptions, workers do not enjoy social insurance and security.
2.7 The historical distinctiveness of the tomas and debates
As argued in the introduction, the present tomas differ in some important respects from earlier examples of workers’ factory takeovers. They have been organised spontaneously by the workers employed at the factories or other enterprises, have usually involved non-unionised or un-represented workers, who had been organised by a group of shop-floor representatives set-up directly at the enterprise level (comisión interna), usually in opposition to or despite the official union structures. The rationale behind the tomas has been mainly about the preservation of jobs, with workers entrenching themselves in factories and physically occupying them, resisting ejection by the police, often in the face of imminent or actual closure. Thus, workers have had to develop co-operative relations, engender solidarity and seek autonomy as a result of practical needs, rather than a predefined ideological or political strategy
Two examples illustrate the above points. The first one is provided by the takeover of the Metallurgical and Plastic Industry of Argentina (IMPA) in 1997. Located in the neighbourhood of Almagro, city of Buenos Aires, IMPA was created in 1918 by German capital, nationalised in 1946 by the Peronist government and transformed into a workers’ co-operative in 1961. Initially a copper and aluminium smelter, it expanded after its nationalisation to manufacture a number of products, from airplane fuselages to bicycles, in three plants with a total of 3,000 workers. In 1961, attempts to privatise the company ended in the closing of two plants and the transformation of the Almagro plant into a co-operative. In 1997, the managers of the co-operative, without consulting workers, who were in this case partners, declared bankruptcy and closed its doors. Despite the fact that workers were neither unionised nor involved in the decision-making process of the factory, thebegan, on May 5 1998, a four-month struggle to maintain their jobs. During the struggle workers established close links with neighbours and social organisations who helped them in many ways to survive both the period of the factory takeover and the beginning of the reopening of the production system The 136 workers of the new company eliminated wage differences and introduced industrial democracy within the factory. They were not unionised (insofar as they were in opposition to the leadership of the Metallurgic Workers’ Union (Union Obrera Metalurgica, UOM), but had a good relationship with other unions. IMPA became part of a National Movement of Recovered Factories (Movimento National de Empresas Recuperadas, MER).5
Another example is provided by the garment factory Brukman Confecciones, occupied and recovered by its 54 workers, mostly women, on December 18, 2001. The factory was abandoned by its patron, leaving workers with overdue wages and pensions and appalling working conditions. This plant, located on Jujuy Avenue neighbourhood of Once, city of Buenos Aires, was the only one left after the Brukman brothers went bankrupt and closed the other two factories (electric home supplies and construction), leaving workers in the streets. In September 2000 the company was declared bankrupt too. It was literally abandoned. The patron did not attend any of the legal hearings demanded by the Ministry of Labour. The government designated an administrator. The factory was finally indebted by its owners by means of taking excessive credit, in this case, more than five million pesos. The debt amounted to more than 3.8 million pesos (1.8 million of it was fiscal debt to the Tax Office (Dirección General Impositiva, DGI), 243,000 dollars to Banco Nación and more than one million debt to the city council). Workers were paid in negro, that is with no pension contribution or any kind of social security (Brukman Workers 2003). Although workers were not unionised, decision to occupy the factory and stay over at the factory in order to defend their jobs was made in an spontaneous workers’ assembly.
The takeover was a challenge not only in terms of the reorganisation of production, creating a labour collective and resisting ejection. Initially, workers eliminated administrative posts and started rotating tasks among them. Brukman’s workers demanded that the Buenos Aires City Council expropriate the factory from its owners and allow workers to resume production under their control and self-management. This included the annulment of all previous debt (or its absorption by the state): ‘workers should not endure the burden produced by the ineptitude or inefficiency of the patronal’ (see project 0282D- 2002, MP Altamira, April 2002).
Workers sought for the factory to become the main provider of garments for the public sector, expanding the making of suits to a variety of textile products such as bedding for hospitals, children’s school uniforms, etc.). They also aimed to create jobs for the unemployed and those working under precarious conditions (Krakowiak 2002). They rejected the co-operative form, as it did not allow for expropriation exclusive of debt (Brukman Workers 2003). After a hard legal and physical struggle in October 2003, the City Council of Buenos Aires passed new legislation to expropriate the factory owners and enable workers occupying it to assume control. This was a collective political accomplishment which required Parliamentary intervention.6
These examples show distinct political approaches and legal solutions that could empower workers. At least two approaches towards formal takeover and recovery are prominent: those which embrace the new co-operative movement and those which utilise the tomas as a tool for the development of workers autonomy within a broader political strategy of liberation. These discrepancies are reflected in several organisations that make up the F/Es. 7
With the exception of a small number, most of the occupied factories have resumed their production under the form of workers’ co-operatives, under the umbrella provided by the National Movement of Recovered Enterprises (Movimiento Nacional de Empresas Recuperadas, MNER)8, their slogan being ‘Occupy, Resist, Produce!’.9 Supported by some sectors of the Catholic Church (those concerned with eradicating poverty and unemployment), and the Argentine Workers Central (Central de Trabajadores Argentinos, CTA), the MNER offers legal support and political lobbying to deal with company debt, the establishment of co-operatives out of a bankrupt company, and strategies for resisting former owners’ use of the police and the law in attempts to evict workers from the factories. The co-operative strategy is accompanied by micro-ventures with other social movements such as the Movement of the Unemployed, directed at the creation an economy of solidarity, autonomous from the state. Co-operatives have been successful in the more labour intensive sectors of the economy and those industries where the quality of the product depends on the creativity and dedication of the workers and a highlevel of workers’ involvement in the company’s development (Krakowiak 2002). To those who belong to the Co-operative Movement, as it has become known, the recovering of factories is a strategy to maintain their jobs and thus avoid unemployment. As for the organisation of production and administrative and legal forms, the co-operative represents for them the best legal form allowing the independence from the state and the development of new autonomous and co-operative relations at the work place.
In an attempt to differentiate themselves from the ‘traditional co-operative movement’, which would have contravened solidarity principles by transforming the companies into public limited companies, advocates of this new co-operativism claim that recovered factories are ‘tools of resistance’ (Workers CTA Congress, n/d. unpublished document). They also reject the confusion which associates the co-operative movement with self-employment and subsistence production, the latter being survival strategies rather than tools for social change. According to this sector recovered factories allow thedevelopment of solidarity relations. The takeover is seen as a learning process based on co-operation, democracy and equal distribution of income, which has the potential to lead to the creation of new institutional and social relations.
In contrast to the co-operativist approach, a small group of factories have been recovered using a strategy enthusiastically advocated by most sectors of the political left10 – workers’ self-management with the demand for the nationalisation of the enterprise by the state.11 Factory takeovers are seen as part of a wider revolutionary strategy, a wider struggle for socialism, which believes in the demand of workers’ management with state intervention. Unlike co-operatives, direct workers’ management or workers’ control (of production and administration), following the nationalisation (estatización) of the factory in question, allows, according to this view, the implementation of a ‘non-reformist reform’.
To them, the major disadvantage of co-operatives is that they do not escape the logic of the capitalist system: the factory must compete in the market with the rest. This means that wages, the pace of production and working conditions are always at stake. The main problems are the lack of capital to buy raw materials and supplies to stimulate production, and the company indebtedness, compromising the production plans and leading to a reduction of salaries to levels well below the national average (self-exploitation) all to repay the debts.
They argue that the main difference between these two projects lies in that, whereas in the co-operative movement, the co-operative and workers’ selfmanagement are ends in themselves, in the proposal for self-management and workers’ control with demands for state ownership, this is a transitional measure which aims to accompany a wider process of liberation. Whereas in the former case workers’ ‘autonomy’ is limited to the whims of the market, in the latter workers’ control allows the experience of self-management but recognises that there is no possibility of real control unless the capitalist social relations of exploitation are altogether eliminated. Otherwise, these self-management experiments cannot be more than momentary illusions of hope and are destined to fail (Martinez J 2003).
3) From Confrontation to Integration: The ‘Programa de Trabajo Autogestionado’ (Programme for Self-Managed Work)
The Programme for Self-Managed Work (PTA) was launched by the Department of Employment in March 2004 (Decree 194) within the framework ‘Plan for the Promotion of Employment: More and Better Jobs’ (Plan Integral para la Promoción de Empleo: Más y Mejor Trabajo). The PTA is regarded by senior managers as an ‘institutional response to a diversity of demands by employees of enterprises and factories involved in the process of recovering of plants’ (MTEySS, Interview 1, 16.8.05). For programme managers, the PTA has the intention to
strengthen self-management by providing a range of services from advice to technical and financial assistance to concrete projects to be achieved in the short and medium term (MTEySS Interview 1, 16.8.05).
The Programme consists of five types of assistance.12
1. Financial help of 150 pesos (£30) to individuals for a maximum period of six months if they do not enjoy any other benefit. The idea here is to support workers who are resisting ejection and are in ‘stand by’ (MTEySS Interview 1), that is between being unemployed and employed.13
2-5. The allocation of 500 pesos per worker (maximum of 50,000 pesos) to the ‘productive unit’ for (i) technical assistance and training; (ii) the purchase of raw material, inputs, tools, equipment or repairing or put in motion old machinery (iii) technical assistance with installation of equipment and machinery and (iv) Support for the expansion of the F/Es and their consolidation in the market by providing funds to pay for the costs of the expansion such as legal certificates, permits and so on.
The creation of collective projects is encouraged by a recently created register (Registro de Efectores de Desarrollo Local y Economia Social),14 which allows workers involved in co-operatives or collective projects to be tax exempted for a two-year period to help low income workers in vulnerable situations (MTEySS, Interview 3, 2005).
3.1 Programme evaluation
Two assessments by the MTEySS (2004 and 2005) show some of the effects of the programme. Among other things, they illustrate that programme managers consider it to be successful. According to them, the PTA must act primarily as an institutional articulator, in order to solve specific situations that come up in each case. Progress was made in liaising with public and private bodies which would be able to provide technical or financial assistance to F/Es. The programme helped workers to reorganise production and the labour force and assisted them in the preparation of business plans, in repairing inadequate old machinery and in refurbishing buildings to meet legal requirements, and increase production levels and commercialisation of products, improve quality and reduce costs. It also assisted in purchasing new equipment so as to diversify production, reinvest in capital assets and improve safety at work and environmental conditions within the factory.
The agreements constitute the tool through which the MTEySS and the F/E in question engaged in a venture with the purpose of implementing the project proposed by workers, previously approved by the PTA. Tables A3.1, A3.2, A3.3 and A3.4. included in Appendix 3 describes the distribution of
agreements by region, sector, and the use to which the funds were put in 2004 and 2005. By October 2004, 28 agreements had been reached between the F/Es and the state for 29 F/Es (two enterprises sharing the same productive unit), 17 per cent of units identified. These agreements affected 24 per cent, that is 1,726 of workers (MTEySS, 2004b). The programme spent 615,460.96 pesos, i.e. 55 per cent of the amount assigned to 2004, and 39 per cent of the total programme budget of almost three million pesos (MTEySS, 2004b). More agreements were concluded during the following year. By the end of 2005, 38 per cent of the 175 F/Es (that is 67 units) reached an agreement with the state, incorporating 3,907 workers (that is 49 per cent of the estimated total of workers involved) (MTEySS, 2005a).
According to programme managers, the dissemination of the programme –via individual contacts or existing organisations – was key to the success of the programme. They attributed this partly to the fact mayors in the area in which the F/Es were located have received information about the programme. Dissemination activities also included the organisation of the ‘National Exhibition of Factories and Recovered Enterprises’ organised by the programme on April 29, 30 and May 1 2005 in the city of Buenos Aires, with the participation of 89 F/Es and more than 6,000 workers. The exhibition was sponsored by the city council and consisted of a series of conferences, business rounds, and stands where each co-operative could show their products, and speak about their experience. The idea was to ‘facilitate the dissemination of the F/Es activities, contribute to their commercial development and help them to make contacts with potential clients.’(MTEySS 2005c)
3.2 Distribution of agreements between F/Es and the State (2004 and 2005)
According to programme managers, the dissemination of the programme – done via individual contacts or through the existent organisations – was succesful as the majority of F/Es had received information about the programme. Dissemination activities included the organisation of the ‘National Exhibition of Factories and Recovered Enterprises’ organised by the programme on April 29, 30 and May 1 2005 in the city of Buenos Aires, with the participation of 89 F/Es and more than 6,000 workers. The exhibition was sponsored by the City Council and consisted of a series of conferences, business rounds, and stands where each co-operative could show their products, and speak about their experience. The idea was to ‘facilitate the dissemination of the F/Es activities, contribute to their commercial development and help them to make contacts with potential clients (MTEySS 2005c).
4) Towards the institutionalisation of radical forms of NGPA?
The PTA has fostered a degree of institutionalisation of workers’ radical action entailed in the tomas, no longer projecting them as unusual, reserved for times of crisis, but as embedded within the state agenda. Institutionalisation does not mean that state coercion and sources of conflict between workers and the state are eradicated. The instruments of coercion remain latent in the state’s monopoly on force, so ‘workers consent because they are always coerced’… (Hoffman, 1984: 85). Rather, institutionalisation means the ‘structuring’ of workers’ action by the state (Piven and Cloward 1977) and implies a controlling character which facilitates the transformation of coercion into consent, by finding areas of agreement between social and labour movements and the state on which to work new and stable channels of dialogue and participation. As Meyer and Tarrow (1998: 21) highlight
institutionalization is defined by the creation of a repeatable process that is essentially self-sustaining …; it is one in which all relevant actors can resort to well established and familiar routines. For political movements, institutionalization denotes the end of the sense of unlimited possibility… ...it means the end of the uncertainty and instability that can result when unknown actors engage in uncontrollable forms of action.
The political and economic crisis made apparent the negative impact of neo-liberal policies on democracy, fostering the mobilisation of traditional and new actors. Following similar developments in the rest of Latin America, the appointment of President Kirchner in May 2003 revealed the government’s intention to restablish a more sound relationship with civil society and to ‘repair’ the damage caused by neo-liberal reforms. Unlike the preceding administration, whose general attitude towards social movements was hostile, the present government has publicly acknowledged that solving the problem of unemployment, poverty and the deterioration of labour market conditions requires a renewed dialogue with non-governmental organisations as a precondition of political stability and economic growth.
The tendency towards the institutionalisation of the tomas commenced within a wider political climate and policy framework, celebrated by many social movements whose priorities are (i) encouraging the ‘culture of work’ and solidarity within a context of unemployment, informality and crisis of union representation at the workplace; (ii) acting on the principles of collectivism and solidarity put forward by the workers and their supporters; and (iii) punishing speculative behaviour by investors at the expense of the workers.
First, the programme was launched in a context of high underemployment, unemployment and worsening labour conditions. Thus, in addition to ameliorating the effects of unemployment and creating jobs, PTA managers argue that the programme will help co-operatives to defend ‘dignified work’ and recover skills in trades being threatened with extinction (such as glass making)’ (MTEySS, Interview 1, 16.8.05). The programme matches the government’s intention to create a new policy ethos, central to which is the promotion of bottom-up decision-making processes and the encouragement of the principles of the ‘social economy’ (MDS, 2004; MDS, Interview 1, 5.9.05) embraced by the tomas: ‘we are thinking of policy from below… taking on board the social knowledge of the population’ (MDS, 2005: 15; see Dinerstein, 2006).
Second, although all forms of workers’ management are welcome, the majority of the ‘assisted companies’ became co-operatives. According to the MTEySS report, there are two possible reasons for this: (i) Co-operatives are ‘more compatible with the need to reach consensus and set common goals, as well as manage expectations and go ahead with the decision making process in difficult and unusual conditions’ (MTEySS, 2004). (ii) This legal form is encouraged by a new legislation on bankruptcy (Art. N° 190, Ley de Concursos y Quiebras no 24.522), which establishes that magistrates can allow workers to continue with the production of goods and services of the enterprise at stake until the legal declaration of bankruptcy, on condition that workers present a project and organisation plan under the form of workers’ cooperatives.
Third, expropriation, demanded by workers, has also been the government’s tool to help new co-operatives. Although some of the F/Es genuinely became bankrupt, many others staged fraudulent bankruptcies (quiebras) and drained factories of a variety of resources. Whereas in the former case bankruptcy is the culmination of a process of deterioration and indebtedness – a normal consequence of the crisis – in the latter it is the culmination of a process of emptying of the company by seemingly accumulating debt with fictitious creditors, non-declaration of assets and assetstripping, destruction of the inventory by bribing functionaries in charge of accounting control (Fajn, 2003: 34-35), all of which was achievable in the climate of impunity in which entrepreneurs operated during the 1990s. In the latter cases, the magistrates have ruled in favour of workers’ co-operatives expropriating the F/Es, their furniture, machinery and installations, by declaring the F/Es and their assets as ‘public goods.’ By the end of 2004, there were 52 factories expropriated from their owners.
Conclusions
This paper has focussed on the institutional impact of radical forms of NGPA in Argentina, where NGPA is defined as ‘action with collective public purposes, such as self-help and community-based alternatives towards poverty alleviation, job creation and social transformation, undertaken by traditional and non-traditional actors, ranging from NGOs to unions and new social movements.’ The paper discussed the Programa de Trabajo Autogestionado, PTA, launched by the Department of Employment in 2004 with the intention of supporting technically and financially workers’ co-operatives which emerged out of the process of factory takeover and recovering in the late 1990s and early part of the first decade of 2000s.
The aim has been to show that PTA emerged neither as a result of policy innovation ‘from above’ or as a result of struggles ‘from below’. Rather it represents the crystallisation of the contested relationship between labour and social organisations and the state, specifically, between workers involved in factory takeovers and the government within the context of the aftermath of the crisis in Argentina. It was shown that, first, social and labour movements’ strategic orientations cannot be completely understood without considering governmental action. As Gough and Wood note,
the ways in which the state might seek to organise and reorganise its population for convenient, limited policy concessions can itself produce new solidarities and social bases for critical and social action (Gough and Wood, 2004: 322).
Second, the state is not a deus ex machina above society but the political form of capitalist social relations and, as such, the political arena where different interests are confronted and through which institutional and actor’ strategies are deployed and reshaped. Social actors’ acceptance, collaboration with, resistance to, alternative proposals to policy reforms (or several of these simultaneously), may produce changes in state institutions and policies themselves, as governments seek to achieve order, stability and a certain degree of consensus. From this perspective, although the state cannot resolve the contradictions inherent in capitalist societies, it can, nevertheless, ‘contain the political impact of those contradictions’ (Clarke, 1992: 136) through policymaking.
The PTA reflects both a renewal in policy making and a change in the attitude of the movement of factory occupations, which have held a positive disposition towards institutional support to develop autonomy and selfmanagement. On the one hand, the government’s approach to social movements aims at depoliticising radical action by ‘assisting’ the workers and making their needs a priority in a way that absorbs their ethos of social policy from below.16 The PTA pre-empts the political meaning of the tomas and celebrates them as innovative survival strategies. On the other hand, the majority of the takeovers did not follow a political strategy led by unions or political parties. Their political edge stems from vulnerable employment situations and has been strategically oriented towards building collective projects and pursuing organisational goals aimed at the consolidation of the movement of recovered factories for practical reasons.
The PTA stimulates the process of institutionalisation of the tomas by providing financial and technical support to workers’ co-operatives within a broad policy framework which encouraged the return to the culture of work, promotes bottom-up decision-making processes, embraces the principles of ‘social economy’, and punishes anti-social corporate behaviour. As mentioned in the introduction, the tomas have had both a defensive character inspired by the need to preserve jobs and an expansive political edge inspired by ideas of autonomy produced by the political crisis in Argentina in 2001. By ‘institutionalisation’ of the tomas we meant that the most challenging and radical aspects of workers’ actions are discouraged by the state. As the tomas are accepted and habitualised, they are depoliticised and restricted to the purpose of the recovering factories rather than making them an element of the ‘struggle for liberation’ anticipated by many workers. As Piven and Cloward (1977: 32 and 33) propose,
…concessions are rarely unencumbered. If they are given at all, they are usually part and parcel of measures to reintegrate the movement into normal political channels and to absorb its leaders into stable institutional roles … At the same time that the government makes efforts to reintegrate disaffected groups, and to guide them into less politically disturbing forms of behaviours, it also moves to isolate them from supporters.
Paradoxically, the depoliticisation of the tomas by means of their institutionalisation through financial and technical support for the factories occurs simultaneously with the institutional recognition of the workers’ political stated objectives of autonomy and self-management.
References
Abel, C. and Lewis, C. (2002) ‘Exclusion and Engagement: A Diagnosis of Social Policy in Latin America in the Long Run’ in Abel, C. and Lewis, C. (eds.) Exclusion and Engagement. Social Policy in Latin America, ISAS, London: 3-53
Aiziczon Fernando 2006 ‘Teoría y práctica del control Obrero: el caso de
Cerámicas Zanón’ Herramienta 31: 101-126, Buenos Aires. Almagro Adriana ‘C operativa Chilavert: introductiono’, Labour Again, http://www.iisg.nl/labouragain/documents/cooperativa-chilavert.pdf
Antón Gustavo and Julián Rebón, El Conocimiento en los Procesos Sociales. Una aproximación a la conciencia de clase operante entre los trabajadores de Empresas Recuperadas’, Labour Again, http://www.iisg.nl/labouragain/documents/anton_rebon.pdf, 2006
Barbeito, A. and Lo Vuolo, R. (1995) La Modernización Excluyente. Transformación Económica y Estado de Bienestar en Argentina, UNICEF/CIEPP/Losada, Buenos Aires.
Brukman Workers (2003) ‘Nosotros tenemos una propuesta’, Indymedia,
http://argentina.indymedia.org/news/2003/05/107540.php
Bruckman 1, Interview , 14.6.02 , Buenos Aires
Bruckman 2, Interview 14.6.02 , Buenos Aires
Buffa Adolfo, Dalmira Pensa, Susana Roitman, ‘Democratización laboral en Empresas Recuperadas de Córdoba: aproximaciones a un estudio comparativo’, Labour Again, http://www.iisg.nl/labouragain/documents/buffa_pensa_roitman.pdf, access January 2006
Carpintero E and Hernández M 2002 Eds. Produciendo realidad. Las Empresas Comunitarias, TOPIA, Colección FICHAS, Buenos Aires
Castel, R. (1997) La metamorfosis de la nueva cuestión social, Paidos, Buenos Aires.
Clarke, S. (1992) ‘The Global Accumulation of Capital and the Periodisation of the Capitalist State Form’ in Bonefeld, W. et al (1992) Open Marxism, Vol. I: 133-179.
Cotarelo M C and Fernández F 1994 ‘La toma de fábricas argentinas, 1964’, PIMSA, Documentos y Comunicaciones no. 2: 7-28, Buenos Aires
Deledicque, Luciana and Moser, Juliana ‘El proceso de trabajo en empresas recuperadas. La Unión Papelera Platense: Un estudio de caso’ LabourAgain on line publications http://www.iisg.nl/labouragain/documents/melina_moser.pdf, Access: 10.5.06
Davolos Patricia and Perelman Laura, ‘Acción colectiva y representaciones sociales: los trabajadores de empresas recuperadas’, Labour Again, http://www.iisg.nl/labouragain/documents/davolos_perelman.pdf, Access April 2006
Di Leo, P. (2005) “Plan Jefes y Jefas de Hogar Desocupados” y régimen social de acumulación neo-liberal : una aproximación a sus articulaciones político-simbólicas y estructurales, IDEP CTA, accessed 15.6. 2005, http://www.cta.org.ar/instituto/index.shtml
Dinerstein, A 2006 ‘The Politics of Policy. Unemployment, the Unemployed Workers Organisations and Employment Policy Reforms in Argentina (1991-2005)’ (unpublished)
Dinerstein, AC. (2004) ‘Más allá de la crisis. La naturaleza del cambio político en Argentina’ Revista Venezolana de Economia y Ciencias Sociales, Central University of Caracas, Caracas no. 1 /2004, January : 241-270.
Dinerstein, AC. (2003) ‘Que se vayan todos!’ Popular Insurrection and the Asambleas Barriales in Argentina, Bulletin of Latin American Research, Vol. 22 no 2 April 2003: 187-200
Dinerstein, AC. (1999) ‘The Violence of Stability: Argentina in the 1990s’ in Neary M (ed.) Global Humanisation: Studies in the Manufacture of Labour, Mansell, London New York, 46-75
Echaide Javier 2004 Debate sobre las empresas recuperadas. Un aporte desde lo legal, lo jurídico y lo político, Centro Cultural de la Cooperación, Cuaderno de Trabajo no 25, Buenos Aires
Fajn Gabriel (ed.) 2003 Protesta Social, autogestión y rupturas en la subjetividad, Centro Cultural de la Cooperación, Buenos Aires
Fajn Gabriel 2006 ‘Fabricas Recuperadas: la organización en cuestión’,
Labour Again http://www.iisg.nl/labouragain/documents/fajn.pdf, access May 2006
Fernández Álvarez María 2006 ‘Proceso de trabajo y fábricas recuperadas: algunas reflexiones a partir de un caso de la Cuidad de Buenos Aires’, Labour Again. http://www.iisg.nl/labouragain/documents/fernandezalvarez.pdf, Access may 2006
Hauser Irina 2003 ‘Las fábricas recuperadas hacen política’ Pagina/12, 7.9.03, http://www.pagina12.com.ar/diario/elpais/1-25153-2003-09-07.html. Access 20.6.06
Hoffman, J (1984) The Gramcian Challenge. Coercion and Consent in Marxist Political theory, Basil Blackwell
Ghibaudi Javier ‘Una aproximación comparativa a las empresas recuperadas argentinas y las autogeridas en Brasil’, Labour Again, http://www.iisg.nl/labouragain/documents/ghibaudi.pdf
Gigliani P 2003 ‘L’Occupazione delle fabbriche nella Argentina’ Proteo no 1, Rome
Gil Domínguez A 2002 ‘La Corte Suprema: el poder cuestionado’, Todo es Historia 418: 6-22
Gough, I. and Wood, G. (2004) (eds.) Insecurity and Welfare Regimes in Asia, Africa and Latin America, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.
Hoffman, J. (1984) The Gramscian Challenge. Coercion and Consent in Marxist Political theory, Basil Blackwell.
IMPA 1: Interview with Alberto Murua, Executive Secretary to MNER, 27.6.02, Buenos Aires.
IMPA 2: Interview with Carlos Carrizo, President of IMPA, 27.6.02, Buenos Aires.
Krakowiak F 2002 ‘Capitalismo popular de obreros’ Página/12, CASH, 16.6.2002, pp: 4-5.
Martinez J 2003 ‘Fábricas ocupadas y gestión obrera directa. Apuntes para una reflexión histórica y teórica’ Cuadernos del Sur 34, Buenos Aires: 47-72.
Martinez O and Vocos F 2002 ‘Las empresas recuperadas por los
trabajadores y el movimiento obrero’ in Carpintero and Hernández 2002 eds.: Produciendo realidad…Op. Cit. 77-85. Also at http://www.iisg.nl/labouragain/documents/martinez_vocos.pdf
MDS (2005) Plan Nacional de desarrollo Local y Economía Social Manos a la Obra Documento No. 2, Buenos Aires
MDS (2004) Lineamientos de Políticas Sociales 2004, Document No 1, August, Buenos Aires
MDS 1 Interview with Maria Vollmer, 5.9.05, Department of Social Economy, MDS, Buenos Aires.
MECON 2002 ‘The argentine economy during the second quarter of 2002 and its recent evolution’, Summary from Informe Económico No 2, Ministry of Economics, Buenos Aires, http://www.mecon.gov.ar/report/intro42ing.pdf, access January 22 2007. See complete Spanish version at http://www.mecon.gov.ar/informe/informe42/indice.htm
Meyer, D. and Tarrow, S. (1998) (eds.) The Social Movement Society, Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Lanham – New York.
MTEySS n/d, Registro de Unidades productivas Autogestionadas por los Trabajadores, Plan Integral Mas y Mejor Trabajo, Buenos Aires
MTEySS (2005a) Evaluación del Programa de Trabajo Autogestionado, Buenos Aires.
MTEySS (2005b) Guía 2005 de Empresas y Fabricas recuperadas Autogestionadas por sus trabajadores, PTA, Secretaria de Empleo, MTEySS, Buenos Aires.
MTEySS (2005c) Catálogo de Expositores de la Primera Exposición Nacional de Empresas y Fábricas Recuperadas Autogestionadas por sus trabajadores, 29-1 April, Buenos Aires.
MTEySS (2004a) Programa de Trabajo Autogestionado, Guía Orientativa para completar el formulario de presentación de propuestas. Buenos Aires
MTEySS (2004b) Evaluación del Programa de Trabajo Autogestionado, Buenos Aires. Acta No. 194, 31.3.04, MTEySS, Buenos Aires.
MTEySS 1 Interview with Maria Villabrille, 16.8.05, Interview with the Coordinator of the Programa de Trabajo Autogestionado – Employment Department, MTEySS, Buenos Aires.
MTEySS 2 Interview with Enrique Deibe, 2.9.05, Department of Employment, MTEySS, Buenos Aires.
MTEySS 3 Interview with Alicia Kossoy, Coordinator Area of Technical Evaluation and assessment, Plan Manos a la Obra – MDS, 18.8.05, Buenos Aires.
Parra M ‘Resistiendo al desempleo... Las experiencias colectivas de trabajo en Córdoba’ Labour Again, http://www.iisg.nl/labouragain/documents/parra.pdf, access May 2006
Picchetti V 2002 ‘Fábricas tomadas, Fábricas de Esperanzas. La Experincia de Zanón y de Brukman’ in Carpintero and Hernández 2002 eds: Produciendo realidad …Op. Cit. 11-23
PST n/d La Verdad Obrera no 128, Buenos Aires
Piven, F. and Cloward, R. (1977) Poor People’s movements. Why They Succeed, How They Fail Pantheon Books, New York.
Rebón Julián, Una empresa de trabajadores. Apuntes acerca de los determinantes de las empresas recuperadas http://www.iisg.nl/labouragain/documents/rebon.pdf
Sindicato de Ceramistas de Neuquén (2005a) Nuestra Lucha no 22, July 22. Sindicato de Ceramistas (2005b), Neuquén Zanón bajo control Obrero, Neuquén.
Steinert, H. and Pilgram, A. (eds.) (2003) Welfare Policy from Below, Ashgate, US.
Notes
1 … the action with collective public purposes, such as self-help and community-based alternatives towards poverty alleviation, job creation and socialtransformation, undertaken by traditional and non-traditional actors, ranging fromNGOs to unions and new social movements. (See http://www.lse.ac.uk/collections/NGPA/ ).
2 Between May and June 1964, when 3,013,000 workers participated in the takeover of 11,000 factories as part of the plan de lucha launched by the CGT,involving 75.4 percent of waged workers in 10 percent of industrial enterprises
3 Similar processes took place in Venezuela, Brazil and Colombia (See Ghibaudi 2006)
4 The criteria to establish the level of poverty and indigence by INDEC is based on thevalue of the family basket, estimated at 193.77 pesos per adult for the city of BuenosAires and its outskirts in April 2002.
5 IMPA has also created an art centre Fábrica Ciudad Cultural, inside the factory, where exhibitions, concerts, theatre, dancing, as well as drawing, ceramics, pottery, drama, puppets, music, cinema and photography classes are offered on daily basis.
6 See Report from La Verdad Obrera, PST no 128;
7 They are Work Co-operatives Federation (Federación de Cooperativas de Trabajo FECOOTRA), the National Movement of Recovered Enterprises (MovimientoNacional de Empresas Recuperadas. MNER), the Movement of Recovered Factories (Movimiento de Fábricas Recuperadas MFR) and the Argentine WorkersCentral (Central de Trabajadores Argentinos, CTA).
8 See http://www.mnerweb.com.ar/sobre.htm
9 Other legal forms include renting after a legal agreement with previous owners, joint business with previous owners (see Fajn 2003).
10 Workers’ Party for Socialism (Partido de los Trabajadores por el Socialismo PTS), the Socialist Workers’ Movement (Movimiento Socialista de Trabajadores (MST) and with some differences, the Workers’ Party (Partido Obrero, PO)
11 Zanón Ceramics, Brukman Garments, Tractors Zanello, sugar refinery LaEsperanza and coal mines Rio Turbio.
12 In order to enjoy the benefits of the programme, the F/Es need to be included intoa register of Unidades Productivas Autogestionadas por los Trabajadores (Productive Units Managed by Workers) (MTEySS, n/d, leaflet)
13 These workers might be awaiting (with no other income support) the legal resolution of the toma in a tent located outside the factory/enterprise
14 See http://www.desarrollosocial.gov.ar/Planes/DLES/normativa/189_04.pdf accessed 20.6.06
Published on 31 January 2008
Reprinted from the ESRC Research Catalogue.
Ana C. Dinerstein is a Lecturer in Political Sociology. Her research focuses on the relationship between social and labour movements and state institutions and policymaking in Latin America.
Ana C. Dinerstein, Αργεντινή, Brukman, IMPA, Ανακτημένες Επιχειρήσεις, Κοινωνικοί Αγώνες, Εργατική Αυτοδιαχείριση, 21ος αιώνας – Εργατικός Έλεγχος στη Σύγχρονη Εποχή, Λατινική ΑμερικήTopicΝαιΝαιCurrent DebateΌχι -
English27/12/15
Nationalisations, bailouts, economic stimulus... much has been written about these and other recent events by the corporate media in the Global North and this so-called new wave of “socialism.” Fortunately many have responded that these events are all about saving a failing neoliberal model as opposed to building any alternative.
Unfortunately there is one area where this critical response is not occurring. Comparisons are being made between the worker occupations, bossnappings and partial union ownership of corporations in the Global North with the worker co-op movements in South America, particularly the Worker Recovered Enterprise movement in Argentina (Movimiento de Empresas Recuperadas por sus Trabajadores – ERT). If one believes the hype, a sequel to the documentary The Take is about to be filmed in either North America or Europe.
It makes for a great story and these workers deserve our full support. But as with the cries of “socialism” from the right, it is an equally hollow comparison with a real movement for change.
A large part of this problem stems from a misunderstanding of the movements occurring in Latin America. It is impossible to learn from and adapt these exciting developments without examining their syndicalist and community based nature. This new wave of grassroots movements is a critical change from “centralised democracy” a previous generation imported from Leninism.
The collapse of the Soviet Union and the ascendancy of the Washington Consensus had a profound effect on the entire region. Cuba’s “Special Period,” privatisations, the ascendancy of American imperialism, the collapse of the Sandinistas and others forced many in Latin America into a realisation that new models were needed to counter this powerful wave of neoliberalism. Since a global approach was an impossibility this new model had to be created in the communities were the people lived.
This is evident by three very different approaches:
- Venezuela – political change leads to economic transformation. This is the closest to the original model but it is evolving as evidenced by the focus on worker cooperatives, new roles for unions and a growing emphasis on community based initiatives.
- Bolivia – economic transformation leads to political change. The Movement for Socialism (MAS) started as a union of indigenous coca growers and their co-operatives. This economic base provided the political springboard through its “good example.”
- Argentina – economic action leads to community transformation. As workers seized their factories some of them opened them up to the communities building centres of education and activism. Some of the most promising ERTs are more interested in building new communities with each other and the community that surrounds them – what are known as economies of solidarity – instead of gaining political power in reaction to the repeated betrayals from the elites and the co-option of previous movements.
Obviously these are brief summaries but important commonalities exist across Latin America: using democracy to build an economic alternative to neoliberalism and a refreshing realisation that not one model has all the answers. Although problems exist, there is a growing confidence that as long as the movements stay grounded in the community they will withstand the challenges. Only time will tell which models (or others) will succeed but they are proving remarkably resilient and supportive of each other.
Of these models, the Argentine ERT movement is the most frequently misunderstood since there is no definitive model of how these plants are run once the workers “occupy, resist and produce.” This is a democratic process and it is the workers who determine its path. They call this “autogestion” (self-management). Overall there is a horizontal structure with elected leadership, union reps and plant direction on a “one worker – one vote” basis. It is also with some ERTs like the FaSinPat ceramic factory (formerly known as Zanon) in the province of Neuquen, a union movement. When existing unions weren’t structured to meet their needs (how do you bargain without management?); Zanon built a new union to reflect the real desire of its workers (the workers decide their priorities through union supervised votes).
With the notable exception of FaSinPat whose recovery was led by its elected union leadership, most of Argentina’s ERTs emerged from the initiatives of workers who had no economic alternative but to re-start their workplace. This isn’t a movement from above but by the workers themselves.
This distrust also extended to many union leaders due to their strategies during the Carlos Menem (President of Argentina from 1989 to 1999) years and its aftermath. Under the auspices of some of Argentina’s bureaucratic union leaders: they struck, took concessions, when privatised they took partial ownership (often with union leadership and the bosses sharing power) and campaigned for better politicians. When all else failed they seized workplaces until they received better severance or labour relations.
All strategies failed: the strikes were broken, plants still closed, the union bosses proved just as greedy as the ordinary ones, the “better” politicians were only better speakers and the excitement of the occupations quickly dissipated once the severance cheques were spent or until the next management salvo.
The reason for these failures is clear: no consideration was given to any other model but a kinder form of neoliberalism with better bosses and governments. This proved fatal and many of the working class turned against them. Even worse, with so many factories closed and workers forced into precarious jobs, the traditional model of industrial unionism no longer even applied in many sectors of the economy.
The unions that worked with these activists built new bases of solidarity (e.g. Buenos Aires transit workers). Unfortunately many others openly sided with the elites and worked against this movement as their leaders perceived it as a threat to their own vertical structures.
EL NORTE
Given this historical context, it’s clear that the recent northern wave of plant occupations, bossnappings, worker ownership schemes and comparisons to the Argentine ERT movement are completely unfounded. It is the period before this movement that is applicable as these responses, though valiant, have an ultimate purpose of fixing a failing model.
The Washington Consensus has moved north and we are now entering its logical outcome of de-industrialisation. With 40% of Torontonians now employed in precarious work, traditional union and political responses are meaningless in a community that is breaking apart.
This is a global agenda and we must examine other successful models of resistance and empowerment to counter it. These need to be adapted to Canadian realities with an understanding of previously successful responses to these inherent failings of capitalism.
Of the three models mentioned, the Venezuelan approach has been the most tried and the biggest failure. Years of effort have been put into building a mass political movement, discussing new political parties or reforming existing ones. All this effort has not led to Hugo Chavez but to former Ontario Premier Bob Rae. The realities of our electoral system, the rightward drift of the Canadian working class, the corporate media and the entrenched power of the elites ensures this approach will continue to fail unless new bases of support are built.
The model that has led to political gains has been the Bolivian approach.
In Saskatchewan the CCF used the “good example” of the cooperatives to obtain political power which allowed their “good example” of public health care to be nationally copied.
In Winnipeg its impossible to talk about the city’s rich communist past without acknowledging the role the People’s Co-Op played in its success. Unlike other consumer co-ops, it was established with a distinctly political purpose (its first Collective Agreement began with a statement that management and workers were united in overthrowing the capitalist system). It was an economic anchor in the community that provided employment to its activists. This “good example” countered the relentless red scare campaigns it endured.
Both the co-op and Winnipeg’s elected communist politicians continued into the 1980s, something unheard of anywhere else in North America. When these traditions ended; pressure from the left ended.
These are not perfect examples but one can’t deny the beneficial effects they have had. This is a problem that must be addressed: as long as many in the left are debating or trying to build the perfect example; we will continue to fall behind. Neoliberalism will not wait for us to get our act together.
Finally we must discuss the Argentinean example. Aside from the causes of this movement and our experiences with de-industrialisation, there appears to be little else in common.
The employee / union ownership model being established in North America merely re-inforces corporatism with workers paying the bills and no discussion about controlling production for their purposes. This rejection of control and any horizontal (democratic) structure allows the bosses to continue their agenda.
An example of this can be seen at United Airlines where workers purchased their company. The only thing that changed was management was now able to blackmail the workers “to save their investment” by cutting costs through more concessions. The height of this folly occurred when the workers agreed to end their defined benefit pension with only one exception: the CEO was allowed to keep his.
Imagine if instead of turning on each other, the workers would have used their ownership to establish a horizontal structure saving millions by wiping out layers of unnecessary management?
There exists a misunderstanding of the worker co-op concept amongst many activists and even within some Canadian worker co-ops themselves. No matter how they self-identify, many workers’ co-ops in Canada do not embrace the concept of horizontalism much less building an alternative to capitalism. Being anti-corporate means nothing if managers are renamed “members” who still control non-voting employees and merely use the more efficient co-operative structure for increased profitability.
Clearly, it’s easy to see how the Argentine experience is not applicable. However when one looks at the roots of the progressive Canadian movement a different picture emerges.
In the late 19th century when no viable political alternatives existed and the union movement was predominantly craft based, excluding most of the working class, the U.S. based Knights of Labor arrived. Their democratic structure and community based approach (any community with 10 members could form a Local Assembly) resulted in over 300 assemblies and 20,000 members within a decade. As a result of their commitment to invest 50% of all dues into local economic initiatives, worker cooperatives were established either by buying out existing industries or establishing new ones to meet local needs. For the first time many workers felt empowered and although many of these endeavours failed, it was this empowerment that stayed with them. Inevitably it was some of their odious practises (including racism against Chinese workers) and their limited goals that proved their undoing. But for the first time a new approach was tried and this activism created a mood for change unleashing even better movements.
It is this spirit of community-based empowerment that is at the heart of the ERT movement.
Canada today shares growing parallels with the conditions that led to the arrival of the Knights. Today’s elites are enjoying levels of power not seen since the days of the Robber Barons and the Family Compact. There is growing resentment to the current union movement with many workers resentful of their better wages / benefits (as existed toward the craft unions). Many are excluded from joining a union due to a structure that was never designed to accommodate them. To give an example, how can a union organise workers who are paid per call for pizza orders from their home?
COMMUNITY BASED UNIONS
As the industrial model continues to break down new bases of support will be required. Without a legal means for unemployed activists to remain in the union they will drift away from the movement. Unions need to examine the concept of community based locals and membership. These Community Locals can provide several services: education programmes, workplace assistance (such as Employment Standards), Human Rights, etc. This will create key democratic centres within the community just as the Red Halls and Labour Temples did in the past.
For this to be successful, our unions need democratic renewal to end its centralised democratic tendencies. This can only be done by adopting a horizontal structure to reflect its membership instead of a vertical one that reflects the corporations it bargains with.
New union models will also be needed. This shouldn’t be viewed as a negative as our movement was never stronger than when workers could fight for their rights through three distinct models: industrial (TLC / CLC), communist (WUL) and syndicalist (IWW / OBU). Most of all, unions need to end their support of neoliberalism.
These examples typify everything wrong with the movement’s current direction:
The Ontario Teacher’s Pension Plan (OTPP) has ownership stakes in several corporations to improve its rate of return. One of those assets is the anti-union voice of the establishment – CTVglobemedia. Instead of transforming it into a voice for the people, its appointed management took a hard line at the bargaining table causing all future workers to not be eligible for the Globe’s defined benefit pension plan.[1]
At the same time the OTPP – which owns 100% of property developer Cadillac Fairview – tabled a “final offer” to its unionised workers that “proposed to eliminate employees, force workers to reapply for their jobs, restrict union representation and undermine bargaining rights.” When the workers rejected these ridiculous demands they were locked out, replaced by contract workers and then terminated.[2]
The Teacher unions have followed the current union model perfectly by bargaining a great pension for their members. In the end this model has caused one group of workers to lose their pension plan and another to lose their jobs to pay for it.
We can’t complain about the abuses of capitalism unless we recognise the role we are playing in its success. We need to take away this source of capital from the exploiters and invest it in rebuilding our communities. This can begin right now with the many corporations already owned by workers and their pension plans.
We need to revisit the concept of democratising our workplace. This is far more than merely unionising it; this is transforming it into a union of workers under their democratic control and direction. With new sources of investment from worker’s pension plans, workers can make this possible. A good place to start would be workplaces that were profitable but closed due to production moving to lower wage jurisdictions provoking a community backlash (e.g. the Hershey chocolate plant in Smiths Falls).
In Canada, we are quickly reaching the point that if we continue using strategies that haven’t changed in sixty years we will see an accelerating collapse of our communities and a worsening political reality. This is our challenge and the discussion we need to have.
Part of this discussion should ask questions we stopped asking far too long ago: Why is it always the workers who have to justify their jobs? Why do workers even need management? Any worker will tell you the operation always runs better when they’re not around. Imagine what kind of union movement could be built if management wasn’t in the way?
This discussion needs to encompass many movements and allow them to develop their own models under a united framework for change. This Confederation of Movements will allow a flourishing of democracy, community renewal and build a new solidarity economy.
Action also needs to be taken to make this happen. Here are just some ideas:
- Thousands of workers are receiving severance cheques that could be spent on building a new economy instead of establishing themselves as a “self-employed entrepreneur” (the fastest growing job title in Canada).
- Union “Job Support Centres,” established when plants close, can be transformed into “Job Recovery Centres” that assist workers in recuperating or establishing new plants.
- Community activists can join the same Credit Union, win elections and transform them.
- Unions can build new links with worker co-ops that are trying to make a difference such as Neechi Foods in Winnipeg and Planet Bean in Guelph.
Obviously there is much more that needs to be done. This article is merely in response to the comparisons of periodic moments of worker frustration and union activism with the far more meaningful worker movements occurring in South America. Yes these incidents of direct action are a good start but unfortunately they won’t lead anywhere unless we build an economic base for change.
There are movements happening in North America that are fighting for change. One example is the Take Back the Land movement in Miami where community activists are reclaiming foreclosed homes and turning them over to the homeless. They are saving communities and adding value to them by restoring these decaying homes. People are rising in support of these actions causing the police and politicians to not take action.[3] It is these types of movements that should be compared with the ERTs’ attempts to rebuild their communities.
As fate would have it, I just received a letter from the Federal NDP asking me to “join Obama’s inner circle” (they are now using Obama’s strategists) and help the NDP “build our breakthrough.” As cringe worthy as this letter is, many Canadians see the NDP as the voice of the political left. I couldn’t think of better reason why new ideas, movements and political parties are urgently needed in this country to change this perception.
Clearly we have a lot of work to do.
- cnews.canoe.ca/CNEWS/MediaNews/2009/07/06/10042411-cp.html
- www.newswire.ca/en/releases/archive/ July2009/17/c6918.html
- www.nytimes.com/2009/04/10/us/10squatter.html
Reprinted from Relay #27, July-September, 2009.
Sean Smith is a Community Based Organiser in Toronto.
Αργεντινή, Καναδάς, Συνεταιριστικό Κίνημα, Ανακτημένες Επιχειρήσεις, Sean Smith, Συνδικαλισμός, Εργατικός Έλεγχος, 21ος αιώνας – Εργατικός Έλεγχος στη Σύγχρονη Εποχή, Βολιβία, Βενεζουέλα, Λατινική Αμερική, Βόρεια ΑμερικήTopicΝαιΝαιNoΌχι
