According to Engels, Marx in 1847 adopted the term “communist” over “socialist” because socialism had by that time acquired a flavor of bourgeois respectability.

But Marx and Engels themselves were bourgeois intellectuals.

1. The intellectual was uprooted by experience of 1848 which cast off his own class.

2. The same uprooted intellectual naturally became internationalist in feeling.

This meant more than that the problems and vicissitudes of any particular country—even of individual national proletariats—did not primarily concern him and always remained on the periphery of his interests.

It meant that it was so much easier for him to create the hypernational socialist religion and to conceive of an international proletariat the component parts of which were, in principle at least, much more closely wedded to each other than each of them was to its own co-nationals of a different class.

Anyone could in cold logic have framed this obviously unrealistic conception and all that it implies for the interpretation of past history and for the views of Marxist parties on foreign policy. But then it would have had to contend with all the affective influences exerted by the national environments and could never have been passionately embraced by a man tied to a country by innumerable bonds. No such bonds existed for Marx. Having no country himself he readily convinced himself that the proletariat had none.

We shall presently see why—and how far—this teaching survived and what, under varying circumstances, it was made to mean. Marx himself accepted its non-interventionist and pacifist implications.

He certainly

First of all, the uprooted intellectual, with the formative experience of 1848 forever impressed upon his whole soul, cast off his own class and was cast off by it. Similarly uprooted intellectuals and, at one remove, the proletarian masses were henceforth all that was accessible to him and all he had to put his trust in. This explains the doctrine which, as we have seen in the preceding chapter, does stand in need of explanation, viz., that workers would “emancipate themselves.”

2. The same uprooted intellectual naturally became internationalist in feeling. This meant more than that the problems and vicissitudes of any particular country—even of individual national proletariats—did not primarily concern him and always remained on the periphery of his interests. It meant that it was so much easier for him to create the hypernational socialist religion and to conceive of an international proletariat the component parts of which were, in principle at least, much more closely wedded to each other than each of them was to its own co-nationals of a different class. Anyone could in cold logic have framed this obviously unrealistic conception and all that it implies for the interpretation of past history and for the views of Marxist parties on foreign policy. But then it would have had to contend with all the affective influences exerted by the national environments and could never have been passionately embraced by a man tied to a country by innumerable bonds. No such bonds existed for Marx. Having no country himself he readily convinced himself that the proletariat had none.

We shall presently see why—and how far—this teaching survived and what, under varying circumstances, it was made to mean. Marx accepted its non-interventionist and pacifist implications. He certainly

b19c1bcc4b186bb880f5d917dca1116cb886ee4e thought not only that “capitalist wars” were of no concern to the proletariat but also that they were the means of subjugating it still more completely. The concession he may be held to have made, i.e., that participation in the defense of one’s own country against attack is not incompatible with the duties of the faithful, obviously was no more than a very necessary tactical device.

3. Whatever his doctrine may have been,1 the uprooted bourgeois had democracy in his blood. That is to say, belief in that part of the bourgeois scheme of values which centers in democracy was for him not alone a matter of the rational perception of the conditions peculiar to the social pattern of his or any other time. Nor was it merely a matter of tactics.

Socialist activities (and his personal work) could not have been carried on, not with any comfort at all events, in any environment professing other than democratic principles as then understood. Save in very exceptional cases, every opposition must stand for freedom—which for him meant democracy—and throw itself on the mercy of “the people.” Of course this element was and in some «««< HEAD countries is even now very important.

This is precisely, as I have pointed out, why democratic professions by socialist parties do not mean much until their political power becomes great enough to give them a choice of an alternative, and why they do not, in particular, avail to establish any fundamental relation between the logic of socialism and the logic of democracy. But it nevertheless seems safe to say that for Marx democracy was above discussion and any other political pattern below it. This much must be granted to the revolutionary of the 1848 type. 2 Of course it was out of the question for him to accept so important an article of the bourgeois faith as it stood. That would have uncovered a most inconveniently large expanse of common ground. But we have seen in the preceding part that he knew how to meet this difficulty by boldly claiming that only socialist democracy was true democracy and that bourgeois democracy was no democracy at all.

2. Such then was Marx’s political apriori. 3

No need to emphasize that it was totally different from the aprioris of the average English socialist not only of his own but of any time—so different as to render mutual sympathy and even full mutual understanding almost impossible, quite irrespective of Hegelianism and other doctrinal barriers. The same difference will stand out still better if we compare Marx to another German intellectual of very similar background, Ferdinand Lassalle (1825–1864).

The scion of the same race, the product of the same stratum, molded by a closely similar cultural tradition, similarly conditioned by the experiences of 1848 and by the ideology of bourgeois democracy, Lassalle yet differs from Marx in a manner that cannot be explained wholly by the personal equation. Much more vital than this was the fact that Marx was an exile and Lassalle was not. Lassalle never cut himself off from his country or from classes other than the proletariat. He never was an internationalist like Marx. By proletariat he meant primarily the German proletariat. He had no objection to cooperation with the state that was. He did not object to personal contact with Bismarck or with the king of Bavaria. Such things are important, more important perhaps than the most profound doctrinal differences, important enough to produce different kinds of socialism and irreconcilable antagonisms. Let us now take our stand on Marx’s apriori and survey the political data that confronted him.

countries is even now very important. This is precisely, as I have pointed out, why democratic professions by socialist parties do not mean much until their political power becomes great enough to give them a choice of an alternative, and why they do not, in particular, avail to establish any fundamental relation between the logic of socialism and the logic of democracy. But it nevertheless seems safe to say that for Marx democracy was above discussion and any other political pattern below it. This much must be granted to the revolutionary of the 1848 type. 2 Of course it was out of the question for him to accept so important an article of the bourgeois faith as it stood. That would have uncovered a most inconveniently large expanse of common ground. But we have seen in the preceding part that he knew how to meet this difficulty by boldly claiming that only socialist democracy was true democracy and that bourgeois democracy was no democracy at all.

2. Such then was Marx’s political apriori. 3

No need to emphasize that it was totally different from the aprioris of the average English socialist not only of his own but of any time—so different as to render mutual sympathy and even full mutual understanding almost impossible, quite irrespective of Hegelianism and other doctrinal barriers. The same difference will stand out

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still better if we compare Marx to another German intellectual of very similar background, Ferdinand Lassalle (1825–1864). The scion of the same race, the product of the same stratum, molded by a closely similar cultural tradition, similarly conditioned by the experiences of 1848 and by the ideology of bourgeois democracy, Lassalle yet differs from Marx in a manner that cannot be explained wholly by the personal equation. Much more vital than this was the fact that Marx was an exile and Lassalle was not. Lassalle never cut himself off from his country or from classes other than the proletariat. He never was an internationalist like Marx. By proletariat he meant primarily the German proletariat. He had no objection to cooperation with the state that was. He did not object to personal contact with Bismarck or with the king of Bavaria. Such things are important, more important perhaps than the most profound doctrinal differences, important enough to produce different kinds of socialism and irreconcilable antagonisms. Let us now take our stand on Marx’s apriori and survey the political data that confronted him.

b19c1bcc4b186bb880f5d917dca1116cb886ee4e At first, the huge industrial masses of which Marx wrote and thought existed nowhere except in England. Even there, the chartist movement having petered out by the time he had found his bearings, the working class was becoming increasingly realistic and conservative. Disappointed by the failure of earlier radical activities, the men were turning away from flashy programs and from songs about their right to the total product. They soberly embarked upon an attempt to increase their share in it.

The leaders were cautiously trying to establish, to buttress and to increase the legal status and the economic power of the trade unions within the political framework of bourgeois society. On principle as well as for obvious tactical considerations, they were bound to look upon revolutionary ideas or activities as a nuisance and as a stupid or frivolous sabotage of labor’s serious business. Also, they concerned themselves with the upper stratum of the working class; for the lower, they harbored feelings that were akin to contempt. «««< HEAD

In any case however, Marx and Engels, circumstanced as they were and being the types they were, could never have thought of going forth in order to organize the industrial proletariat, or any particular group of it, according to ideas of their own. All they could hope for was contact with leaders and with the union bureaucracy. Beholding, on the one hand, that attitude of the “respectable” workman and, on the other hand, the attitude of the (then) unorganizable mob of the big cities with which they hardly wished to act, 4 they faced a disagreeable dilemma.

They could not fail to recognize the importance of the trade-union movement that was about to accomplish, step by step, the gigantic task of organizing the masses into something like an articulate class, that is to say, to solve the problem which they themselves felt to be the most important of all. But, being completely out of it and realizing the danger that this class might acquire bourgeois standing and adopt a bourgeois attitude, they were bound to dislike and to distrust the trade unions as much as they were disliked and distrusted—as far as they were noticed at all—by them. They were thus driven back upon the position that has become characteristic of classical socialism and that, though much reduced in importance, to this day expresses the fundamental antagonism between the socialist intellectuals and labor (which may in important cases be roughly equated to the antagonism between socialist parties and trade unions).

For them, the trade-union movement was something to be converted to the doctrine of class war; as a means of such conversion, occasional cooperation with it was proper for the faithful whenever labor troubles radicalized the masses and sufficiently worried or excited trade-union officials to induce them to listen to the gospel. But so long as conversion was not complete and in particular so long as trade-union opinion remained on principle averse to revolutionary or simply to political action, the movement was not in a state of grace but on the contrary in error, misconceiving its own true ends, deluding itself with trivialities that were worse than futile; hence, except for the purpose of boring from within, the faithful had to keep aloof.

This situation changed even during Marx’s and still more during Engels’ lifetime. The growth of the industrial proletariat that eventually made it a power also on the Continent and the unemployment incident to the depressions of that period increased their influence with labor leaders though they never acquired any direct influence on the masses. To the end however it was mainly the intellectuals that supplied them the material to work with. But though their success in that quarter was considerable, the intellectuals gave them still more trouble than did the indifference, occasionally amounting to hostility, of the labor men.

There was a fringe of socialist intellectuals that had no objection to identifying themselves either with the trade unions or with social reform of the bourgeois-radical or even the conservative type. And these of course dispensed a very different socialism which, holding out the promise of immediate benefit, was a dangerous competitor. There were moreover intellectuals, foremost among them Lassalle, who had conquered positions among the masses that were still more directly competitive. And finally there were intellectuals who went far enough as regards revolutionary ardor, but whom Marx and Engels quite rightly looked upon as the worst enemies of serious socialism—the “putschists” like Blanqui, the dreamers, the anarchists and so on. Doctrinal as well as tactical considerations rendered it imperative to meet all of these groups with an unflinching No.

As regards the first, socialist parties could not be advised to watch bourgeois politics in silence. Their obvious task was to criticize capitalist society, to expose the masquerade of class interests, to point out how much better everything would be in the socialist paradise and to beat up for recruits: to criticize and to organize.

However, a wholly negative attitude, though quite satisfactory as a principle, would have been impossible for any party of more than negligible political importance to keep up. It would inevitably have collided with most of the real desiderata of organized labor and, if persisted in for any length of time, would have reduced the followers to a small group of political ascetics. Considering the influence that Marx’s teaching exerted, right up to 1914, on the great German party and on many smaller groups it is interesting to see how he dealt with this difficulty.

So far as he felt it possible to do so, he took the only position that was logically unimpeachable. Socialists must refuse to participate in the sham improvements by which the bourgeoisie tried to deceive the proletariat. Such participation—later dubbed Reformism—spelled lapse from the Faith, betrayal of the true aims, an insidious attempt to patch up what should be destroyed. Disciples like Bebel who made the pilgrimage to the shrine after having thus strayed from the right path were soundly rated.

Marx and Engels themselves had at the time of their communist party of 1847 contemplated cooperation with left-wing bourgeois groups.

Also, the Communist Manifesto recognized the necessity of occasional compromises and alliances, just as it allowed that tactics would have to differ according to the circumstances of time and place. So much was implied in the maxim enjoined upon the faithful to make use of all the antagonisms between the bourgeoisies of different countries and between bourgeois groups within every country—for this can hardly be done without a measure of cooperation with some of them. But all that only amounted to qualifying a principle in order to uphold it the more effectively. In each case, the exception had to be severely scrutinized, the presumption being always against it. Moreover, it was cooperation in certain definite emergencies, preferably revolutions, that was envisaged rather than more durable alliance involving understandings in the ordinary run of political life which might endanger the purity of the creed.

How Marxists should behave when confronted by a particular policy of the bourgeois enemy that clearly benefits the proletariat, we may infer from the example set by the master himself in a very important instance. Free trade was one of the main planks in the platform of English liberalism.

Marx was far too good an economist not to see what boon, in the circumstances of that time, it conferred upon the working class. The boon might be belittled, the motives of bourgeois free traders might be reviled. But that did not solve the problem, for surely socialists would have to support free trade, particularly in foodstuffs. Well, so they should but not of course because cheap bread was a boon—oh, no!—but because free trade would quicken the pace of social evolution, hence the advent of the social revolution. The tactical trick is admirable.

The argument is moreover quite true and admits of application to a great many cases. The oracle did not say however what socialists should do about policies which, while also benefiting the proletariat, do not promote capitalist evolution—such as most measures of social betterment, social insurance and the like—or which, while promoting capitalist evolution, do not directly benefit the proletariat. But if the bourgeois camp should split upon such questions the road was clear by virtue of the precept to make use of capitalist dissensions. From this angle Marx would also have dealt with reforms sponsored, in opposition to the bourgeoisie by extra-bourgeois elements such as the landed aristocracy and gentry although, in his schema of things, there was no separate place for this phenomenon.

The second question was no less thorny. No party can live without a program that holds out the promise of immediate benefits. But in strict logic Marxism had no such program to offer. Anything positive done or to be done in the vitiated atmosphere of capitalism was ipso facto tainted. Marx and Engels were in fact worrying about this and always discouraged programs that involved constructive policy within the capitalist order and inevitably savored of bourgeois radicalism. However, when they themselves faced the problem in 1847, they resolutely cut the Gordian knot.

The Communist Manifesto quite illogically lists a number of immediate objects of socialist policy, simply laying the socialist barge alongside the liberal liner. Free education, universal suffrage, suppression of child labor, a progressive income tax, nationalization of land, banking and transportation, expansion of state enterprise, reclamation of waste lands, compulsory industrial service for all, the spreading out of industrial centers over the country—all this clearly measures the extent to which (at that time) Marx and Engels allowed themselves to be opportunist though they were inclined to deny the privilege to other socialists. For the striking thing about this program is the absence of any plank that we should recognize as typically or exclusively socialist if we met it in another entourage; any single one of them could figure in a non-socialist program—even the nationalization of land has been advocated, on special grounds, by otherwise bourgeois writers—and most of them are simply taken from the radical stockpot. This was of course the only sensible thing to do. But all the same it was a mere makeshift, obviously intended to serve no other purpose than that of covering an embarrassing practical weakness. Had Marx been interested in those items for their own sake, he would have had no alternative but to coalesce with the radical wing of bourgeois liberalism. As it was, they mattered little to him and he felt no obligation to make any sacrifice for their sake; had the bourgeois radicals carried them all, this would presumably have come to Marx as a very disagreeable surprise.

4. The same principles, the same tactics and similar political data produced the Inaugural Address to the International Workmen’s Association (the “First International”) in 1864.

The foundation of the latter meant indeed a great stride beyond the German Arbeiterbildungsverein of 1847 or the little international group of the same year. It was of course no organization of socialist parties—though for instance the two German ones joined, the Lassallean Allgemeiner Deutscher Arbeiterverein speedily resigned—and still less an international organization of the proletariat. But labor groups from many lands and of many types were actually represented and even English trade unions showed interest enough to bear for a time, in a rather noncommittal way and with an eye to possible immediate advantages, with a somewhat uncongenial alliance. George Odger figured among the founders. 5

The large claims made by the Association and some of its historians concerning its role in the revolutionary movements and the major labor troubles of the time will bear discounting. But if it effected little and never led or controlled, it at least offered unifying phraseology. And it established contacts that in the end might have raised it, with the kind assistance of its bourgeois enemies who were foolish enough to advertise for it, to a position of real importance. In the beginning all went fairly well and the first four “congresses” were distinctly successful, certain unsocialist incidents, such as the vote upholding the principle of inheritance, being tactfully overlooked by the orthodox members. Bakunin’s invasion (1869) and expulsion (1872) however dealt a blow from which the Association proved unable to recover though it lingered on till 1874.

Marx was from the first aware of the possibilities and of the dangers inherent in that caravanserai which held intellectuals of doubtful standing alongside of labor men obviously determined to use the Association or to disown it according to circumstances. They were the possibilities for which, and the dangers against which, he had always fought. The first task was to keep the organization together, the second to impart to it the Marxian slant, both to be solved in the face of the facts, that his personal followers were always a minority and that his influence on the other members was much smaller than might be inferred from his being drafted—or rather allowed—to make the program address. In consequence, this address contained concessions to un Marxian views similar to those which Marx himself was shocked to find in the Gotha program of the German Social Democratic party (1875). Similarly, judicious maneuvering and compromise were much in evidence ever after—the sort of thing that once made Marx exclaim in semi-humorous despair: “Je ne suis pas Marxiste.” But the meaning of compromise depends upon the man by whom, and the spirit in which, it is made. He who cares only for the trend may put up with many deviations. Evidently Marx trusted himelf to keep his trend steadily in view and to find his way back to it after each deviation. But we shall understand that he felt misgivings when he saw others playing the same game. There was thus more than mere egotism both in his tactical shuffling and in his venomous denunciations of other people’s shuffling.

Of course both the tactics and the principle of what has ever since remained the classical policy of orthodox socialism are open to criticism. The tactical example set by Marx left followers free to justify practically any course of action or inaction by some move or dictum of the master. The principle has been denounced for pointing a way that led nowhere. All the more important is it to realize its rationale. Marx believed in the proletarian revolution. He also believed—though his own doctrine should have made him doubt this—that the right moment for it was not far off, just as most early Christians believed that the day of judgment was at hand. Therefore, his political method was indeed founded upon an error of diagnosis. Those intellectuals who extol his political acumen 6 fail entirely to see the amount of wishful thinking that entered into his practical judgment. But the facts within his horizon and his inferences from them being taken for granted, that method does follow as do his views on the subject of immediate results and on the table fellowship with bourgeois reformers. To found a homogeneous party based upon the organized proletariat of all countries that would march toward the goal without losing its revolutionary faith and getting its powder wet on the road was from that standpoint indeed the task of paramount importance compared with which everything else was nugatory.